Unwritten Rules

  Copyright © 2018 by Eliah Greenwood

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any mean, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-9994390-1-9

  Cover design by Eliah Greenwood

  Cover Image by Shutterstock

  Editing by One Love Editing

  First printing edition 2018.

  Reality Survivor Publishing

  www.eliahgreenwood.com

  For my father, my number one fan and the person who always believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  P R O L O G U E

  O N E

  T W O

  T H R E E

  F O U R

  F I V E

  S I X

  S E V E N

  E I G H T

  N I N E

  T E N

  E L E V E N

  T W E L V E

  T H I R T E E N

  F O U R T E E N

  F I F T E E N

  S I X T E E N

  S E V E N T E E N

  E I G H T E E N

  N I N E T E E N

  T W E N T Y

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ALSO BY ELIAH GREENWOOD

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  P R O L O G U E

  The Way It All Began

  Unwritten Rules. Rules that are not written anywhere or indicated in any way. Rules that you are supposed to know naturally. People will automatically assume you are aware of them, which leads to another term I personally like to use to define unwritten rules—pain in the ass.

  Don’t sit next to a stranger if there are other seats left in between, smile back to whoever smiled at you, don’t cry in public, and don’t date your friends’ exes. Pretty easy, right?

  Wrong.

  I spent my entire life thinking I had it all figured out. Until I met him. The unwritten rule of Riverside High.

  It wasn’t like anything I’d ever seen before. This unwritten rule wasn’t a what. It was a who, and it came in the form of a blue-eyed Greek god with a bad temper and rock-hard abs.

  He was feared. People quivered at the sound of his name. His footsteps echoed in the terror-filled hallways, leaving racing hearts and sweaty palms behind. Rumors and violence followed him like a shadow. He had rules. Rules that no one dared to break.

  Or at least, no one but me.

  Everything could’ve been different. Every wrong could’ve been right. If only someone had told me…

  Welcome to Riverside High, Winter. Oh, and by the way: Never look Haze Adams in the eyes.

  O N E

  Everything Could Go Wrong

  Dear Universe, why do you hate me?

  A question we’ve all asked ourselves at least once. Why did I get out of bed this morning? What did I do to deserve this? Is it because of the time I threw sand at that annoying little boy in kindergarten? Or maybe it was the time I tossed something in the trash, missed, and didn’t bother to pick it up? It’s pretty hard to tell, especially when I’m the living proof that Karma has a sense of humor.

  Nevertheless, my eighteen years of life have been a series of unfortunate events and sick twists that led me here. To this moment. To asking why me? Payback for all the times I refused to eat my veggies, I guess.

  “Are you excited for your first day?” Kassidy asks.

  “Excited for it to be over.” I sigh, nervously fidgeting with the strings of my hoodie. This is it. The day I’ve been obsessing about. My first day as a senior in Riverside High School. As I come to the realization that we’ll be there soon, I can’t help but wish the car ride lasted a lot longer. Twelve hours longer.

  Moving to a new country and transferring schools right in the middle of my senior year wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, to say the least. Being the new girl is about as much fun as waiting for a text back after a love confession, thinking you’ve been at work for two hours but realizing it’s only been ten minutes and knocking your big toe on the table you swear wasn’t there before.

  In other words, I am not having any fun right now.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be so dramatic.” Kassidy lets out a mocking laugh. “You’ll fit right in. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  If someone had told me a couple of months ago that I would end up here, watching the palm trees parade past the windows of my cousin’s red car, I never would’ve believed it. My mother does not trust me to be home alone for six months while she’s away on a work trip. The crumpled note placed next to a plane ticket on the kitchen counter made that clear. She gave me a choice: either move to Florida to live with my aunt Maria and my cousins, or move in with our neighbor Ms. Davies, a retiree whose biggest regret is not having children. As kind as Ms. Davies is, she’s also the queen of “Oh, you’re not hungry anymore? Here are two more pieces of cake.”

  Needless to say, I chose option number one.

  And so here I am, hours away from Toronto and on my way to a whole new life. The only problem is, new isn’t exactly my thing.

  “Anything I need to know? Any mean girl I should stay away from?” I try and get my mind off the anxiety eating me alive.

  “Bianca Reed and her minions,” Kass automatically replies. “Definitely don’t give them a reason to hate you.”

  I nod. “Noted.”

  My heartbeat increases considerably when I spot the building I now get to call school in the distance. Bigger than any high school I’ve ever seen back home, it’s just as intimidating as I thought it would be. My cousin pulls up into the school’s parking lot, and suddenly, hitting my head against the window until I pass out seems like an option to consider.

  Seek discomfort, they say. This isn’t even discomfort anymore. We’re way past that point.

  “Ready?” Kassidy smiles, turning off the engine.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “It’s going to be fine. You’re not alone. Kendrick and I are here, remember?” she tries to reassure me. I do feel better knowing that I have family to turn to if I need help.

  Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I get out of the vehicle and slowly make my way to the entrance. My eyes jump to a faded sign where Riverside High School is written in bold letters. Next to it, a red graffiti tag—that they obviously failed to completely wash away—of the word “get” along with an arrow pointing at the word “high.”

  Get high.

  Typical.

  I push the front doors open and walk into the overcrowded hallways. I glance at the students. I can’t even imagine how hard it’s going to be to make friends. We’re seniors. Everybody already knows everybody.

  Trying to make friends is going to be like trying not to cry while watching The Notebook—an impossible task.

  As we make our way through the commotion with difficulty, I am surprised and a bit disappointed when I don’t see students that stink of clichés. No jocks, no cheerleaders, not even a couple of nerds. They seem like regular teenagers. Extraordinary ordinary. I assume the American high school movies I’ve watched in my life are to blame for my ridiculous expectations.

  Kassidy scoffs. “See? It’s just like any other school.”

  When I notice signs and directions are hung up on almost every wall, I sigh in relief, the fear o
f getting lost slowly fading away. What was I so afraid of?

  “We’re here.” She stops in her path and points at a locker with the number 308 on it. I will never be grateful enough that she arranged for us to be partners. I carelessly stack my books inside of it and look up. I immediately know something’s wrong when the happiness drains from my cousin’s face in a matter of seconds.

  She isn’t happy anymore.

  She’s scared.

  What in the world is she looking at? I turn around, my eyes stopping on the students who were laughing seconds before. One thing is clear: they’re not laughing anymore. The entire room has gone quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet you can’t possibly find in a packed high school hallway. Their eyes seem to be glued to the floor. No one dares to look up. Then, the million questions racing through my mind find an answer.

  There he is.

  Down the hall. A very tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably attractive guy. Walking with ease, he holds his head up high as a lock of his brown hair falls in front of his eyes. Tanned skin, tattoos, blue eyes.

  Never mind, I found a cliché.

  Everything about him screams trouble and “I just escaped from a bad teenage movie, someone take me back.”

  Sure, he looks good. Fine, he looks more than good, but not “my simple entrance was enough to shut everyone up” kind of good. Then, like he can feel the weight of my eyes on his shoulders, he looks up.

  Our eyes meet.

  I expect him to ignore it and carry on with his “I’m the terror of the school” job, but he does exactly the opposite. He frowns and maintains the eye contact like he’s waiting for me to look away.

  I don’t.

  “Tell me she didn’t,” I hear a girl mutter in the distance.

  Wait, what? Whispers surround me, creating a wave of murmurs from all the way down the hall to where I am.

  “What did you do?” Kass exclaims, horrified.

  “You tell me,” I let out, unable to even begin to understand the scene I’m witnessing. I look around the room, helpless. Absolutely everyone is staring at me, the look on their faces similar to the one you’d have if you’d just witnessed a crime.

  “You got a problem?”

  My heart skips a beat.

  Creepy but strangely attractive dude is standing right in front of me, his cold eyes piercing through my soul. His eyes… they’re very blue. Pale and clear. Almost unreal. His intimidating presence is a lot harder to ignore now that barely a couple of steps separate us.

  “Excuse her. She’s new. She doesn’t know.” I’m astonished when Kassidy intervenes, apparently begging him to have mercy on my life. What in the world is going on? What do I not know?

  He stays silent for a little while, carefully analyzing me without bothering to be subtle.

  “What’s your name?” His voice is deep and husky. I’m sure his demanding tone usually gets him everything he asks for, but truth be told, right now, all I feel like giving him is a slap. He looks me up and down. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “She won’t do it again,” Kassidy falters.

  “Did I ask you?” he says. It’s official. I hate his guts.

  His eyes find their way back to me. “What’s your name?”

  “Winter,” I answer, confused as to why it matters so much.

  “I am so sorry,” Kassidy begs yet again.

  What the hell is this?

  “Are you deaf? I said I’m not talking to you.” The way he raises his voice is what sets me off. That’s it. I’ve had enough.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, jackass?” The words leave my lips before I can stop them.

  The whispers stop abruptly as he raises his eyebrows in disbelief. Someone’s clearly not used to people talking back.

  “What did you just say to me?” He steps closer, tilting his head to the right as he thoroughly examines my face.

  “Winter, don’t.” My cousin reaches for my arm. I glance at her. Her eyes say don’t you dare. Mine say watch me.

  “You heard me.” I remove my arm from her grasp, gathering up what’s left of my courage.

  From there, everything happens so fast I can barely keep up. He fills the distance between us, causing me to step back so quickly my body hits my locker, the noise of the rattling metal ricocheting down the silent hallway. I instinctively close my eyes, anticipating a hit of some sort.

  But it never comes.

  “What are you doing? I’m not going to hit you.” A hint of mockery can be heard in his tone.

