Page 42 of The Rule Breaker (Colton U Playbook #1)

ISABELLA

“ I don’t even know why I bother anymore,” Aurora mutters, tugging the cropped denim jacket tighter around her chest, a shiver running through her despite the biting cold.

She doesn’t seem to care, still rocking that short denim skirt and crop top.

“I swear, if my professor makes me critique one more ‘avant-garde’ painting that’s literally just a blank canvas, I might drop out. ”

I raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as we keep walking toward the party. “Aren’t you supposed to appreciate all forms of art?”

Aurora scoffs, throwing her hands up dramatically.

“Not when it’s complete bullshit.” She keeps walking, her boots clicking on the pavement with every step.

“I spend hours on my stuff. My hands cramp, I get paint in my hair, and then some guy turns in a white canvas with a single red dot in the corner, and suddenly, he’s a genius. ”

I can’t help the snort that escapes me. “You’re kidding.”

She shakes her head. “He didn’t even use paint. It was ketchup.”

My brows knit. “Ketchup?”

“From his fast-food order,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “He said it ‘represents consumerism.’”

I blink a few times, trying to picture it. “And what did the professor say?”

Aurora groans, throwing her head back. “That it was thought-provoking and great social commentary.”

I lose it. Laughter bubbles up uncontrollably. Aurora shoves me lightly, though she’s clearly trying not to laugh too.

“It’s not funny,” she mutters, but the grin she’s fighting to hide tells me otherwise. “You’d be pissed too if you spent three days on a piece just to get the same grade as the Ketchup King.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I think you’re an amazing artist.”

Aurora lets out a long dramatic sigh, slouching against me. “God, why do I even try? The only thing that’s keeping me sane is knowing I’m heading to Westbrook this weekend.”

I glance over at Aurora, catching the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re seeing Zach?”

She nods, her gaze flicking ahead. “Feels like forever,” she murmurs with a sigh. “I wish I could’ve gone to his game last week.”

My fingers curl slightly around the strap of my bag, and a quiet kind of pride settles in my chest. I’m still riding the high from that game.

The guys actually listened to my advice, my dad stayed out of the way, and for once, I wasn’t just the coach’s daughter on the sidelines.

I was the one calling the plays. Tweaking strategies.

Watching them execute what I’d drawn up.

And it worked. We won.

“Anyway. Enough about me,” she says waving a hand. “Let’s talk about you and Ryan.”

“Oh god,” I groan, already bracing for her questions.

“Still hooking up with him?”

I exhale. “Yes.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “And?”

I glance at her, lifting a shoulder. “We’re just having fun.”

Aurora narrows her eyes. “Really?”

“Mhmm.”

She lets out a slow, knowing hum. Ugh, I hate when she does that. She's always been way too good at reading me before I even have a chance to lie.

She shoots me a sideways look, eyebrow raised. “So, if he, I don’t know, hooked up with someone else tonight… that wouldn’t bother you?”

My head jerks toward her before I can stop it.

“Oh my god,” she stops dead in her tracks, a grin splitting her face wide open. “You like him.”

“Shut up.”

“You didn’t even try to deny it.”

“It was a stupid question.”

“Isa.” She halts and pulls me to a stop with her. “Just be honest. Do you like him?”

I could lie. Say no and move on. Keep pretending I don’t have feelings for him. That Ryan’s just a distraction.

But I let out a long sigh, knowing there's no point in lying to her. “Maybe.”

Aurora’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

I roll my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t do relationships.”

She raises a brow. “And you don’t do casual.”

“Exactly.” My voice comes out tighter than I mean it to. “I thought I could handle it, but…”

My throat tightens. I don’t finish the sentence.

She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Then be real about it. If you can’t do casual, you need to tell him before you get hurt.”

I let out a harsh breath.

Yeah. I hate that she’s right.

After Austin caught us. Ryan snuck over to my room later that night, and we talked.

About everything. His family, mine, school, what we wanted for our futures We only fell asleep at five in the morning.

It didn’t feel like just casual fun, it felt real, like we were actually connecting.

And for a second, I convinced myself that maybe he felt the same, that he’d changed his mind about relationships and was willing to give one a try… with me.

But when I woke up, he wasn’t in my bed. He’d slipped away before I even opened my eyes, back to his room.

