Rewriting the Rules Page 2

  The phone call this morning changed all of that.

  Watching her talk about herself with a whiney voice makes me want to jump into a pile of needles. My dick is scared for his life right now and in hiding. Lucky bastard. But now I have to tell him we’re breaking up and that’s going to be hard. My dick loves her pussy. They connect on a wild and sexy level, but there comes a time when a man needs to let go because the sex isn’t that great to put up with the shit I’m dealing with. I see her lips moving and her hands moving. I’m not sure what she’s saying. Her voice is nagging and gives me a headache. When we’re together, it’s necessary to have a glass of alcohol in my hand or else I’d grab a knife and slice my wrist.

  At first, things were great and we got along well. The first year of our relationship, things were on an even keel. We hung out with her friends and mine. We traveled and experienced adventures together. I cared about her deeply and wanted the best for her. She understood what I wanted and never pushed for more. The longer we stayed together the more I noticed subtle changes in her behavior. Things weren’t as carefree like before. I’d come home to find bridal magazines laying around or she’d suggest watching a chick flick and cry when the couple got married. It never occurred to me she wanted more and I never acknowledged those subtle changes. Last Valentine’s Day I bought her a Pandora bracelet with all the charms and it was color coordinated with silver, white, and red. After spending a thousand dollars, I had the bracelet wrapped nicely in a box and placed in a gift bag with tissue paper. A limo drove us to dinner at the Del Monte and when I gave her the bracelet, the look of slight disappointment hit her face. It was quick and I ignored it. I thought I did a great job picking out the charms.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, baby,” she smiles and looks at the new bracelet shining on her wrist. “It’s really beautiful.”

  “You look disappointed.”

  “No,” she reaches for my hand and the smile on her face gets wider. “I love it.”

  Thinking about that night and listening to her talk about Liza’s upcoming wedding, it hits me.

  She wants more.

  During the years, I’ve changed into a hard man with a cold heart. I never used to be like this, but a broken heart will turn you into a bitter asshole. Love’s for idiots. Love’s a sickness, and when people catch the damn disease, it invades their body and mind. You do stupid shit without thinking, and when it’s over, there’s nothing left besides being alone. When you love, you trust, and when you trust, you become vulnerable. They make you feel things, and then out of nowhere leaves without looking back. So who’s the one left broken?

  That euphoric feeling of love and bliss is all lies. By nature, people have motives and will fool you and do anything to make you believe their heart. It’s complex and not worth the time and energy. People say that when the sense of clarity hits your body, and takes your breath away, your life will be better. Who the fuck comes up with that shit? Those are romance words and when it comes to action, no one feels that way. My cold heart doesn’t need or want love. It has had a wall to protect itself for almost four years and it doesn’t plan on letting anyone in.

  “So I have to fly to New York City on Monday for business and I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” she tells me, pulling me back to reality as she’s sipping her glass of white wine and leaning back in the chair.

  “Okay. I hope you have fun.” I didn’t really care one way or another.

  She sighs and places her glass of wine on the table. “Do you want to come with me?”

  “Not this time.” I get up from the table and pour myself a glass of whiskey. I need something stronger if I’m going to continue to have a conversation with her.

  “Why not? You love the city and I thought maybe we could move there?”

  “Why in the hell would I want to move to NYC? I like it here. My friends are here and my business is here.”

  “You can work anywhere and you said it yourself, Rochester can get really boring. We do the same things every year. At least in New York City we’ll have more opportunities to see more and experience more.”

  “Like what?”

  She explains the different activities like Broadway shows, concerts, the parks, shopping on Fifth Ave, and she’ll be closer to her agency.

  “Not what I want, Andrea.”

  “So what are we doing then?”

  I roll my eyes and finish my whiskey in one gulp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is fine and comfortable.”

  “That’s it! It’s comfortable. I want more with you. I want to experience more of this life and grow with you.”

  “You knew what you were getting into when we got together. I didn’t lie or hold anything back from you.” Unlike you, I want to say. Biding my time, I keep my cool and hold back.

  “This,” she extends her arms out and stares me down. “We’ve been together for two years and not once have you told me you loved me, or anything along the lines of a couple ready to start a future.”

  “What?” My tone is harsh and I need to make sure I heard her correctly. “When did you think I wanted more? I don’t think,” I pause for dramatic effect. “Wait, I know I never said that. We’re together, Andrea. That’s it.” She remains silent, and still her eyes are on me. “There’s nothing more about us. I give you everything you want and now you want more.”

  “Nice,” she mutters. “How can I not want more? I love you, Troy, and you don’t ever say it back to me. All this time I thought you needed more time to see how good we are for each other. When we’re out, we have fun and when we’re home, things are good between us. Do you know my parents and friends ask me all the time when we’re getting married?”

  “Married?” I nearly pass out from the word. If I walk into a church, I’ll be burned alive. If the words I do ever come out of my mouth I’ll go ahead and jump off a cliff. The words husband, wife, family, and forever aren’t anywhere near my vocabulary. What the fuck do those words mean? Being twenty-five years old with a successful at-home business, and money to last me for a while, I don’t need someone to attach themselves to me.

