Page 111 of Rewrite the Rules

Joel lets out a deep shaky breath. His eyes fall to his lap before they lock on mine. The look he’s giving me is pleading. He’s begging me not to make him answer but I nod in a subtle commandment.Answer.“No,” he whispers, then clears his throat. “I don’t think I will.”

I bite my bottom lip and nod. “Thank you, for being honest at least.”

It hurts. Terribly. Miserably.

But I’m still here.

I’m still standing.

“What about our pact?”

“What?” I ask, barely hearing his question over the knock of my heart.

“We said we’d stay friends. Remember?” He wraps his arms around me quickly, allowing no time for me to escape. “Please don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Joel.”Thump, thump, thump.My heart pounds mercilessly. “But I can’t be around you and nothope. So, I can’t see you. I can’t work for you. I can’t live my life at the edge of my seat wishing you’d change who you are. That’s not fair to you, either.”

“Adler…” Joel begins but doesn’t know what to say. He knows. He knows I’m right.

The tears aren’t dripping, they’re pouring. “Will you please leave?”

He shakes his head matter-of-factly. “I’m not leaving you like this—”

“Please.”

“No. I left you alone once while you were crying—I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Joel—you said you wanted to know what I wanted…this.I really want to be alone right now. I really need to moveforward. Even if it’s not with you.”

“Adler, I don’t—”

“Please. Leave.” I force the words in a clear staccato.

A swift kiss to my cheek and a light haze of his cologne is all he leaves me with as he obliges my reluctant request. I wait until the door shuts behind him. I count to ten to ensure he’s made it to the stairs. The dramatic thump of my heart eases. The adrenaline no longer holds me steady, so I collapse. Fat droplets fall from my face and melt into the couch.

I didn’t wake up this morning with a sex hangover because I was still drunk. What’s in my veins is far more potent and the fallout from withdrawals feels like death. All this time, I was mistaken. It was never about sex. It was love.

Only losinglovecan hurt this bad.

thirty-seven

Adler

The soft knock at my door is just a courtesy. I know who it is and the person on the other side knows it’s unlocked. I don’t even bother getting out of bed. I just pull the covers over my head to hide my swollen eyes and blotchy complexion.

“Addie?”

“Up here.”

I hear bags rustling as Quinn places something down on the kitchen counter. She trudges up the stairs with two beers in hand. She sits up in my bed, on the passenger side, as I like to call it. She’d probably leap up in disgust if she knew Joel was lying there less than twenty-four hours ago. But she’s safe on top of the covers, so I won’t divulge unnecessary details.

I peek out of the makeshift cave of my comforter. Quinn’s sitting up, back against the wall with her long tan legs twisted around the ankles. She takes a long swig from her beer. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“How did you know?” I grumble. I didn’t call or text any of my friends after Joel dumped me in my own home the morning after I said I love you. I just crawled under my sheets and let the pain peel back all my layers of skin so it can really seep into the core organs.

“Cody texted me when Joel got home this morning. I guess he looked so shitty, Cody wanted to know how you were faring. I had no clue what he was talking about. Kind of kills me I heard it from him. Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve been here in a heartbeat. Did you call anyone?”

“Yes,” I admit.

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