He told me from the beginning what this was—nothing more than fun. And I’m just fooling myself in thinking it’s anything else.

We turn the corner, and the bar finally comes into view. There’s a line already, people packed along the sidewalk, their breath fogging in the cold.

Aurora glances at me. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

I exhale slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you better figure it out,” she replies, flashing a flirty smile at the bouncer. He glances at our fake IDs before waving us through.

The heat hits us as soon as we walk inside. Sweat, cheap drinks, cheap cologne.

My eyes scan the crowd, and I pause when I see him.

Ryan’s over by the pool table, with a drink in his hand, and that stupid easy grin on his face. He’s surrounded by a group of girls hanging onto every word he says. One has her hand on his arm. Another’s leaning in way too close. They all look perfect. And the worst part?

He doesn’t seem to care.

My stomach twists.

And I hate that it does.

It’s stupid. I knew this wasn’t serious. Told myself a hundred times. It’s just fun. No strings. But still…

An ache creeps up my chest, and I can feel Aurora watching me, but I can’t drag my eyes away from him.

The idea of seeing him with someone else?

It was hypothetical. A question. A test.

But this is real. This is happening right in front of me.

I have no right to be upset. None. But that doesn’t stop the sharp, sour feeling clawing its way up my throat.

Aurora follows my gaze and lets out a low whistle. “Yikes.”

I don’t answer. I don’t need to.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice softening.

I nod, even though the answer is definitely no. Not even a little bit.

She studies me for a second like she’s trying to decide if I’m lying. I am. “Do you want to leave?” she asks, placing her hand on my arm.

Yes .

I want to leave. I want to pretend I didn’t see any of it, that it doesn’t matter, that I’m not currently doing everything in my power not to launch a pool cue across the room.

But instead, I shake my head. “No. Let’s get a drink.”

She doesn’t push. Just leads the way, slipping through the crowd. I follow close behind, my eyes fixed on anything but him.

We make it to the bar, and Aurora slides right into a stool, ordering us a drink. I wrap my fingers around the glass, when the bartender places it in front of us, and take a long sip.

The burn helps. Sort of.

I steal a glance, even though everything in my body tells me not to, and the moment I turn my head, I see Ryan watching me.

His smirk widens a little, and my stomach dips like an idiot.

I should look away. Pretend I wasn’t watching him with five girls all over him. Pretend I don’t care.

But I don’t. I keep looking at him.

He says something to the girl in front of him. She says something back, flashing a smile at him, but his attention isn’t on her anymore. It’s on me.

My heart kicks into overdrive as he walks toward me, pushing past people before he stops in front of me.

His eyes scan my face, his expression faltering when I don’t say anything. “You’re quiet.”

I lift a shoulder, shifting my weight. “Not much to say.”

It’s a lie. I have too much to say. All of it stuck in my throat.

Ryan doesn’t respond right away. He just watches me, his head tilting slightly.

I spin around, but before I can, his fingers slide into mine.

“Ryan—”

“Come with me.” His hand tightens slightly around mine, but he doesn’t tug, just waits—giving me the choice.

I pause, my heart hammering in my chest with every second his eyes are on me. I should say no. But my feet are already moving.

He weaves us through the crowd. The music fades as we move toward the back, neon lights flickering overhead, casting him in blue and red and gold.

And then he pulls us into a bathroom and shuts the door behind us.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. The only sound is the dull bass bleeding through the walls and the buzzing in my ears.

Ryan drops my hand and turns to lean back against the sink.

I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t look at the way his sleeves are pushed up, revealing the kind of forearms that should be illegal. I don’t look at the way his jeans sit just right on his hips.

I don’t.

Except I do.

And when I meet his eyes again, I know he noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, keeping his eyes on me.

“Nothing,” I reply, avoiding my gaze. Because if I keep looking at him—at those stupid eyes, and that even stupider jawline—I’ll forget that I’m mad.

I’m supposed to be walking away, not letting him back me into a dimly lit room like I’m his. Like we’re something.

Ryan lets out a slow breath and rakes a hand through his hair. “C’mon, Bels. Tell me why you’re not looking at me.”

“I can’t do this,” I blurt out.

Ryan’s brows furrow, confusion flashing across his face. “What?”

My chest tightens, the words sitting heavy in my throat, but I manage to force them out. “I… I want to end this.”