Page 21 of Breaking the Rules
I shrug and follow her lead. “Yup.”
Pocketing my cell phone, I lock the door behind us and Essie and I fall into step together along the sidewalk.
This part of town isn’t super walkable, but there’s an organic grocery store on the corner and then a strip mall with a dentist’s office. In the same building, a new café opened this summer. There’s outdoor seating, but it’s too cold for that this time of year. In fact, Essie huddles close to me as we walk. I don’t hate it.
“Have you ever watched one of my games?”
She told me when we first met that she wasn’t a hockey fan. At the time, I figured maybe that was for the best. I couldn’t imagine living with some fangirl who was going to bug me for my teammate’s autographs or free tickets all the time. But now, I’m curious. Is she interested in what I do at all? Does she care? Is she impressed? Doesn’t seem like it.
She shakes her head, looking down at our shoes as we walk. “No, sorry. Can’t say I have.”
“How’s school?” I ask, needing a topic change.
Essie meets my gaze. I can’t help but remember back to last night when she was perched above me like a goddess, practically fucking the life out of me. I remember how flushed her skin was, those hot little whimpering sounds she made when she tipped over the edge—not once, but twice. I need to know what makes her tick—what makes her push me away during the daylight hours, but seek out comfort and affection in my bed at night.
“It’s …” She releases a big, heavy sigh.
“That good, huh?” I push open the door for the café and the chalkboard sign directs us to seat ourselves.
Essie leads the way, choosing a booth by the windows. I slide in across from her.
She orders a large coffee and a pumpkin muffin. I order a bagel and a small coffee.
“I’m taking eighteen credit hours this semester so I can be done next spring, and it’s …a lot.” She emphasizes the word with a nervous laugh.
“If anyone can handle it, it’s you. I’ve seen how hard you work.”
She gives me an appreciative smile. I know she’s nervous about graduating next year and finding a job. She mentioned something about paying off her student loans once.
Admittedly, I don’t know a ton about Essex Kennedy. She’s a somewhat guarded girl.
I know she grew up two hours east of here. I know she needs coffee before she can function in the morning. I know she’s a night owl, often listening to soft music in her room late into the evening. I know that she writes in a journal, and takes her phone calls on the back porch for privacy. I know that one time, after one of those phone calls, she was crying when she came inside and I gathered her up in my arms and held her while she sobbed, comforting her by rubbing her back and letting her soak my t-shirt with tears. We never spoke about that day again. I know she loves pizza—all varieties, and that she would love to adopt a cat someday. And I know that I want her to be mine.
She’s not too demanding. She’s not too talkative, but she’s not too quiet either.
Basically, Essie is the Goldilocks of hookups.
Technically I have it made. I should just leave well enough alone. But of course I can’t do that.
She tells me more about her econ class while I finish off my bagel. I could listen to her talk about this for hours. Unfortunately, I have a plane to catch. I check the time on my phone discreetly. Well, not that discreetly, because Essie pauses and gives me a pointed look. “Do you need to go?”
I grin and nod at her sheepishly. “The plane leaves in two hours. I need to go home and put on a suit. Grab my bags.” Drive to the airfield.
“I never understood the whole suit thing. Weird rule if you ask me.”
I nod in agreement and motion to our server to bring us our check.
Fishing my wallet from my pocket, I place my black card down on top of the check.
“I can pay for myself,” she says, grabbing her wallet.
This is the first and only time Essie’s been out to eat with me. It’s not a date, but we did sleep together last night. I know I should be more sensitive about these things and not so boxed-in with my masculine-thinking on this, but my manners just won’t let me. “I’ve got it.”
“Not happening.” She levels me with a look and I fight off a smile.
“Split it?” I suggest.
The bill is like twelve dollars, asking her to pay for half would be ridiculous, but here we are.
