Page 31 of Unwritten Rules (The Sunburnt Hearts #1)
Chapter Thirteen
TATUM
R aya stumbles onto the street with Khai’s arm hanging around her shoulders, wobbly legs barely able to keep him up. Khai certainly wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to get legless tonight. I had thought it was a saying, but apparently, he took the word literally.
“God, you’re heavy,” Raya huffs as she hoists a giggling Khai higher. One wrong move and he’ll tumble from her barely tight grip. “What the hell do you eat?”
“Meat. Lots of it,” Khai mumbles, eyelids dropping. He presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek, and Raya scowls at him. “Thank you for looking after me, RayRay. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles, tightening her grip around his back as she makes a move for the black SUV sitting idle on the curb. “You owe me big time, Khai.”
Khai grins as she swings the door open and guides his lethargic body into the back seat. “Anything for you.”
With a sigh, Raya closes the door and turns to face me on the sidewalk, with a quiet Sinnett standing to my right. “Are you sure you don’t want to get in this Uber with us? I’m sure the driver won’t mind making a detour on the way.”
I shake my head and wrap my arms around my waist, fighting off the chill from the cool evening air.
It’s nearly one in the morning, and now I’m regretting my choice not to bring a jacket with me.
Dad told me I would need one, but I brushed him off as I raced out the door.
Now I’m starting to wish I had listened to him.
“I’ll be okay. My house is a twenty-minute walk from here, so it’ll be fine.”
“You’re walking?” Sinnett’s deep voice sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Like hell you are.”
“Sinnett…”
“No,” he bites out, shoving his hands in the pockets of the black leather jacket hugging his frame. “I’ll walk you home.”
Warmth spreads across my cheeks. “Oh, you don’t have to?—”
“It wasn’t a question, Tate.” Sinnett turns to Raya and nods. “Get Khai home safely, Ray. He keeps the keys to the apartment in his right pocket.”
Raya drags her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows creasing as if wanting to say something. But she doesn’t. Instead, she nods and steps toward the passenger door. “Got it. Make sure you get this one home safely, okay? And behave yourself.”
Choosing to ignore her last comment, I wave at her. “Night, Ray. Thanks for inviting me out tonight.”
“It was fun.” She smiles and points toward a passed out Khai in the backseat. “Some of us had more fun than others, though.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I direct the question to Sinnett.
“He’ll be fine,” he responds with a shrug. “Not the first time he’s gotten shit-faced and it certainly won’t be the last.”
“Well, either way, it was still fun.” If you take out almost getting roofied , I want to say, but swallow the words instead. I’d prefer to forget about the showdown between Sinnett and those guys, and what could’ve happened had he not been there. “Get home safely, Ray. Make sure you text me.”
Raya swings open the door, the Uber driver patiently waiting in the front seat. “Same goes for you, okay?”
I smile. “Of course.”
Sinnett and I stand in silence, shoulders barely brushing as we watch the SUV pull away from the curb, tail lights disappearing in the distance. A chill washes over me, and I’m helpless to fight the shudder. I need to get home quickly before my teeth start chattering.
“Here.” Sinnett steps to the side and shrugs off his leather jacket.
My eyes round as I lock my attention on the rippling muscles of his biceps. Good lord . “Sinnett, no. I’m okay, really.”
He doesn’t say a word as he steps into my space and drapes the large jacket over my shoulders, the material swallowing my frame. His woodsy cologne clings to the material, and I fight the urge to inhale deeply.
“Sinnett, I’m okay, I promise.”
Sinnett steps back and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. A grey-washed Guns N Roses T-shirt clings to every hard ridge and curve of his torso, not leaving much to the imagination. Not that I have to think too hard when I’ve seen what’s hidden beneath the thin material.
“Tate, I can clearly see you’re cold, and with a twenty-minute walk ahead of us, I’d prefer you stay warm.”
“What about you?” I squeeze out, throat tight as I relish in the warmth spreading across my arms.
Sinnett shrugs. “I’ll be fine. The walk will keep me warm.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and nod.
Silence settles over us as we walk side by side in the direction of my house.
Groups of drunk partygoers litter the streets, their high-pitched laughter and slurred speech echoing down the street after us.
It isn’t until we’re a block away does the nightlife of North Sydney fade into the background, leaving space for my elevated heart rate to pound at the base of my throat.
