Forgotten Rules: A Brother's Best Friend Romance Page 2

  Morgan dies laughing at her own joke, and I inevitably follow. That’s Morgan James for you. Morgan’s the girl with the laugh that’s funnier than the joke, that bookworm friend who’s never seen a penis in her life but loves giving dating advice. When she isn’t crying over fictional characters, you can find her avoiding people.

  “Stop!” Zoey whines, concealing her face with perfectly manicured hands. “Don’t talk shit about him. I still love him.”

  “What happened?” I sit down.

  “He said he needed air.” She flings her arms up. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? Is he under-fucking-water?”

  Morgan bites back a laugh, earning a scowl from Zoey. She can’t bring herself to take Zoey’s drama seriously anymore, and I can’t even blame her: it’s a weekly thing at this point.

  “Zoey, with everything that’s happened, did you ever think that maybe… this is a good thing? I mean, the guy cheated on you,” I remind her.

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “We were on a break!”

  Ross, get out of here.

  “Were you though?” Morgan winces. “He said you were over, had sex with some girl at a party, then came back the next morning saying he changed his mind. I mean, I’m no dating expert and all, but that’s pretty fucked-up.” Morgan throws another popcorn into the air, opens her mouth, and misses again.

  “He was just confused. And I don’t blame him for that. He made a mistake. Love is about forgiveness.”

  Vomit.

  “I’m serious.” Zoey blows her nose into a tissue. “It’s been three days and he hasn’t called. I think we’re really done this time.”

  She says that every time—every single time. And they always get back together. To Morgan’s and my great disapproval.

  Everybody hates Sean.

  Pretty sure even Sean’s mother hates Sean.

  The guy is despicable, more concerned with the number of cars in his garage than the number of hearts he tramples. He just loves taking advantage of Zoey and her obsession with dating a college boy. Although I have to say she does have a part to play in the way her conquests treat her. She always goes for the lost causes.

  Like her obsession with Haze Adams, the school’s ultimate player, a while back. Man, she just couldn’t let this one go. Allergic to commitment, Haze made it clear he just wanted sex from the start, and initially Zoey agreed. Until she slept with him, got attached, and showed up at his house in tears the next day. They went back and forth like this for months.

  Haze had the money, the popularity, and, I have no choice but to admit… the looks. This resulted in him scoring spot number one on Zoey’s to-have list. She wanted to be his girlfriend so bad. More so she could say she managed to tame the unredeemable bad boy than to actually be with him.

  Too bad the dude doesn’t have the ability to love.

  “Wait, weren’t you supposed to bring that cousin of yours along?” Zoey realizes.

  I scoop a handful of popcorn. “Yep. Told her I was spending the day with my heartbroken friend in her snotty apartment, and she decided she’d rather hang out with Kendrick. Shocker.”

  Morgan chuckles. “What’s her name again?”

  “Winter.”

  Interest gleams in Zoey’s eyes. “Speaking of, how is your brother?”

  Oh hell to the no.

  I narrow my eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What?” She blinks at me.

  “Nope. None of that innocent shit. I know you. Don’t use my brother as a rebound.”

  “I won’t.” She feigns confusion. “I was just wondering. Haven’t seen him in a while. Jeez.”

  My shoulders deflate with relief.

  It’s taken all I have to keep her paws off Kendrick back when she was single. Same went for him. At least when she was with Sean, I had peace of mind. These two together would be a freaking disaster.

  “What are we watching?” I grab the remote.

  “I changed my mind. Nothing that has to do with this monstrosity they call love,” Zoey says, and I sneer.

  “I’ll drink to that.” Morgan sips on her water—because alcohol has never touched that girl’s lips in her eighteen years of life. That would require her choosing a night out over a good book at least once.

  My thoughts dart to my tasks for the upcoming day. I’m supposed to go job hunting, been planning it for a while now. Even printed out my résumés three weeks ahead of time.

  Morgan agreed to come with me despite her already having a gig tutoring a few kids from school. Zoey will meet us back at my house when we’re done to binge our favorite shows the way we do every Sunday night.

