Page 28 of Your Rule to Break
“So, that was Cassie. She seems fun.” I clap my hands and set them in my lap. “What do you think she gave you?”
“Don’t know. Don’t really care.”
“She waited for you in a parking lot with an envelope. You’re not at all curious?”
“Not really. I’m not interested,” he says, his voice calm and level. “You can look if you want.”
And because I have no chill and have been curious since I saw the envelope in her hand, I take him up on his offer.
Kind of wish I hadn’t.
In my hand are three nude photos—actually printed on paper—one of them has a lipstick kiss on it. I need to wash my hands.
“That’s Cassie for you,” Zack says, like we’re talking about if it’s going to rain or not, but we’re planning to stay inside no matter the weather. Like it doesn’t matter
“Does this happen a lot?” I ask, not sure if I really want to know the answer.
“I mean, yes and no. I get a lot of pics sent to me, digitally. Printed nudes are kind of aggressive, but I’m not dumb enough to throw them away. I’ll shred them when I’m home.”
“Two things. One, you and I have very different lives. Two, this is kind of disgusting.”
“I’ve not been texting her. She sent me a nude the other day, when I was working out, and I just deleted it and moved on. No big deal.”
I nod in agreement. Because it shouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, for someone like Zack who has experiences like this often?
But why does it feel like I’ve been sucker punched?
Chapter 17
Zack
“Miss fidget, what’s yourdeal?” I ask as Emilie rolls her shoulders and stretches her neck for what seems like the eighth time in the last three minutes. We’re in the car, driving to her parents’ house for dinner, and she hasn’t stopped moving since she got in.
We’ve been doing the fake dating thing for a month, and it’s time to meet her parents.
She turns, with the fakest of smiles I’ve seen from her to date. “I’m fine. Just mentally preparing.”
“What’s your middle name?” I ask, trying to get her mind off whatever it’s stuck on.
“James.”
I expected Marie, Ann, Rose—certainly not James.
“Emilie James. That’s unique. I like it.”
“Thank you. People loved telling me it was a boy middle name… like letters have a gender association.” Her words would roll their eyes if they had them. “What’s yours?”
“William. That would make me Zachary William Andersen. I got to learn almost all the letters of the alphabet real quick.”
“You’re the first Zack I met with a ‘K’ instead of a ‘c’ or ‘ch.’”
“Well, my first name doesn’t actually have a K, it’s your typical CH spelling. But I came home from school one day demanding the different spelling; apparently I had an affinity for the letter K. My parents said yes. The rest is history.”
“Stop, that’s adorable. My parents would never. They even changed my nickname. Like friends started calling me EJ and they told me Em or Emmy was a better fit for a girl.” Her voice trails as she looks out the window.
I fucking hate that.
My hand finds her knee. I squeeze, and she looks over with a semi-sad smile on her lips. Maybe sad isn’t the right word—maybe tired would be better? I know family relationships are complicated but hers seems like it’s always been that way—even when she was a kid, when it’s supposed to be easy.