  I look back at him in shock. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, the distance between us so small I can smell his cologne. He smells disturbingly good. Of course he does.

  He leans forward as my heart thumps against my rib cage. Then, without a word, he pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “I’m going to let this go because you’re new, love. But watch your mouth from now on.”

  He looks into my eyes one last time before pulling away.

  Chills spread throughout my entire body.

  I can’t speak. Hell, I can’t breathe.

  I watch him disappear down the hall, his words playing in my mind like a broken record. The students understand that the show is over and start dissipating. Kass still hasn’t moved a muscle, biting her lower lip roughly, an obvious sign that she feels guilty.

  “What just happened?” is all I can say.

  “I am so sorry. I completely forgot to tell you about him.”

  I can’t bring myself to listen. The students acted like it was normal. Like they were used to it.

  Just a regular day at Riverside High.

  “Winter, y-you don’t understand. That’s Haze Adams.”

  I frown. “I’m sorry. Your tone implies that I’m supposed to care what his name is?”

  “Not looking at him is like breathing. It’s a habit—I don’t have to think twice about it. No one really knows what—” She pauses and glances around as if she fears someone might be listening. “What stuff Haze is into, but it’s better not to know. You do not want to be Haze Adams’s enemy. He has rules. Don’t talk back, don’t get in his way, and whatever you do, never look him in the eyes.”

  I scoff. “Why? Is he Medusa?”

  She sighs and rolls her eyes. “That’s just the way it is. No one dares to question it.”

  I mentally curse, wondering why she couldn’t just hit me with a quick “Welcome to Riverside High, Winter. Oh, and by the way, never look Haze Adams in the eyes.”

  “It’s like provoking him. I just assumed you knew, even though it’s completely normal that you didn’t. I’m such an idiot,” she says, undeniable sincerity in her eyes.

  “You don’t even know what he does, but you assume he’s dangerous? He’s a high school bully, not God.” I shake my head in disapproval.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Rumor has it Haze is part of something bigger than you could possibly imagine. A street gang of some sort. His family is the most powerful and wealthiest in town, and his father is a big sponsor of the school. Don’t be surprised that Haze’s behavior never gets questioned. You do not want to get in trouble with him, trust me.”

  Eye roll. So much for not finding any students that stink of clichés, huh?

  “What are you saying? What am I supposed to do?” I ask, staring at the now almost empty hall where this crazy guy used to stand.

  “Keep a low profile. Don’t break any of his rules ever again, and do everything you can to make him forget about you.”

  I nod, unable to make sense of this madness. The bell rings, reminding us that the nightmare technically hasn’t begun yet.

  “You’re right. Avoiding him can’t be that hard, can it?” I laugh faintly, trying to convince myself. Here’s one more thing to add to this long list I like to call “Proof the Universe is pulling a joke on me.” Getting the tyrant of my school to hate me on my first day? Check.

&
nbsp; “What could go wrong?” As Kass and I walk to class, I can’t help but wince at my own lies. Seriously, Winter? What could go wrong?

  Everything.

  Everything could go wrong.

  T W O

  The Deal

  “Give it back! Now,” I yell at the overly annoying six foot four of bad jokes I have the misfortune of calling my cousin. Here I am, running after Kendrick as fast as the lack of exercise in my daily life allows me to.

  “You have so many beautiful pictures in there, Winter.” He cracks a laugh, scrolling through the pictures on my phone.

  A week has passed. After the rather traumatizing experience with Mr. Don’t-Look-Me-in-the-Eyes, life went back to its regular course and I became exactly what I was meant to be—the invisible new girl. Although the whispers in the hall followed me for a couple of days, I quickly went back to what I’m good at, which is merging with the walls. I haven’t seen him again. That’s all that matters.

  I had a lot of things planned for my first weekend in Florida. Chasing my arrogant cousin around the house while he scrolls through all of my most embarrassing pictures certainly was not one of these things.

  “Kendrick, stop!” I beg, panting. This will definitely be my cardio for the week.

  Fine, my cardio for the month.

  “Kids, no running,” the familiar voice of my aunt warns in the distance. Kendrick doesn’t stop, purposefully ignoring his mother.

  “Oh Lord. What is that?” He bursts out laughing, then rushes into the kitchen where the delicious smell of my aunt’s famous lasagna awaits us.

  He stops in his tracks, raising his arm up so high it’s impossible for me to reach my phone. “You do realize wearing a foundation ten shades darker than your actual skin tone doesn’t fool us into thinking you have a tan?”

  I wince.

  Well, I sure wish fourteen-year-old me had known that.

  “Kendrick Kingston, give me my phone back before I rip your eyes out,” I threaten, failing to sound even remotely credible.

  “Give her the phone, brother,” Kassidy chuckles as she passes through the kitchen with nothing but a towel tightly wrapped around her body.