Page 43 of Your Rule to Break
Buckets of rain drop from the sky, gray and ominous. We drive slowly in the parking lot as it fills with the water that’s coming down too fast.
The thing about the Upstate Cosmos is they’re not really Upstate—the stadium is located just outside the city, far enough to have the room but close enough to still deal with the horrific New York City traffic.
My phone vibrates with a notification: severe thunderstorm warning. We’re about to turn out onto the road when I show it to Zack.
“You good with driving slow, trying to get back to your apartment?” he asks, putting the car in park, giving me time.
The alternative is to post up at the stadium, and that doesn’t sound appealing. “Yes, let’s try to get back.”
We drive painfully slow, and I keep my eyes on the radar. There’s not any lightning or thunder yet, just heavy rain. There are some parts of the interstate with standing water; cars driving too fast don’t see it until it’s too late—we’ve seen a handful of them hydroplane.
My heart races, and my body’s tired. I’m not typically concerned about weather, since New York doesn’t get anything too severe: no hurricanes, earthquakes, and a tornado would be extremely rare. But given the last few days, and lack of sleep, my nerves are shot. I crave my apartment, my bed, my own space.
The thoughts, which I have no energy to shove down, are getting louder. What if you drove into oncoming traffic? What if that car side swipes us? Is my car door locked? Is my seatbelt really buckled?
Zack slams on the breaks, putting his arm out in front of my chest, as a car spins out in front of us. If he hadn’t been driving with enough space between the car in front of us, we’d probably have hit them.
“If these people would slow the fuck down.” he says, his chest rising and falling with nervous breath. “You okay?” He looks over, and I nod.
My phone, which I'm holding too tight, vibrates. When I turn it over, I thought I'd see another weather alert. Instead, it’s a barrage of social media notifications. I open the app and my stomach drops.
Zack Andersen NSFW Video Leaked.
The post shows a still of Zack, completely nude, parts of him censored, with a blonde draped over him. They’re clearly both naked and it’s not hard to guess what they were doing. Without thinking, I scroll the comments: ‘what about @ehayestrueblue,’ ‘omg so much better than @ehayestrueblue,’ ‘thought he was a good one – poor emilie.’ It’s everyone commenting and mentioning my handle which has my phone blowing up.
I can’t do this. Any of this. The weather. This thing with Zack; I’ll just call it off and go to the wedding alone. I'm too rundown to pretend anymore. Pretend that this doesn’t hurt.
Since I love to torture myself, I click on the short clip. It's Zack, naked, and a woman naked around his waist. They laugh as he walks her toward the wall. When they’re kissing, hands all over each other, I turn my phone over and cross my arms against my chest.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Zack offers, looking over at me, sensing my mood change.
“How much longer?” I ask, not wanting to get into this right now.
“I’m guessing fifteen minutes.” He focuses on the road.
I turn and act like I'm fixated on what’s outside my window. I can’t see much but dark gray and water. I focus on the raindrops falling on the window until we get to my apartment.
Chapter 23
Zack
Something’s wrong with Emilie.She’s been off, even at the event—kind of like she’s smiling but in a way she knows she’s supposed to. She’s on edge, and I keep catching her putting her hand on her chest. It makes me want to figure out what’s going on, find a way to bring her back to me.
Not that’s she mine, not really. Tell that to my brain before bed or my dick when I think of all the times we’ve been together and always found ways to touch.
After seeing how her family treats her and how she’s practically accepted it, I want to protect her. I know she doesn’t need it but, fuck, I want to do it anyway.
This weather is wild; standing water fills the road, and I’m trying to get us home safely. I’m trying to get to her apartment, but some of the roads are impassable, completely flooded.
Finally, I'm on her street, but the flooding ahead means we’ll have to walk.
“I’m going to park where it’s not flooded, and we’re going to run to your apartment, ok?”
She doesn’t say anything, but instead zips her purse and herWhen We Playquarter zip.
I park the car when she says, “You don’t have to come with me. I’m fine.” It’s like an order and not a suggestion. She has her hand on the door handle and opens it before I have a chance to do anything.
Scrambling, I unbuckle, feel for my key fob in my pocket, and run after her. It’s not flooded on the sidewalks, not yet at least, but the sky is getting darker and the rain shows no sign of stopping.