  We spend the rest of the evening vegetating on Zoey’s couch, commenting on the teen movie—which does contain romance despite our best efforts—while I try not to prove my brother right by meticulously planning my Sunday down to the last second.

  Waking up has always been the worst part of my day. Like it’s not bad enough that we’re going to spend one third of our lives drooling on a pillow, we have to feel like shit most mornings, too. Why can’t we just wake up with great hair and endless energy? Also, I need to have a chat with the people making movies where the girl wakes up with a full face of makeup.

  Dragging my feet down the stairs, I wrestle with the last wavy strand of my blonde hair. I must’ve gone over the stubborn piece with the straightener a million times—Nope, it won’t budge. I eventually had to admit defeat not to be late, but I know it’s going to bug me for the rest of the day.

  I pluck my phone out of my pocket, scolding myself for sleeping in. It’s past nine. I usually get up at seven during the weekend and six during the week. If I wake up any later, I feel awful about wasting my day.

  Padding into the kitchen, I try tricking my brain into positive thinking: I will get a job. Everything will work out. I can do this. I have bills to pay. Get a car, they said. You’ll be independent, they said. Little did I know that shit could break without a warning and cost hundreds to fix when I barely have twenty dollars to my name.

  The car cost me all I had, and I refuse to take the bus until graduation. Nuh-huh. Over my dead body. Not when I spent the summer working my ass off at summer camp with grouchy, screaming kids for it.

  “Morning, sweetie.” Mom walks into the room, tucking a long-sleeve white shirt into blue jeans. Her hair and makeup are done. Wait… is she wearing a bra? You’d have to pay my mom to wear a bra on her day off.

  “You going somewhere?” I pour myself a cup of coffee.

  “Taking your cousin shopping for her first day in school.” Excitement radiates off her.

  Winter ambles into the kitchen next, her long brown hair sprawled over one shoulder and reaching her belly button. Still in her pajamas, she smiles at my mom and mouths, “Save me,” when we lock eyes.

  I swallow a laugh. My cousin’s always hated shopping. She loves her leggings and comfy T-shirts more than should be allowed. Don’t get me wrong, she isn’t a tomboy. Just a very simple girl. She barely wears any makeup—not that she needs it—and looks so unrecognizable when she does you could accidentally file a missing-person report on her ass.

  “It’s not my first day in school, Aunt Maria. I’m a senior, remember?” Winter picks an apple from the fruit bowl and pours herself a glass of juice.

  “I know. But it’s your first day in school here. You need lighter clothes. Come on, let me treat you.”

  A forced smile stretches Winter’s lips. My mom’s phone rings, and she exits the room to take the call.

  Winter sits around the table. “Is your day going better than mine?”

  “Not exactly. I’m going job hunting today.”

  “Fun.” She grimaces. “Got anything in mind?”

  “There’s a convenience store five minutes from here. Last I heard they were looking.” I fill the seat next to her, setting my coffee down.

  She nods. “I’m sure you’ll get it.”

  “I hope so. I don’t know how much longer I
can ignore the lights on my dashboard.”

  Before my cousin can reply, a shirtless Kendrick breezes into the room, backpack dangling off his shoulder.

  “What’s up, ladies?” He tosses his backpack on the table, making a beeline for the fridge. His half-opened bag catches my eye. I sneak a hand inside and pull out the assignment on top.

  An English paper.

  C-

  “Not your grades, that’s for sure,” I point out, and Winter stifles a laugh. Kendrick seriously needs to get his shit together. Between the fights and school, he doesn’t study nearly as much as he should. Having a mean right hook won’t get him into college. Irritated, he speed walks to me, snatching the paper out of my hands.

  “Mom should’ve swallowed you.” He shoves the essay back inside his bag.

  “Aw, love you, too, bro.” I lift a palm to my chest.

  “So, sis, how much time did you spend making your mental to-do list last night? Like six hours out of eight?” he taunts.

  I want to oppose but press my lips together in defeat. He’s right. I did do a mental list last night. Fell asleep way too late because of it.

