Page 85 of Rewrite the Rules

“Shit, Adler. You’re freezing.” Joel’s hand trails over my bare thigh. November is when the Colorado weather really starts to change. Some days are still filled with sunshine and shorts weather, but after nine o’clock the temperature dips dramatically. The long-sleeved formfitting dress I’m wearing tonight does nothing to protect my chilly legs. It’s a choice for style, not comfort. Poor Joel endures my ratty sweatpants and messy buns so often, I wanted to give him something nicer to look at tonight.

“I’m okay.” I’m shivering which is not convincing.

“No, you’re not. Come on. Let’s go inside.” Joel tugs on my waist, leading me away from the ledge, but I don’t budge.

“I just need a few more minutes with this view,” I offer as a simple explanation. I watch the cars zip by below. Even the streets are lit up in a medley of colors from the changing traffic lights and pedestrian signals. The whole city looks busy and alive.

“Are you thinking about your book?” Joel breathes into my ear, covering me again with his warm body as my blanket.

He knows some of the sensual scenes in my book are inspired by our adventures. He loves it. Every time Joel sends me over the edge, he asks me ifthistime is going to make it into the story. He puffs his peacock feathers up whenever I tell him I’ve run out of pages just trying to do his body justice with my words. The sex scenes, he’s great with. The fact that this book is basically a secret love letter to Joel is something I keep to myself. Once I re-pitched the story to Ted, he was hooked.

‘I love it, Adler. It’s daring, cringeworthy, and there’s guaranteed heartbreak. The heroine is so authentically naive. She’s going to get her heart ripped apart and the readers are going to really feel it.’

‘Hey, Ted—you realize this is my life we’re talking about, right?’

‘Yeah, what’d I say?’

“Areyouthinking about my book?” I laugh as a white puff of air escapes my lips. Joel’s growing hardon nudges against the back of my thigh.

“Maybe,” he says, smiling into the back of my neck. His breath, now cool, tickles my earlobe. “But tell me seriously. What’re you thinking about? You’ve got an odd look on your face.”

“Okay, but it’s going to ruin what you have growing down there.”

“I’ll risk it. What’s on your mind?”

“My mom and how much she hates the city. We could be side by side, staring at this view, and we’d see such different things.”

“Oh.” Joel retreats and I’m exposed against the freezing night air. He walks inside without a word. Talking about parents isn’t sexy, but I didn’t think he would bethatput off.

Joel returns with the blanket from his living room. He pushes a button on the outdoor electric fireplace and gets comfortable on the wicker sectional lining his balcony. He pats the green cushion next to him and holds out the blanket.

“Come on, Baby Spice. I’ve been waiting for this one.”

I slip under the warm blanket with Joel and let his hands dance up and down my legs under the covers.

“What do you mean you’ve been waiting for this one?” I cautiously squint one eye.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I would need to get two parrots to take on the job of mimicking you. You talk nonstop but never once have you mentioned your parents.”

“That’s not true…about my parents. The parrot thing…only slightly accurate.” I scowl.

“It is true. I know everything about your friends, a little about your grandma, and nothing about your parents. You know about my family. I told you about my brothers and my little sister. You know I’m third-generation French and Italian. You know my parents were separated until recently. You know I went to college in Alabama to get away from their bullshit. Here’s everything I know about your family…”

My eyes lift to meet Joel’s. “You didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. But I know Quinn won’t walk on the beach because she has an irrational fear of death by suffocation in quicksand. I know that Noa still has a very large portfolio of all the Pappyland drawings she did as a child. I know Reese’s hair grows three sizes in the humidity because even though she doesn’t look it, she’s a quarter Puerto Rican. Last but not least, Amani has a birthmark above her ankle that looks like a tic-tac-toe board. You guys have filled it out in permanent marker on more than one occasion on girls’ nights after she passed out, drunk.” Joel squeezes my knee, touching the ticklish spot that makes my whole leg twitch. “How’d I do?”

“I…um…” I try to formulate a response and can’t. I have been spilling my guts to Joel like a silly schoolgirl. I pinch my fingers at the corner of my lips and pretend to zip and lock my mouth before I lob my fictitious key over the balcony ledge to plummet to the streets of downtown Denver. “I’m officially done rambling to you about my life.”

Joel’s laugh comes from deep in his throat. He pulls my legs over his under the blanket and runs his strong hands from my ankles to my knees.

“Tell me about your parents.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know something about your parents that even your best girlfriends don’t know. I want an Adler secret all to myself.”

“That’s a tall order. I tell my best friends absolutely everything. Even about the Littlefoot tattoo I have right on my bikini line.”

---