Page 49 of Unwritten Rules (Rules 1)

“Come on, take a chance.”

His insistent gaze refuses to leave me. I feel his eyes piercing through my skull. I can’t go. It would be wrong. This is Haze Adams, the guy who started this whole mess by making the deal. My mind screams no.

But my body isn’t listening.

“Give me that,” I sigh, and he smiles victoriously when I put on the helmet.

There’s something about him that makes it hard to say no.

That could be the title of a movie about teenage pregnancy.

I mentally laugh at my own joke and realize if people could read my mind, they’d probably think I’m crazy.

For the first time, I’m not following him by obligation. I have no excuse. But I tell myself that maybe I’ll get him to cancel the fight. That if I get closer, we might avoid all of this. In that moment, as much as I hate to admit it, I want to follow him.

It’s all me.

“You want to get to know me? Fine.”

I don’t reply and hold on to him.

“Just remember you asked for it.”

E I G H T

Rooftop And Confessions

“I can’t believe I’m trusting you right now.” My words come out in a whisper.

We’ve been on the road for a good twenty minutes. I try and gather as much information as I possibly can to at least get a small idea as to where we’re going, but the truth is, I’ve never been in this part of town before. A quick glimpse of my surroundings is all it takes. I only have one word to say: wealthy. Everywhere I look, there are tall edifices with ceiling-high windows and rich families flaunting their gated houses with high fences.

Haze turns right, revealing an old washed-out building in the distance. The architecture and design give away that it’s a school. To say it stands out from the perfectly mowed lawns and brand-new cars would be an understatement. It’s quite obvious that it was abandoned many years ago. The closer we get, the less apparent it becomes that we’re in a rich-kid neighborhood. The houses downgrade by the second as middle-class vibes find their way back to me.

“Let me guess, this is where we’re going.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Is this the part I realize I followed a murderer?” I force a laugh, analyzing the edifice hovering in front of us.

There’s something familiar about it.

“I already told you. I’m going to need you alive for when I win the fight.”

I roll my eyes.

“Oh and for the thank-you kiss you owe me.”

“I already told you, that’s not happening.”

“We’ll see about that.” The confidence oozing off him makes me blush.

“Where the hell are we?”

“My favorite place in the world.”

The rumble of the engine wears away as the motorcycle comes to a stop near the creepy building. When I look up, all of my interrogations are drawn to a close.

The color and neat look of the bricks on the left side of the school bring it all back. They’re new. Or at least, less old.