Page 39 of Your Rule to Break
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” she says.
“That’s enough,” I cut her off, pointing a finger . “Thank you for apologizing. Now, excuse me.” I stand and walk to the bathroom, more annoyed than anything.
When I swing the door open, I see Eliza standing at the sink—it’s just her and me.
“Some of your friends are really on one tonight.” A nervous chuckle escapes as I check my reflection in the mirror. “Sorry, it’s not for you to worry about. All is well.”
“I haven’t talked to some of them in months. Tonight’s a little weird, being back together.” Eliza washes her hands, her eyes down. “Honestly, I think you’re the reason some of them came tonight. They’ve been asking me about Zack, and Willow, and even Tripp. I don’t think they really care about this.” She gestures to herself before showing me her engagement ring—a two carat princess cut diamond on a platinum band.
My heart drops. This is a feeling I know all too well and no matter how much time passes, it still stings. Realizing people don’t want you, or view you as a steppingstone, is truly the fucking worst. The irony is that them not wanting you is mostly a reflection of themselves, and not of you, but it never feels like that when you’re on the receiving end.
“You know you don’t have to keep them around, right? Like, you can make new friends,” I insist.
Her sigh is frustrated. “I’m not like you, Emilie,” she tells me, and it’s not the first time. But this time, it feels like itmightbe a compliment.
She offers me a sad smile, one where only a single corner of her mouth barely pulls up.
Eliza walks out before I have a chance to say anything else.
Chapter 21
Zack
One of my favoritetraditions is my dad coming to my first away game. Since my first college football season, he’s always made the trip—no matter how far or bad the matchup. When it started, I’m guessing it was supposed to be him and my mom, but she got too nervous and backed out.
The family always jokes about how she’s too gentle for football. Even though I’m a special teams player and am rarely in a position for actual injury, she’s only seen me play a handful of times after high school.
My dad and I always grab dinner, or whatever sort of meal we can. One year, I’m pretty sure it was just a platter of chocolate chip cookies and a beer from the mini-bar, around eleven pm, the night before the game.
It may not sound like a lot, but it’s one of the things I look forward to every year. Now I’m able to get him great seats, or a field pass if he wants. I don’t care where he sits, but I play with a different type of energy knowing my dad is there.
We’re playing an early game, so my dad and I are planning to get dinner afterwards.
I’m in the locker room before everyone else—I like to get there early and do everything I need before the entire team is here. Before I turn my phone off, two messages come in.
Riley
be safe and have fun
also, you better win
Me
obviously
let me know how dinner with dad goes
he’s been a little spacey lately
cut the man some slack
he’s tired
he’s worked hard his whole life he’s allowed to be tired lol
Classic Riley, always thinking something is wrong or constantly worried. She’s always been a bit of a hypochondriac, which has proven to cause more harm than good. Like the one time she convinced me, and my parents, that I had spinal meningitis. After a painful spinal tap, and a ridiculous amount of undue stress, turns out I had a normal cold with really swollen lymph nodes that were sore when I turned my neck.
I’m pretty sure that’s what sparked Riley going to therapy—which she desperately needed. We all went with her a few times, on our own, and as a family. Her therapist helped explain what it was like to be Riley; the anxiety of every single day, the things she’d worry about—sometimes make herself physically sick about.