  “Okay,” she sighs. “You don’t want to get married?”

  “No. Andrea, how many times do I have to explain myself? You knew what you were getting into when we first met.”

  “So back to my question, what are we doing? We live together and are building somewhat of a life together. Yes, I know you care about me and like me.” I nod while pouring myself another glass of whiskey. “You know I love you and want more, but we’re not on the same page.”

  Falling in love isn’t something I want to experience again. Falling in love leaves you vulnerable. The emotions are too raw and fuck with your control on life. Instead of you being in the driver’s seat, navigating your way through life the way you want, love takes over and makes decisions for you.

  I take a moment to think about what I can say to her so she’ll understand. I’ve been around love and happiness my whole life. My parents have been married for thirty years and to this day, still hold hands and look at each other with admiration. I know how to treat a woman and give her the world. “We’re having fun and we’re comfortable. We live together and are building a life, just not with rings and standing in a church telling our family and friends how we feel. This works, Andrea. I take you out on dates, and lavish you with gifts. We go on expensive trips around the world and I give you space to hang out with your friends. Like I said, this is all I can give you.”

  “I want to grow old with you and spend my life with you,” she wipes her tears and I should feel bad. “I want us to get married and have kids.”

  I don’t.

  “You knew what you were getting into. I told you from the start I didn’t want marriage or that kind of commitment. I’m not sure what else you want me to say. I won’t be changing my mind.”

  “Maybe I thought I’d be the one to change your mind,” she retreats into her hole and finishes h
er glass of wine. “I’m going to bed.” Without another word, she touches my shoulder, kisses my cheek, and walks upstairs.

  Putting away our dishes, I shut off the lights, turn on the alarm system, and head upstairs. Walking into my bedroom, I find Andrea in bed lying on her side, staring at me. My cock blinks his eye then goes back to sleep. He has no interest in a meeting with her pussy.

  “I’m going to be downstairs doing work,” I tell her. “Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Seriously, Troy?” She groans and gets up. I see her naked body walking to the closet and in minutes she’s out, dressed in a short black dress with a bag in her hand. “I’m going out and then crashing at Liza’s house.”

  “Okay.” I should breakup with her now and kick her out of my house. My father taught me how to be a gentleman and as much as I’d love to see the look on her face when I confront her with the truth, I honestly don’t have the energy to deal with the argument.

  She nods and heads out of the bedroom. It’s almost eleven in the evening, and I should be worried my girlfriend is out and about. Only I’m not.

  Heading back downstairs, I grab a glass of whiskey and walk outside to my deck, overlooking the in-ground pool and built-in waterfall. In every aspect of my life I’m in control. I’m in charge of my company that I have with Will, and have found my success because of my hard work, and support from my parents. They didn’t have to bribe Yale to get me in, or pay for a building to get me good grades. As rich as I am with material things, there’s something missing to make me full.

  Sipping on my whiskey, I close my eyes and think about the last few years in Rochester. My booming fitness business is going on three years strong. My clients are not only local, but throughout the nation. I come up with their meal plan, make their food, package it, and ship it. Will does the same, and we are constantly attending conventions to promote our growing business. All of my energy is for my clients and the words fun and relaxing don’t exist. Owning my business means I handle all the issues. I don’t count on anyone else. Will and I meet once a week to talk about our sales, clients, and how else to make our business grow as a team and individually. Our business is successful because we are in control. Everything is about control. When you lose it you might as well kiss everything goodbye. No one can get through life without having a grasp on their life and what they want. You set a goal and you fucking do anything you can to reach your goal. No excuses.

  Finishing my whiskey, I realize how alone I am. It’s nights like these I despise. My mind wanders and plays hide and seek with thoughts I’ve kept buried. It looks for these issues and puts me in a shittier mood than I’ve been in. When I was younger I had my parents or friends around me. Now I keep my circle small. I’ve been screwed over too many times.

  Taking my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my contact list and think about texting Will. He’s most likely home, cooking for clients, and my parents are vacationing in Europe. I have acquaintances, but only a handful of good friends I’ve let into my life. As we get older, it’s not the quantity of friends, but the quality. I don’t give a shit if I sound like a pussy. It’s the truth. When you have a lot of friends, the chances to get screwed over is real.

  The doorbell rings and I look up, wondering who’s at the door. Pushing myself up from the chair outside I head through the kitchen and to the foyer. Reaching over to grab the doorknob, I twist it to open and blink a few times to make sure I’m seeing correctly.

  “Hi, Troy.”

  Chapter 3

  Troy

  Nothing prepares you for when you’re faced with the past. As hard and cold as I am, I’m nearly on my ass when I see her. I blink some more and instead of a twenty-five-year-old man, I’m brought to my eighteen-year-old self and the girl I love is standing before me.

  My dick smiles and wakes up from a dreary nap. Fucking bastard decides now is the best time to be active. Not tonight, buddy. Not tonight. I do my best to think about anything that’ll calm down my raging hard-on.

