Page 107 of Unspoken Rules (Rules 2)

Disappointment runs through me. Even after what happened, I hoped it would be Haze. I hoped he’d be the one following me.

“I’m fine. Go back

inside. I just need a second.” I turn my face to conceal my teary eyes.

“Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. I want to help.”

“Ryder, I mean it, go back inside.”

He doesn’t listen, sitting down next to me.

“I’m not leaving. I saw what happened. He sucks. He doesn’t deserve you.”

I take in his concerned features. He’s worried. That’s nice of him, but I truly wish he’d leave me alone. What part of “Go back inside” doesn’t he get?

“Winter…” He clears his throat. “I know we might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but me trying to kiss you at the pub, it wasn’t…” He searches for words. “It wasn’t a part of Kendrick’s plan. It was real. I like you.”

Awesome.

And the award for the world’s worst timing goes to Ryder.

“I’m way too broken to like anyone like that again, I’m sorry.” I try and reject him in the nicest way possible.

“It’s okay. I can wait. I can fix you. I can fix what he broke.”

When he tries to take my hand, my bullshit meter explodes. I reach a limit I knew was coming for a while. I can’t take any more. I’ve been through so much recently. I am not adding awkward unrequited love to the list.

“I can’t do this right now. Listen, I’m flattered, I really am. But you and I… it’s not happening,” I say and get up.

Something snaps in his eyes.

Something I’ve never seen before.

I start to walk away, but he jolts up, wraps his hand around my wrist, and forces me back to him.

What the hell?

“What are you doing? Let go,” I warn.

He doesn’t budge.

“Every time. Every single fucking time.” He raises his voice, obviously trapped in his own head. “It’s always the same thing, isn’t it? You’re never going to change.”

“What are you talking about?” I glance around the backyard in the desperate hope of capturing someone’s attention. No one’s looking our way. We’re in an isolated spot, and the music’s so loud they probably can’t hear a thing.

“What’s the thing with girls and assholes, huh? Please enlighten me. What’s so attractive about heartless pieces of shit? It’s like you enjoy being treated poorly. Why does the nice guy always finish last?”

Fear cripples me.

Ryder obviously has a lot more issues than he lets on. For a second there, I thought he was too squeaky clean and damage-free to be involved in street fighting. Now, I know. The guy’s got problems. Like they all do.

I’m reminded of the words he said to me at the restaurant when a gorgeous girl showed interest in him and he said he had a very specific type. What is his type? The challenge? The broken girl? The one who already loves someone else? The one he can’t have? All of the above? I try to get out of his grasp, but he tightens his hold around me. I wince in pain.

“Ryder, you’re hurting me. Let go!” My shouting seems to pull him out of whatever anger trance he was stuck in. I see it in his eyes. The realization, the regrets. He’s going to let me go. But he’s too late.

“Get your fucking hands off her!”

Someone does it for him.