  I don’t miss a beat. “I’d rather count the things I have to do than the girls I did.”

  Winter chokes on her apple.

  If she thinks my brother not saving himself for marriage is choke-worthy news, she’s in for the months of her life. Last time she was here, Kendrick had just started dating his first girlfriend, Nicole. Don’t think they’d even made it past first base yet. Then shit hit the fan, leading to a nasty breakup, a parade of rebound girls, and, ultimately, my brother’s transformation into a world-class fuck boy.

  “Is it always like this with you two?” Winter asks.

  “Yep. Should’ve thought twice before leaving the beavers, cous.” Kendrick pours cereal into a bowl, bracing himself against the kitchen island as he eats.

  Winter raises an eyebrow, shooting him a look that says “Sure, it’s not like my parents enrolled me into a new school in the middle of my senior year against my will or anything.”

  She settles for, “Whatever you say, Kendick.”

  His head snaps up.

  “What’d you just call me?”

  I smile at their bickering. Kendick is a nickname we came up with when we were kids. Winter mispronounced his name once, and it just stuck.

  Does Kendrick hate it? Oh yeah.

  Do we care? Absolutely not.

  “Hey, show-off! Morgan is going to be here any minute. Put some clothes on.” I gesture to my brother’s bare chest. This is becoming a bad habit of his. He’s turned into an exhibitionist since he’s started working out obsessively for his stupid fights.

  He scoffs. “Please, we both know seeing me shirtless is the most action Miss Goody Two-shoes could ever get.”

  Harsh.

  But not entirely false.

  Morgan’s a self-proclaimed boy-repellant. She’s never been kissed or asked out on date. Whenever I bring it up, she says the hotties in her books love her and it’s all she needs, but I know it bothers her.

  Weirdest part is, Morgan James is far from a troll. With her cute, hipster glasses, full lips, hazel eyes, long strawberry blonde hair, and oversized sweaters, she’s every teenage boy’s sexy nerd fantasy. Problem is, she’s shy and a bit awkward—okay, a lot awkward. She gets so nervous around the male population her language skills revert back to those of a fetus.

  “I’m going to get dressed.” Winter jolts up, throws her apple core away, and hastens out of the kitchen. The second her footsteps fade down the halls, my brother ruins my mood.

  “Oh, and I need the TV tonight. The guys are coming over.”

  “What?” I sit up straight. “But I already invited the girls. Why can’t you just hang out somewhere else for once?”

  He shrugs. “Sorry. No can do. It’s game night.”

  “But—”

  “You and your friends can just hang with us. I mean, I definitely don’t have a problem with Zoey staying.” He offers me a smug grin, trailing to the sink to wash his dishes and sort them away.

  Fuming, I consider my options. A, stay holed up in my room with the girls all night, or B, watch a football game with my ex-boyfriend and my brother’s brain-dead friends.

  I’d rather die, thanks.

  Kendrick’s locked himself into the bathroom before I can argue.

  “This isn’t over.” I belt.

  I get a text from Morgan seconds before I go apeshit on the bathroom door.

  Morgan: Be there in five.

  Stomping toward my house with Morgan on my heels, I reprimand myself for not listening to my mom when she said you can never go wrong working retail. Unimpressed managers’ faces burn in the back of my mind. Turns out summer camps and babysitting aren’t worth much to the employers I met today.

  Overall, this has been a long and, I’m sure of it, useless day. Looks like the check engine light will have to stay on my dashboard a little longer.

  “I’m sure you’ll get it.” Morgan nudges me with her elbow as we walk. “They looked interested. They’ll call you.”

  I smile at her weak attempt at making me feel better. “No, they won’t. They weren’t taking me seriously, I could tell.”

  Unlocking and opening the door, I lob my keys onto the kitchen table. Winter and my mom are still out and probably will be until later tonight. My mom texted me they went to the movies.

  It comes back to me.

  Kendrick invited the guys over tonight.

  But his car isn’t in the driveway.

  Victory expands in my chest.

  First come, first served.

