Page 21 of Rewrite the Rules

“You’re my assistant. I don’t want to take advantage of you or make you feel like I’m pressuring you into—”

“Oh! No don’t worry about that. I don’t feel pressured. Ilikeyou. I want to do this.” I lean forward again trying to put my lips on his to demonstrate thethisI’m referring to.

This time Joel pulls away so emphatically, the back of his head knocks against the driver’s side window. “I’m really sorry.”

I nestle back into my seat. “Is this about your dating thing, because we don’t have to—”

“I just don’t—”

“I’m not expecting anything serious. I just thought we could have som—”

Joel holds up his hand to stop me. “We should probably stay professional—”

“I checked the rules befo—”

“Adler.” Joel lifts his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose in one fluid movement before looking down at his lap. “I’m just not attracted to you in that way. I’m sorry.”

Well that effectively shuts me up.

Traffic begins to crawl and I refasten my seat belt. The heat in my cheeks singes my skin from the inside. A dull burning ache in my stomach groans. My subconsciousness distracts me with a painful little skit.

Adler:Tell it to me straight, doc. I can handle it.

Doctor: It’s your ego. It’s in critical condition. I don’t think we can save it.

Adler: Okay, do it. Pull the plug. Let’s shut this whole damn operation down.

Joel pushes slightly on the gas petal and we inch forward. “Look, that might’ve come out wrong. I meant that—”

“Hey, Joel? Please just drive and forget about all this. Okay? Thanks.”

I fix my eyes on the traffic in front of us. I super glue my gaze forward through the windshield where it remains for the rest of the torturous car ride home.

eight

Joel

Cody Kartlin is my only friend from New York who wanted to visit me in the Mile High City. On Friday afternoon, I wait in passenger pickup at Denver International Airport, hoping he hurries his ass along before I have to abandon my spot in the ‘absolutely no parking’ car line. I would’ve opted for short-term parking if there was any space left.

A traffic guard wearing a bright orange vest eyes me warningly and I’m almost certain I’ll need to loop around the airport. But perfectly timed, a mammoth-sized figure emerges from the airport exit.

Cody has grown his blond hair to shoulder-length. He leaves it down underneath his beanie with the Bandits’ logo. He’s visibly sweating. I can see the dampened spots on his white t-shirt under his unzipped hoodie from across the street. The idiot is wearing a winter ensemble. He has what looks like thermal-lined sweats, complete with UGG boots like he’s about to hit the slopes.

I roll down the tinted passenger window so he can see me. “Cody!” I bellow.

He spins around on the curb and in the most embarrassing display of theatrics, prances across the street to my SUV. He leans in, grinning ear to ear. He ignores the honking protests of the cars behind me because Cody moves for no one.

“Get out here and give me a hug.”

“Just get the hell in the car.”

He crosses his arms and leans away from the window, pretending to pout. “You don’t call, you barely text. You run away to a new city and break up the bromance. I don’t know, man. I just don’t feel like your heart is in this anymore.”

“There are people trying to get around us.”

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“Thoroughly.”

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