The Rule Book

by Sarah Adams

I tuck my cards a little closer to my chest.

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

We had chemistry that I’ve never felt with anyone else. The kind that slips into your bloodstream and alters you.

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.

And what the hell is argle-bargle?” I really don’t want to ask that last question, but it’ll eat at me if I don’t.

What a touching speech. It can go to hell.

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

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

“I just can’t stop thinking of how ironic it is that I ended it with him to pursue my career, and now my career is hinging on him.”

But first, I change his contact in my phone to Dere-Bear.

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.

My brain sits happier when things are in nice little rainbow rows.

I remember it like it was yesterday. The jolt to my nervous system. The grip of my body that said, Him…he’s important.

“Which is why our friendship isn’t contingent on our contracts. We’re like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” Lawrence settles back down on the floor.

“Are you still in love with her?” For once I’m too tired to fight with him. “Yes, I am. Deeply. Terribly.”

Hey, I’m still in love with you and unless you love me back, we can’t do this because it hurts so damn much to be near you and not have you. But then she says, “Is it…do you…do you still hate me?” My heart rips down the middle. Do I hate her? I hate that when your mouth curves into a smile, I can’t kiss it. I hate that you hold my heart in a vise grip and you have no idea. I hate that I’ve never been able to move on from you—not for a single day. I hate that if I were to tell you all of this, you’d leave, and I’d be left vulnerable and bleeding out at the bar.

“Why would you even consider doing that?” His smile curves softly and when he shrugs, the combination is almost sad. “Because it’s for you.”

Even when I was at my angriest with her, I still would have stepped in front of a bus for her.

Dere-bear 🥹🥹

“When I feel out of sorts, organizing helps me relax.”

Because opinions are not fact. As my mom always said, opinions only become truth if you accept them as such.

The difference is unmistakable. The Derek I dated in college was a boy. This Derek is a man. And it would seem he’s a trustworthy one.

And if your heart wants Derek…well then, my sugar plum fairy, as of tomorrow, you’ll have enough silverware to accommodate him.”

“I only lost because I want to show you in a physical way that I’m intentionally and completely vulnerable to you, Nora. That I’ll gladly lose to you every day of my life—because for me, the prize is just being near you.”

The next morning, Derek goes back to my place with me, where we eat breakfast with my lovely new utensils while I sit in his lap at the table.