  Better to watch a show on a flat-screen TV than a crappy laptop if you ask me. Shit, I really hope Blake won’t be there. I haven’t even looked at him since we broke up. Truth be told, I didn’t feel the same way about him either, and I’d be lying if I said his dumping me came as a surprise, but it still stung. It’s not that I love him.

  I think it’s mostly that he doesn’t love me.

  Having someone ditch you overnight results in wondering what changed for them to lose interest. It bruised my self-esteem, pushed me to question myself. I once heard my dad say to Uncle Harry he thought relationships were basically watching someone slowly lose interest in you.

  And he was right, wasn’t he?

  That’s what happened between him and Mom.

  “I’ll make the popcorn,” I tell Morgan, who nods and makes a run for the living room, way too many snacks huddled up in her arms. I hear her turn on the TV and launch herself onto the couch.

  Minutes later, I’m resting the popcorn bowl on the low table and leaping next to her. We’ve just started arguing on what to watch when the front door swings open.

  I stop breathing.

  Please don’t be Blake.

  Relief rolls over me at Zoey’s signature tune: heels ruining my mother’s hardwood floor.

  “Where you at, bitches?” she calls.

  “Where we always are. The couch,” Morgan hollers.

  Zoey smothers a chuckle, making her superstar entrance. My gaze travels up her outfit. Her straightened black hair flows down her shoulders, completing her killer outfit: purple top, tight skirt, high heels. Zoey’s gorgeous. There’s no denying it.

  She’s also in excellent shape from doing extreme hot yoga every single day—I tried once and thought I was going to die in a puddle of my own sweat. Zoey’s also that friend who can engulf the entire menu at McDonald’s and still be a size zero. I assess her flashy attire, then my gray sweatpants and tank top, then Morgan’s oversized hoodie and leggings.

  Yup. We look homeless.

  “That’s your outfit for movie night?” Morgan beats me to it.

  Zoey cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah. Problem?”

  “Can you even sit in that thing?” I chortle.

  “Sure I can.” She does just that, wedging herself between Morgan and me with apparent difficulty. Then she point-blank betrays herself. “So
… Where are your brother and his boys?”

  Ah.

  That’s why.

  Girl, this isn’t your “movie night” outfit.

  This is your “get with Kass’s brother” outfit.

  “Not here yet,” I reply. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her they’d be here tonight.

  Morgan puts the pieces together. “Wait, does that mean… Blake is going to be there?”

  I give a faint nod.

  “And have you talked to him since…”

  “Not really. I mean, I’ve texted him. Four words. ‘Come get your shit.’ I had a box full of his crap in my room.”

  “And did he? Come get his stuff?” Morgan asks.

  I shrug. “No. Never even replied. I threw it out.”

  “You know what you need?” Zoey chimes in, grabbing a handful of Jolly Ranchers right out of the bag. “A rebound.” Her eyes light up as if a stroke of genius just hit her, and she shrieks, “No, no! You need to hook up with one of his friends.”

  I almost laugh. Me? Dealing with men again after what just happened? What is she on?

  “I’m good. I don’t see Alex like that.” I cuddle up to the fluffy pillow next to me.

  Zoey rolls her eyes. “Not him, dumbass. Hottie Blondie.”

  I crinkle my nose at the nickname Zoey likes to give Will, Kendrick’s real best friend—my brother would deny it with his last breath if you asked, but we all know Will is his ride or die. Blake is a close second.

  “Will?” I snort. “You can’t be serious. Dude flirts with the entire planet. I don’t even think it’s possible to be special to him.”

  “So? I’m not telling you to marry the guy. Just have some fun.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “I’m sure it would drive Blake crazy.”

  “Which would be a good thing if I gave a crap what Blake thinks. I just want to move on.”

  “Fine.” She throws a cherry Jolly Rancher into her mouth. “But you have to admit, Will is hot.”

  I catch myself picturing him. Jaw as sharp as a knife, toned body from working out five days a week with the guys, deep ocean-blue eyes, dirty-blond hair. I’m not blind. Objectively, Will is way up there in the looks department, but I’ve never seen him that way. Was too busy being annoyed by his existence.