Page 8 of Rules in Love
I nodded and tried to take it all in, but the bloody beer, whiskey, and talk of feelings and shit made it hard. I was embarrassingly emotional and needed a minute alone. After borrowing the words of my heart’s desire, “Mate, do you know where the loos are?” I bolted.
The fragrant men’s room was not the best place to think, but it was all I had. Hunched over the sink, I stared into the mirror.
You can do this, Finn. You can talk about her. Or not. Maybe just talk about cricket. Or golf. Or maybe just drink some more. Yeah. That sounds like a solid plan.
I washed my face and was in the midst of a final pump-up when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and squinted at the screen. It was my best friend,Nate—or Nathaniel, if you were his mum, or if you were really pissed with him. He was the twin brother of Shelby, Iris’s late mum, and we’d been friends for life. Our birthdays were three days apart, we grew up on neighboring farms, and were together in every class throughout school. I knew everything about him, and hethoughthe knew everything about me.
Nate: Finny. Miss your ugly mug, bro. How’s it going? Settling in? You made a move on the redhead yet? You can tell me you’re not interested till you’re blue in the face, but I don’t buy it.
Me: NO NATE. can’t talk new, can’t tpey . Drunk.
Nate: That’s what I like to see. Have fun, Finny. Go get some
What a tool.
Me: Up yours, dckhed. Miss too you.
Now feeling homesick as well as shitfaced, I shoved my phone back in my pocket on the third attempt and left the stench behind. The second Teddy saw me weaving my way through the crowd, he dropped his phone into his lap and smiled. He was up to something cheeky, that was clear, but we dove into a lengthy debate over Australian vs American beers, and I quickly forgot all about it.
“So, tell me, Finn Austen, super hunk from Down Under. What do you think about Budweiser?”
I took a long, slow sip and sighed. “To be honest, not much. Too pale and flat for me. I like a thicker, fuller body.” I signaled the waiter to bring us another round. “I mean, I’ll drink it, but give me a full-strength Aussie draught or bitter any day.”
“A Foster’s, right?”
The glass slipped from my hand. A handful of Teddy’s shirt replaced it, and I may have shaken him till his phone fell right from his pocket. “No Australian drinks Foster’s, Theodore. Not one. It’s that bad, that much of a national disgrace, that I don’t think they even sell it at home anymore.”
“Okay, no Foster’s. I get it. Now, unless you’re taking me home to bed, you better let go of me. I’m enjoying this way too much.”
“Shit, sorry.” I relaxed my grip and smoothed the wrinkles. “It’s a real sore point for me.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Let’s stick to wine next time.”
Scarlett
By eight, a bottle of wine,Mansfield Park, and my pillow were calling my name. In my favorite, softest t-shirt stolen from Teddy, I snuggled in my four-poster bed, poured a glass, and melted into the sheets. Despite my best intentions, my mind trawled the remnants of my day. Finn and his aunt featured heavily.
I’d been a walking contradiction on my way to pick up Ben. Proud of my work and how well I did in the presentation, frustrated because I knew Finn would most likely get the job despite that, and disturbed that, with even the flagrant favoritism I was likely to witness, my body had utterly betrayed me.
I was horny.
The arousal achieved from a simple touch of Finn’s hand was unprecedented. I swore I could still feel him. Smell him too. How, on a humid New York day, he smelled like he’d just stepped from a tropical ocean while sipping from a fresh coconut was beyond me. It was hot. He was hot. God dammit, why did he have to be so hot?
Maybe I shouldn’t have harbored such guilt over the attraction. There was a distinct possibility that I was jumping the gun with my Finn-is-a-complete-suck-up theory. Despite everything pointing in that direction and no evidence to back it up, my gut told me he wasn’t the type to flex family influence. And Jocelyn certainly didn’t seem like the kind of woman to play games. She appeared genuinely impressed by my concept too.
Still, my insecurities lingered and ran deep. I’d been underestimated and undervalued my whole life, professionally and personally. Sadly, as a foster kid, I’d almost come to expect it.
At the age of four, a fire destroyed our home and stole the lives of my parents. According to witnesses, Dad was woken by the smoke, and after rousing mum, who insisted he save me while she gathered our photo albums, he did just that. But with no sight of mum,I was left in the arms of our neighbor, and Dad ran back into the flames. Neither made it out.
Orphaned, my childhood became a revolving door of foster and group homes. Some good. Some cruel, violent, horrible. I yearned for love, family, and understanding. A kind and supporting hand to guide me into the future. What I got were homes where all that was expected or accepted of me was being quiet, compliant, and inconspicuous. I learned to make myself small. To please.
My tale is not typical of every foster kid. Many of us are raised by loving, caring families. But it was my story, and it formed a belief I carried to this day. No matter how I tried, it was never enough.Iwas never enough. Perhaps broken or unlovable. The judgment I later experienced as a teen mother only compounded my belief.
As the shadows of the past darkened my room, I willed myself back into the light.Stop thinking about things you cannot change. Drink, Scarlett.
Letting the words of Jane heal me again. I sipped and skipped to Edmund and Fanny’s first kiss. Like me, Fanny believed herself broken, but Edmund saw the beauty of her sharp angles and edges and loved her even more for them. I swooned as he chased her, cupped her face in his hands, then kissed her deeply. Thoughts much more pleasant than those preceding filled my heart, and I began to feel all warm, and giddy, and maybe a little bit hopeful.
Of course, at that exact moment, my phone rang, the vibrations tingling against my bare thigh beneath the quilt (sadly, the biggest thrill I’d received in bed in quite some time). I knew it would be Teddy. Ben’s bedtime led straight into our evening bitchfest, and I bloody loved it.
