Page 5 of Unwritten Rules
Oh.Oh.
My cheeks flame at the realisation and my heart thunders in my chest. “I, um… no, I haven’t.”
A grin spreads across his stunning features. “Well, I happen to think tonight should be the night you let loose. It could be fun.”
Maybe he’s right. It’s my last night in Barrenridge before I move to Sydney. What’s the harm in having a little fun with a stranger? I mean, I could be murdered, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take.
I should be asking myself why I’m putting myself in danger. On any other day, I would’ve declined such a request in a heartbeat because the cons of doing this far outweigh the pros. But at this moment, staring back at Sinnett, I can’t find one con—only pros.
Sinnett reaches over to rest his hand on my bare thigh, the touch so electric I fear I might go into cardiac arrest. His slender fingers graze across my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
A shiver races down my spine as warmth explodes in my core.
Fuck it.
I square my shoulders and offer him the biggest smile I can muster. “One night of crazy fun?”
Sinnett smirks and grips my thigh. “It’ll be a night you won’t forget.”
Chapter Two
TATUM
“Where are you taking me?”
I glance at Sinnett in the driver's seat, one hand resting on his thigh while the other steers the sleek, dark grey Audi R8. To say I was shocked to see him driving such an expensive car was an understatement, but I didn’t question him about it. There aren’t many streetlights in the main drag of town, so most of his face is shrouded in darkness. Even with the lack of lighting, I can make out the curve of his jaw and sharp cheekbones.
“Are you going to murder me?”
“What?” Sinnett snaps his head to me, ocean eyes roaming my face before glancing back at the deserted road. “No, I’m not going to murder you. If you thought I would, you wouldn’t have gotten in the car with me.”
I swallow and nod. “Yeah, no, you’re right.”
“Livin’ On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi filters through the speakers, his deep voice consuming the small space in the car. I take the distraction as my chance to zip my lips and throw away the key becausewhy can’t I stop talking? Since we’ve been in the car—which is all of two minutes—I’ve asked Sinnett what his favourite colour is, go-to pub food order and if he would prefer to get eatenby a shark or stomped on by an elephant. And let’s just say he wasn’t too keen on answering the ‘would you rather’ question.
I need to shut the hell up.
Sinnett exhales and runs his hand through his messy hair. “I know a quiet place we can go.”
Now I’m nearly breaking my neck to look at him. “What? Why? We can just go back to my place.”
“I don’t do sleepovers,” he mutters and turns the car onto the road that leads to the park on the edge of town. “And I certainly can’t take you to where I’m staying.”
The further we drive from the town centre, the harder my heart beats in my chest. I feel every thump at the base of my throat, getting louder and louder as the lights of Barrenridge disappear behind us.
Ridge Park is the local hangout spot for teenagers. It’s far enough away from the watchful eye of the townspeople that it allows the kids to let loose and have fun without fear of getting in trouble. Noah, Nathan and I would come out here every day after school to hang out and watch some of the guys from our year group ride their scooters and skateboards on the outdoor skate park. The popular girls would sit in the grass nearby, making flower crowns and giggling while watching the guys.
It was almost like a daily routine by the time we graduated from high school. And now that same routine has been passed on to the new generation of kids going through school.
To take my mind off what I have agreed to do with this stranger, I do the one thing I know will distract me: talk and ask questions. Because obviously I haven’t done enough of that since being in the car with Sinnett. At this point, I can’t help myself. He makes me nervous, but not in a bad way. More like awhy is this man here with me when he could have any woman he wantskind of way.
Twirling a lock of strawberry-blonde hair around my forefinger, I ask, “How old are you?”
Sinnett glances over at me, brows pinched into a frown. “Twenty-four.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Me too! Well, almost… Woah, we’re twins.”
“Well, I already have one of those,” Sinnett answers gruffly.
