The Rule Book

by Sarah Adams

I’m not ready to face the man himself. The man I still dream about when I absolutely shouldn’t.

Because the last time I saw Derek, my college boyfriend, was when I was breaking up with him.

Find Derek A Wife

to help Nathan get out of the friend zone with his best friend (now wife), Bree.

It wasn’t until a few months ago that I was finally diagnosed with what my supposed goofing off was…dyslexia. One night while lying in bed and scrolling through social media, I came across a video where a guy was describing what living with dyslexia was like for him. I was shocked—because everything he described, those were my experiences too. I got in with a learning specialist quickly, and after testing, it was confirmed. I’m dyslexic.

It wasn’t until I snapped my ankle on the field at the end of last season and needed surgery that my identity altered. I’ve leaned on this career for security and acceptance for so long that I don’t know who the hell I’d be without it. What will all these people think of me when I can no longer do the one thing I was good at. Worthless.

I’ve only contemplated the idea of marriage with one woman. The only woman that I’ve ever felt really loved me for who I was outside of football.

Nora—the woman I wanted to marry from the day I met her—off

thinking about where she is now or wondering for the thousandth time why I wasn’t enough for her. Yes, we were opposites. Her being incredibly smart and driven and academically focused whereas I was a jock with an undiagnosed learning disorder who was great at partying. But we were also compatible in a lot of ways. We loved to compete—turning everything into a pointless, fun game and thriving off it. We had chemistry that I’ve never felt with anyone else.

now I’m stuck with the agency rookie who’s never had a client in her life.

“Ooh, maybe she’ll be gorgeous and single, and you’ll fall madly in love,” says Bree with hearts in her eyes.

the way he looked at me as if I were the greatest thing in the world.

We understood each other in a way no one else did. Even our need for constant competition. It was normal for us to randomly declare a race to wherever we were going. Who could balance a cup on their head the longest. The floor is lava. Ridiculous little competitions all the time. We had that silly, soul-wrenching young love that can only exist in a bubble full of skipping class, staying out all night to see the sunrise while eating gas station donuts, and ignoring my textbooks in favor of watching him practice or play a game.

I realized Derek didn’t understand one of the most important parts of who I was. So just before we graduated college and he was drafted into the NFL, I ended it. Abruptly and cold...

“There’s a pole,” I say, grabbing her arm and tugging it just enough to maneuver her safely around it.

I set my hands on her waist, refuse to acknowledge the way she smells like a sweet tropical pink drink, and lift her off the ground, setting her down away from my door. Obstacle removed.

the audiobook I was listening to resumes playing at max volume. It’s something the learning specialist told me to try—apparently listening to an audiobook is an easier way for my brain to comprehend information. I thought I’d give it a try with a fantasy series that everyone loved in high school, whereas I hated it because it was so difficult to read. I wanted to see what I was missing out on.

But dammit, I do. Because this is Nora. My Nora. And this is why I told myself not to look in her eyes, because then I’ll see everything we once were reflected in them. I’ll see that she’s more gut-wrenchingly beautiful than ever, and no matter what she does or where she goes, in my heart she’ll always be mine. And I hate her for it.

“I’m so sorry, Derek. I thought I could do this with you, but I can’t. I want to break up. You’re going your way and…I can’t go with you. This never should have happened between us. It was a mistake.”

All these years of trying to forget her, trying to get over her and not compare every woman I meet against her, and here she is…asking to be my agent. Asking to step right back into my life as if nothing of significance ever happened.

“I took your virginity,” I say bluntly, and watch as red splotches rise on her cheekbones. “In your dorm room on your pink comforter. You cried after and told me that having sex with me was going to be your new favorite hobby.” She opens her mouth and closes it when I press on. “I know that you have a pattern of freckles on your right ass cheek that looks like the Big Dipper. And that you make a soft little noise right before you—”

Like wanting to marry her because I was so in love with her it physically hurt, only for her to break up with me before I ever got the chance.

After she broke up with me, I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t focus for weeks. The one person I thought loved me for who I was and not for the sport I played or my fame on the horizon broke up with me on a random Tuesday without warning or so much as a guilty excuse. It was torture, and I’ve just decided to give her a little taste of it.

“Derek—after this, I will stop asking you for things—but please…I’m begging you. Will you let me color-code the rules?”

Back in the day, Derek would have quipped that I’m such a nerd. And then he would have pulled me into his lap right here in the middle of the café and made out with me until my lips were bruised and there was a hickey on my neck. It’s the kind of thing I would only ever do with him.

A little communication would go a long way between us.”

Apparently, Derek doesn’t just remember me, he remember-remembers me.

