Page 57 of Unwritten Rules
MIA: Why?
SIN: I’m just looking for song recommendations.
MIA: “With or Without You” has been on repeat lately. I love it.
I hum as I consider the lyrics of the song. We both love rock music, and U2 is one of our favourite bands, so I’m not surprised she has them on repeat.
SIN: I should’ve expected that from you, twinkle fingers. But thank you.
Heavy footsteps from behind have me shooting a quick message to Mia telling her to have a good day, before slipping the device into the pocket of my black trackies. Glancing over myshoulder, I spot a shirtless Khai in only black briefs stumbling through the open-plan living room, rubbing at his head.
“Fuck me,” he groans, stepping out onto the balcony. His shoves a hand through the strands of hair sticking up in different directions. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a goddamn train.”
I bite back a smile as I lean against the railing, folding my arms over my chest. “You certainly look like you have.”
“Shut up,” he grumbles, reaching for my coffee mug. Without asking, he sculls the last two mouthfuls and scowls. “God, this is fucking lukewarm.”
“Yeah, because I’ve been drinking it for twenty minutes.”
Khai squints and meets my gaze, fighting to keep from spinning out from the raging hangover I’m sure he’s battling, and the piercing sun as it rises slowly. “What’re you doing up so early?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
He raises a brow at me as he drops into the black egg chair to the right, surrounded by random pot plants he bought six months ago when he wanted to be a ‘plant dad’. “I may have been drunk when I left the club last night, but I wasn’t blind. You didn’t come home with me in the Uber.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Where did you go?”
My jaw clenches. “I walked Tatum home.”
“Youwhat?” He rubs at his temples, eyes squeezed shut. “Is that the reason you couldn’t sleep?”
“Maybe.”
Khai gives me a deadpan look as he folds his arm behind his head. “Don’t pull my cock, Sin. What happened?”
I swallow hard and look to the right, focusing on the view and not my best friend’s interrogation about my whereabouts last night. “Nothing.”
“Sin,” he groans. “Come on. Tell me what happened. If you do, I’ll shut up about it.”
“You should shut up anyway.”
“Sin!”
“Fuck,” I groan, shoving a hand through my hair and meeting his curious eyes. “I may have sort of… kissed her.”
Khai jumps to his feet, eyes wide and hangover clearly forgotten already. “What!”
I grimace and drop my head in my hands. “I couldn’t sleep because, well… I don’t know if I fucked up or not by stepping over the invisible boundary we had put in place.”
“You kissed Tate?” Khai repeats, more to himself than me. “Jesus. If Coach Phil finds out?—”
“I’m a dead man,” I rasp, throat tight. “I’ve been up all night thinking of different ways he might try to kill me for touching his daughter.”
“Shit, man.” Khai exhales a sharp breath and pushes out of the egg chair. He steps up to the railing beside me, leaning his elbow on the metal. I keep my eyes on the interior of the apartment. “I mean, I’m proud of you for finally deciding on what you want, but now you’re in a pickle.”
“The make or break of a burger,” I mumble, something I would say to my sister growing up. “Yeah, I know.”
