Page 33 of Rewrite the Rules

Be brave, Adler. Follow the feeling.

I rise onto my tippy toes which doesn’t do much in these boots. I’m already as tall as I can be and Joel still towers over me. I wrap my hand around his neck and pause for a moment, giving him a final opportunity to stop me.

He doesn’t take it. Instead, he follows my lead and leans down so his lips meet mine. He smothers my body with his, wrapping me in the delicious smell of his cologne. It’s so familiar, like I recognize it from a dream. His hand flies to the back of my head, weaving in my hair as he holds my face against his. He presses deeper. His tongue unleashes. I eagerly part my lips to let him taste me.

This tug. This pang. This swoop. This singe.

Yes.

Joel’s other hand drifts south from the small of my back to my backside. His hand is as greedy as his tongue. It dips even lower and he plays with the tail of his shirt on me, sneaking under it so he can feel the bare skin of my rear. The night air is ice but his hands are on fire. I suspend between the two sensations in perfect balance. I melt right into him.

I want more.

There’s no overanalyzing his lips, his hands, or the feel of his stubble against my cheek. I borrow his breath and then I send it right back as I let a small moan escape my mouth onto his lips. The gears turn in perfect tandem and I click right into place in Joel’s arms, where I think I belong.

“Jokes aside—do you want to come up?” I’m breathless as I reluctantly break our kiss. My heart is racing out of control.

“Adler…” Joel hangs his head. “Believe me, I want to. So bad. But I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“I just asked if you wanted to come up. I didn’t exactly profess my love to you.” Am I begging?New low, Adler. New low!

Joel grabs the tips of my fingers and squeezes them one by one, tenderly. “Please understand that I mean this as a compliment. I know enough about you by now to say you deserve so much more than what I can give you. Can we just be friends?”

“Friends?” I swallow, trying to loosen the growing knot in my throat.

“Yeah, is that okay?” A crease of worry stripes across his forehead. He must genuinely feel bad right now. He should. That kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It was full of maybes. Full of hope.

I let his question hang in the air, because for once, I don’t know how to respond.

twelve

Joel

october

Ionly came out tonight as a favor to Cody. He heads back to Manhattan next week and he wanted to ‘bro-out’ (his words, not mine) downtown at least one more time before he leaves. After two weeks of visiting, he’s seen enough to don me an old-ass, anti-social, sex-starved, hermit crab. Again—his words.

Sarah Mc-something or another is a twenty-one-year-old yoga instructor who is not looking for anything serious. She’s just out with her girlfriends at the bar on Saturday night and wants to have a good time. Or at least this is what she’s slurring at me over shots of tequila.

I try to focus on the admittedly beautiful, voluptuous blonde sitting so close to me on the patio-furniture-style sectional that she’s practically sitting on me. It’s like we’re tethered by a rubber band. Every time I scoot an inch to the right to evade her wandering hand on my thigh, she snaps back up against me. And I mean no disrespect. She’s cute, sexy, flirty, and about three shots ago she could hold somewhat of a conversation. But now she’s near belligerent and won’t stop trying to rub me under this table.

I am going to kill Cody for basically wrapping her in a bow and shoving her in my direction. He told her I own a boat. Inaccurate. It’s a yacht and it was a purchase for a charity event. I never use it. Being stranded in the middle of the ocean is one of my top five worst nightmares. I realize I’m being irrational but if boarding a yacht increases a one percent chance of death to two percent…why risk it?

Cody waves at me with two fingers from the bar with a snarky glint in his eyes. I am tempted to wave back with just one of mine.

“You have really green eyes,” I say in an attempt to shrewdly inform Sarah that I’m looking at her face and not her exposed cleavage that she keeps thrusting in my face. Her white tank top is cut so low that nothing is left to the imagination. I’ll just say it…she has great tits. But I am zero percent interested.

“Oh my god,” she swoons. “You’re not like other guys, you’re like so sweet. I was born in May but I’m a spirit Scorpio and I think our energy is connecting, you know? Whoops.” Sarah catches the tequila dribbling from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Uh…well, I really don’t know what to say to that, Sarah.”

Truth is, I’m not trying to hit on her or be sweet. I was simply noticing how her green eyes are a stark contrast to the blue ocean drops I lose time thinking about daily. Sarah tries to nestle into my arm and the rim of her fedora with the pink ribbon wrapped around it scratches me. I squirm. I don’t know if it’s all the liquor or the fact that she’s eight years my junior but I feel like I could be arrested.

“Maybe you should slow down.” I try to scoot the remaining shot glasses on the table out of her reach. Our hands touch as she tries to pull them back and somehow, she misinterprets this as an invitation to plant a wet sloppy kiss on my lips.

I turn my head so she’s making out with mostly my cheek but her lip still catches the corner of my mouth. “Um…will you excuse me for a minute?”

I bolt from my seat like I’m fleeing a crime scene. Squeezing through the crowd, I spot an empty spot by the bar. I pretend like I’m ordering something and am relieved the bartender is running around spastically, far too busy to acknowledge me. It buys me more time so I whip out my phone.

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