Page 51 of Rewrite the Rules

She scribbles a title on the top line of the notepad.Addie’s F-Buddy Rules for Survival.She underlines the heading, thrice.

“All right, Addie-girl, here are the coveted rules to having a fuck-buddy relationship the right way.” Tessa’s pen freezes as she raises a brow at me. “You’re going to want to laminate this.”

eighteen

Adler

Me:Can we just text?

Idon’t want Joel to hear my slurring. One beer—I’m fine. Two beers—I get giggly. Three beers—I start philosophical introspection. Four beers—which is my current predicament—I’m usually doling out sloppy kisses to every cheek in sight, blurring separate words into mega-words, and begging Reese or Quinn to marry me.

Joel:Why? Are you okay?

Me:Yes. About earlier…you know me. It’s still just me.

Joel:It was a little jarring to learn there’s a whole other side of you.

Me:There’s really not. The book is fiction. I’m the real me with you.

Joel:Good. I like the real you.

Me:What if we were fun bunnies?

I squint and reread my text. Something doesn’t look right. Damn auto correct.Why doesn’t that look right?F…u…oh!I got it.

Me:Sorry, I mean fun bunnies.

Dammit!Stop censoring me phone.

Joel:Are we replacing ‘n’ with ‘ck’ and buddies for bunnies?

Me:*thumbs-up emoji* *blow kiss face emoji* *pizza emoji* *beer emoji*

Joel:You’re drunk.

Me:Yes…but I already thought about this sober. I can handle it. I can take this for what it is.

Joel:We’ll talk about it when you get back.

Me:Tomorrow. My place. I’ll call you when I’m off the plane.

Joel:Adler, don’t play games with me. It’s getting too hard to say no to you.

Then don’t.

* * *

It takes twelve beers over the course of two hours to get Tessa and me belligerently drunk. Twelve is the magic number. At ten beers we were somewhat reasonable. By twelve we’re getting noise complaints because our downstairs neighbors are not impressed with our whimsical furniture hopping.We have to! The floor is lava you assholes!

Luckily, prior to our downward slip into drunken stupors, Tessa jotted down the ten simple guidelines that will require strict adherence for me to remain just “fun bunnies” with Joel.

The rules are simple. They are custom tailored for the top ten worst habits of fuck buddies who say they are okay just being friends but are secretly trying to flip a script. I am determined to be the exception. I will not push Joel into a relationship. We’ll just enjoy toe-curling, heart-stopping, out-of-your-mind romping in the sheets.

Joel will be my introduction to thisside of a grown-up relationship. Simply a professor to a student. A Yoda to a Luke. Then, when I finally do meetthe one, I won’t have this very awkward gift to give him.

Brilliant. Perfection. Genius.

Not stupid and reckless at all.

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