Our footsteps set my nerves on edge further, and I rack my brain for something to say.
But when I come up empty, I heave a sigh and shove my hands into the pockets of the leather jacket Sinnett all but forced me to take—which I’m grateful for now because it’s getting colder by the second—and focus my attention on the footpath.
“Are you okay?”
Sinnett’s deep voice catches me off guard, and I jump like an alley cat. Heart beating rapidly against my ribcage, I snap my head to the left, gaze sweeping over his side profile—all sharp jaw and smooth skin. Piercing blue eyes meet mine, and I struggle to force air into my lungs.
“W-what?”
“I asked if you’re okay,” he repeats, shifting his focus to the footpath shrouded by bursts of light from the streetlamps. “I mean, after everything that happened tonight…”
“Sinnett, please,” I rasp out, throat tight as the memories from earlier tonight slam back into me. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“We do,” he grits, muscles tensing beneath the thin material of the band T-shirt. “We absolutely do, Tate. That fucker tried to hurt you, and if I hadn’t seen him slip that pill into your drink—” He shoves a hand through his messy hair, tugging at the roots. “Tonight could’ve ended badly.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, swallowing hard. I shift my focus to the empty suburban street. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Sinnett doesn’t owe me a thing just because we had a one-night stand and now work together.
If he wanted to, he could’ve given me the cold shoulder on my first day, and we would’ve never spoken again unless absolutely necessary.
But he didn’t, despite my initial thought that he would.
And now we’ve found ourselves in this strange position where we have shared an intimate moment and don’t know what to do from here.
At the end of the day, my father’s warning to the team about staying away from me still stands, and no one in their right mind would go against their head coach. Sinnett’s career hangs in the balance; it rides on him sticking to the rules and keeping his head in the game.
“I’m not going to sit back and allow some low-life to hurt women like that.
He’s lucky I need to think about my career, otherwise, I don’t think I would’ve held back as much as I did.
” His eyes pierce the side of my face, and I fight the urge to meet them.
“I would never let someone hurt you, strawberry.”
My stomach flip flops at the meaning behind his words.
God , what is this man doing to me? I can’t get a grip on my damn heart, much less my mind. I’m in a confused state where I know I need to keep him at arm’s length, but also want to get closer to him so I can unravel what goes on in that complicated mind of his.
“Well, thank you,” I murmur.
Silence settles over us, the seconds ticking by slowly.
We’ve been walking for not even five minutes, and knowing what I do about Sinnett, I’m not sure he would be down for much small-talk.
With an urge to fill the silence and distract my mind from thinking about the man beside me, I reach into my handbag and retrieve the corded earphones, tangled in a haphazard ball.
I push one of the buds into my right ear and offer the left one to Sinnett. “Do you want to listen to some music with me? It’ll make the long walk go quicker.”
Sinnett eyes the bud before looking at me. His jaw clenches, chest heaving as if fighting the urge to say something. But ultimately, he doesn’t. He silently accepts the bud and slips it into his ear before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans again.
My heart thunders in my chest as I scroll through my music catalogue.
When Sinnett drove me home after the game on Thursday, I learned that while he listens to music, he doesn’t necessarily connect with it.
So, on a mission to make his hard exterior feel something from lyrics, I tap on one of my favourite songs.
The Calling’s “Wherever You Will Go” sounds through the earphones, the opening notes settling the tension in my bones. I nod along to the beat.
Sinnett stays silent as we walk, the song carrying our footsteps in the direction of my house.
As each second ticks by, I relax a little more in Sinnett’s presence.
Hell, he even nods along to the song. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he’s heard it before, but not wanting to ruin the moment, I let the song trickle into the opening notes of “3AM” by Matchbox Twenty.
My shoulder brushes against Sinnett’s tattooed arm, the contact sending a jolt of electricity down my spine.
The designs are hidden in the shadows of the night, but the wolf head sticks out to me even in the darkness, the lines detailed and deliberate.
My fingers itch to trace the curves of the body, but knowing that would be a bad idea, I flex them in the pocket of the jacket and keep my eyes trained ahead.
“I like this one,” Sinnett comments when we’re five minutes from my house.
Trying to not sound surprised by his admission, I keep my voice even as I ask, “You do?”
He nods. “It’s catchy.”
“And the lyrics?”