  She’s really looking at me and a smile comes across her face. It’s the same smile I remember all those years ago. The smile that brings me to my knees and makes everything stop moving. I pause for a moment before saying something to her. The girl standing before me is a ghost from the past. I knew her. She was my first love, until I didn’t know her anymore. She has no idea what she’s doing to me.

  When I don’t smile back she flinches slightly. Watching her closely I see her smile slowly disappearing. The lost expression on her face shows and she nervously shuffles her feet.

  “Troy,” she calls for me again.

  “Come in,” I tell her and watch as she walks in. My eyes go directly to her long blonde hair, curvy body, and beautiful ass. Her legs are toned, and those tanned legs go on for miles. I’m imagining her legs wrapped around my waist while I fuck her until she screams. The dress she has on hugs every delicious curve of her body. Damn, do I want her. “Charlotte.” Saying her name is doing things to my body. I control my feelings and turn on my hardened stare. I remind myself this is the girl who ripped my heart out and took it with her. Feeling sorry for her or happy she’s here isn’t an option.

  Closing the door, I stand before her and notice how much of an adult she looks like now. I also notice the sadness and fear in her eyes. The overwhelming feeling to hold her and comfort her pushes through. Quickly, I bury those feelings and keep a neutral expression on my face.

  Needing to say something, I ask her the first thing that comes to my mind. “Are you hungry?” Her head pops up and she slowly smiles, giving me a nod. Leading her to my kitchen, I pull out a chair for her and take out containers of food. “I have chicken, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  I smile, nod, and prepare her a plate. Staring at the leftovers from dinner, I assume she’ll like it, not necessarily caring what she likes or doesn’t like. Turning to look at her, I see her eyes on me and the emotions on her face. It’s pulling on my conscience, so I push it away. I’m not letting my guard down when it comes to Charlotte.

  Pulling out my phone, I’m about to text Will until I hear her telling me to stop.

  “Please don’t tell my brother,” she asks me.

  “Why? He needs to know you’re here.”

  “I just,” she pauses, covering her face and running her fingers through her long hair. “I just need a few days to let everything sink in. I know I’m here out of the blue, but I need a few days and I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “You’re fine, Charlotte,” I pause and turn around to face her. “I’m not going to kick you out of my house, but I can’t let you stay here and keep this from Will. He should know. He’s your brother. You can’t come to Rochester without an explanation.”

  “I know,” she sighs. Getting up from the chair, she paces the kitchen. “All I can say is that I’m okay and I’m going to be living here now. A lot has been going on and I’ve missed you guys.”

  “Not good enough. The last I heard was that you landed a good job in Michigan.”

  I study her body language and the way she’s staring at me. She looks surprised I knew that little fact about her. Seeing her here, in my house, in my kitchen, is fucking with my head. This isn’t a random situation. She’s here for a reason and it’s a reason I need to find out.

  The promise we made to each other creeps into my head. I remembered her words and how she felt in my arms.

  “We can’t tell Will.”

  “I know,” I assure her, rubbing her arms and pulling her to my body. “I’m not going to pressure you. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re going to be a star on the field and kill each class. I’m going to wait for you and the day you’re ready to tell Will about us then that’s the day I’ll kiss you and love you forever.”

  “I’ll be thinking about that kiss until the time’s right. I promise as soon as I’m done with school we’ll tell him together. He’ll have to see how happy you make me.�
� She lifts her head from my chest and leans to kiss the tip of my nose. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  She was my world until it came shattering down and I was left without her. The broken promise fell through my fingers and there was nothing. That day I vowed never to allow love to be near me. I was going to be happier on my own without her. I knew it was wrong. She was my best friend’s baby sister. I teased her when she was younger, made her cry, and then fell in love. Our friendship took its own course and I never saw it coming-the day we admitted our feelings.

  Will had no idea and to this day still doesn’t know the feelings I hold for her. Our relationship ended before it began. It had to be that way, even if she took a piece of my heart with her, I had to forget her and move on.

  “Once upon a time you used to care and take care of me. Remember?”

  “Once upon a time I would have done anything for you. Things change, Charlotte.”

  “I guess so.” She crosses her arms over her chest and her breasts slightly rise, the swells catching my attention.

  “So how did you know where to find me?”

  “Will sent me your address one Christmas so I could send you a card.”

  “I never got a card from you.”

  “I know,” she responds, still holding her eyes on me. “I didn’t get a chance to send you the cards or letters.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She shrugs and doesn’t respond right away. Her mind is reeling, trying to come up with an excuse, and I can’t figure out what she’ll say.

  “Honestly, I didn’t think it would matter.”

  “I’m not sure why you would have thought that. It would have been nice to hear from you and know how you’re doing. It’s been four years, Charlotte. You can’t pop back into my life and expect me to be okay with this. What happened with Shawn?”

  “I broke up with him.”

  A look of shock plasters on my face. From what I’ve heard, they were on the way to getting married. “I thought you were happy and in love.”