Page 55 of Your Rule to Break
“Oh, nothing. Definitely not telling Emilie about the time we went trick-or-treating as Beauty and the Beast.” She takes a drink and locks her eyes on mine.
I smile, shaking my head. It was Riley’s idea to match, and she wanted to be the Beast, so I went as Belle. Riley may be younger than me, but she’s always had a knack for getting me to do exactly what she wanted.
My sister nudges Emilie and says, “I’ll send you pictures.”
I shake my head and scoff, kind of laughing, mostly because I know it doesn’t matter what I say. Riley and Emilie have probably already exchanged numbersandincriminating photos of me. Compared to some of the things that are out there, including the video where you can see 95% of my naked body, a picture of me dressed as a princess shouldn’t even move the needle.
“Time to eat,” my mom announces, setting a massive bowl of pasta on the table. “The pasta is fresh. Chris and I made it this morning, and it’s just garlic, parmesan, a little salt and pepper.”
My mouth is watering, and I'm already putting a pile of it on my plate.
“Fresh pasta. Yum! I learned how to do that at a cooking class this year,” Emilie says, before grabbing some for her plate.
“I need the details. Chris and I love cooking together.” Mom reaches over and rubs my dad’s forearm, her sleeves rolled up a little.
“Oh my gosh, is that a tattoo?” Emilie asks, looking at my mom’s wrist.
It is. My jersey number, 34, in a blocky font, with a small airplane. Jersey number for me and the airplane for Riley.
“Yes. We all have one. Riley asked for matching tattoos for her eighteenth birthday.”
“Stop, I love that so much,” Emilie says to the table. Then she turns to me with her brows raised. “Where’s yours?” she asks, quietly enough for just the two of us.
“My ribs.” I lift my arm, rubbing the place where the ink lives on my skin. I look to see Riley, not paying attention and I’m thankful. If Emilie and I had really been dating for almost eight weeks at this point, she wouldn’t buy that Emilie hasn’t seen me naked yet.
“Do you have any tattoos?” Riley asks.
Emilie swallows, and I can see her rubbing her hands together in her lap before she answers. “No. I want to get one though. My family had a drastically different view on them, and even though I’m a grown adult, I'm still afraid of what my parents would say.”
Naturally. Her family stepping in and making her feel some type of way about something that doesn’t impact them at all seems completely on brand.
My mom shakes her head. “We’ve always wanted Riley and Zack to be able to express themselves, however it worked for them.”
“Like him spelling his name with a ‘K,’” Emilie says, spinning pasta on her spoon.
“Just like that,” my mom responds with a look of fondness, like she’s pleased I told Emilie that story.
“Now, do I wish there were times where someone didn’t express themselves so much? Like when the beginning of a sex tape drops?” My dad gives me a look and Riley starts to laugh, before my parents join in, and then Emilie and me.
I know it was stupid and a bit careless, but my parents supporting me, no matter what, means the world to me.
Her laugh runs out, and she looks at me, eyes bright but watery. I reach my hand over, squeezing Emilie’s knee.
After the goodbyes aresaid, phone numbers are exchanged between my mom and Emilie, and we both leave with containers full of leftover pasta, we’re in the car.
While I’m turning the GPS on to avoid any accidents or traffic, I hear a sniffle.
I look over to see Emilie crying.
Panic runs over my body in thick, heavy waves. “What’s the matter?” I ask, turning my body toward her, as much as my Jeep will allow.
She wipes her eyes with her fingers and replies, “I’m being stupid. Don’t mind me.”
Is she for real? Thinks she’s going to get in my car, start to cry, and I’m just going to be like sure, whatever you say? Not a chance.
I don’t say anything—letting the silence drag on, letting her know I’m not going to accept her previous answer.
“I had such a lovely time,” she says, right into a sob.