Page 8 of Breaking the Rules
He moves to the table and hits the pause button.
The room falls silent.
Way too silent.
I can hear the hum of the refrigerator.
The cars outside.
Laughter.
Footsteps.
Waves.
Wind.
The noise isn't so bad.
But the thoughts that are suddenly loud enough?
I can't stomach that.
Brendon takes another step toward me. "What did you do, Em?"
"I just told you."
"There's no way you're being asked to leave because you have bad taste in music."
"Your girlfriend has the same taste."
He motionskinda.
I fight my smile.
He's teasing me.
Yeah, he's digging for holes in my story like an expert police interrogator.
But he's doing it because he cares.
He wants this to be easy.
If I make it easy, he'll believe me.
"I threw a few too many parties. Pissed off too many neighbors. Technically, we can stay. But I don't want to fight management." I press my lips into a smile. But that's not right. A frown is closer.
His dark eyes bore into mine.
They're so much like Mom's eyes.
Like mine.
"You threw two parties last year," he says.
"That you know about." I shrug as if this isn't a big deal.
His stare intensifies.
