The Rule Book

by Sarah Adams

Sometimes life is like a box of chocolates, and sometimes life is like a box of chocolates left out in the sun all day.

Find Derek A Wife

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.

Sharp, cornflower-blue eyes connect with mine—so beautiful they’re nearly cruel, and I feel an old glimmer of something tug between us. And then a thought grips me before I can banish it. I’m not over him, and I’m scared I never will be.

Nora’s soft smile as she sits beside me in class frantically writing notes and I draw an invisible heart over and over on the top of her thigh.

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 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.”

“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—”

What a touching speech. It can go to hell.

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?”

“Rule number one…”

“No discussing our history.”

“Number two…”

No prying into personal lives,”

“Rule number three, no friendship.”

“Number four…”

“No kissing.”

“Rule number five, no unnecessary touching. Because, you know, we wouldn’t want anyone”—I

“getting their emotional wires crossed at any point.”

“Rule number six…no flirting.”

“Rule number seven, always wear pants in meetings.”

“Rule number nine.”

“Wear all clothing at all times in all places. No exposed skin.”

I miss my Derek.

My door. The Sharks are my team full of my brothers and they are trying to hand my position over to Abbot on a silver platter.

man-minion,

corn nuts

What is with these insults?

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

We chuckle. Both of us knowing the other is full of shit.

I’ll always be the girl hoping this is the time he decides to stick around in my life instead of trading me out for a new family—only circling back around again when the other one fizzles out.

That was the day I realized no one would care about me as much as I cared about myself—and I needed to fight for my dreams because no one else would.

because I don’t like to be alone with my thoughts and therapy is too expensive. British people kindly competing in a low-stakes baking competition to win a plate is the next best thing.

“Nora, it’s me.”

Dere-Bear.

Derek grabs me around the waist and hauls me up onto the counter.

“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.

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.

“Lie back,” he commands,

“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.

Reality suspends, the world narrows, and it’s just us. Me and Derek. 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?

No—I don’t have a date, but I wanted Nora to think I did because apparently I’m petty AF. Why do I even want her to feel jealous? That wasn’t part of the revenge plan.

“And we all know, pasta gives you the bloats and gas. You would never be caught dead eating pasta on a date. Therefore, you’re lying. Admit it.”

“And also tell us why you’re trying to hide the fact that a woman who wears a size nine shoe is already here somewhere? Did you put her in the closet? I swear we raised you better than that.”

Well shit. 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 swear, I will beat him as soon as that woman leaves.

“You wouldn’t have said yes to her if there wasn’t some part of you that actually wanted her as your agent. 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.”

The Derek whose hands felt like the first day of summer when you’ve been seasonally depressed for too long.