And in tiny invisible ink subtext scribbled on the bottom corner of my heart: I miss my Derek.

Because when a man doesn’t encourage you to reach for the stars, Nora Bug, he’s putting you in a glass jar to contain your light. We don’t have to settle for air through holes poked in the top of a lid. We get to become stars ourselves

for my date.

Tha fuck

“Please tell me you did not just try to pick up that glass with your bare hands?” He takes my hand in his, turning it palm up and studying it closely.

“Focus on me. Forget you saw anything, okay?” His eyes look so soft right now—a

I’m looking into the face of the man I once loved.

Does he realize he’s holding me so affectionately? Possessively? It’s not the kind of touch a stranger would give. It’s the kind that says You were mine once.

“Nora. Did you organize my junk drawer?” “I did, yes.” He continues staring at it and I can’t tell for sure but it looks like he’s fighting a smile.

He looks up at the ceiling and now I could swear it’s because he doesn’t want me to see him smile.

I don’t know who closes the distance, but somehow, we’re closer and his hands find my waist, shifting me more toward the edge of the counter. My inner thighs press against his hips, and our faces hover centimeters apart. “Nora, are you…seeing anyone now?” Derek whispers so quiet it’s like he didn’t even want me to hear it. Like if the words are silent enough they don’t count. “No.” My breath trembles out of me. Derek’s gaze drops to my parted mouth, and without meaning to, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. His expression shifts to one of agony now, and I remember the rule I just broke.

His face angles lower and mine lifts, removing that small gap between us. Our lips brush softly—not quite a kiss but more of a refrain. There’s no pressure or commitment to it, only a gesture laced with torture. Maybe this is our next unspoken competition: Who can withstand the tension the longest?

I had my fingers in her hair again. My hands on her thighs—her hips. The feel of her skin under my fingertips. Her mouth against my lips. I can’t quite call what happened to us against that counter a kiss, but it sure wasn’t not-a-kiss either. All I know is whatever it was, it was devastating. Memories, emotions, and desire all rushed me.

Nora is standing in the middle of the stairs wearing one of my T-shirts that absolutely swallows her whole and has paired it with my athletic shorts—drawstring pulled tight just to keep them from sagging off her hips. She looks so damn cute.

I think the revenge aspect is just a cover. I think you still love her but wanted a way to be near her again without risking anything.” Yes.

God, I miss him. More than I’ve missed anything in my life, and this aching won’t stop. I made a mistake—that’s all there is to it. I never should have ended things with Derek, and definitely not as coldly as I did. And I’m going to get him back.

Nausea builds in my stomach as I realize they’re going to kiss. No. We only broke up a week ago…how could he move on so quickly? How could he— I open my mouth to yell his name as the woman rises on her tiptoes to kiss him. He bends his head to accommodate her, but no words will come out of my mouth. Nothing but hot air releases as I try again and again to yell his name.

Derek is a founder of one of the biggest foundations that helps struggling single moms pay their rent or mortgage, but he funds it anonymously. When I read that email, my heart stopped. Because I happen to know that Derek does not have a single mom. In fact, he comes from a family with a mom and dad very much in support of each other. But I was raised by a single mom…and Derek knows this. He knows it because I talked to him repeatedly about how much I admired my mom and all she sacrificed for me. That I wished there were more funding for single moms to lessen their financial burdens so my mom could have been working toward her own dreams while also trying so hard to make mine possible. I told my silly heart not to look too deeply into this. But it won’t stop jumping to assumptions that he did this for me.

You used to love my catchphrases.

Something like handing me a water bottle if we’ve been outside too long. Always making sure I’m fed when he keeps me busy with tasks. Pretending he doesn’t see me if I accidentally nod off on the job from the super early mornings combined with my sleepless nights. Yesterday, I could have sworn I fell asleep sitting at his kitchen island while going through his emails, but when I woke up, I was lying on his couch with a blanket.

But how can I annoy the shit out of her if she’s not here? She’s supposed to be here.

What if something happened to her? What if she got in an accident on the way here? On the way to bring me a suit that I don’t even need. I run a hand through my hair, considering calling the hospitals,

I charge out the front door and meet her in the driveway. She steps out of her car and a breeze whips her hair into her face. Even though she has no reason to, she smiles when she spots me barreling toward her. She is sunshine parting the clouds in my miserable day,

It’s how I’ve felt the entire two weeks working with her. I’m supposed to hate her. I’m supposed to find her smile irritating. And those weird quirky catchphrases? Really supposed to hate those. But do I? No way. If anything, I have to fight with everything in me to not smile when she banters at me. To not wrap her in my arms every time she’s within reach.