Breaking The Rules

Chapter 9

Booker did, in fact, get shotgun.

Which meant I was sitting in the backseat with Easton. Celeste sandwiched in-between us. This was the closest I'd been to our new housemate since she had moved in.

And I hated every minute of it.

The warm aroma that wafted from Celeste's hair reminded me of marshmallows. All too sweet and sugary. I shifted in my seat. There was no way I could get any closer to the door unless it swallowed me whole, but that didn't stop me from trying.

Clearly, I wasn't the only one uncomfortable. Celeste's fingers fumbled around each other as she pressed small circles into her thumb. Her posture, while not that of most college students who were hunched at a computer most days, was arrow straight. She was tense and that idea alone had me raising an eyebrow.

How fucked up was their breakup that she couldn't even stomach being alone with this guy? Whatever happened, this whole situation was yet another reminder how relationships were more trouble than they were worth.

"This the place?" Hendrix asked as his truck came to a stop on the side of the road.

The trip hadn't been long. A short trek into an older subdivision that had me thinking we had teleported to another part of town. I eyed the narrow lot we were idling in front of.

"Yeah."

Celeste's response was muted. Something about the way she spoke that one, simple word had me swiveling my head away from the Ford's tinted windows. It took me all of two seconds to wish I hadn't. Our faces were closer than I'm sure either of us would have cared for if she wasn't so distracted by the scenery outside.

Celeste made no move to unbuckle her seatbelt. Instead, her delicate fingers stayed in her lap, running circles into her skin which was now an irritated shade of pink.

Booker popped his head out from around the front passenger seat. "You ready to go get your stuff back?"

The question had Celeste blinking, bringing her out of whatever prison her mind was in. She directed her rich brown eyes to the grinning idiot before wincing.

"This might take a little while. I didn't pack everything the night I left."

I let out a groan only for Easton to shoot daggers at me from over Celeste's head. He could get pissy with me all he wanted––this wasn't my idea of a fun night out. I wasn't planning on joining in on their white-knighting in the first place. Not until Booker promised to pay for my next tattoo. Depending on how long this whole escape took would decide which of my many prospective pieces I got next.

"We'll help you pack up," Easton said, appearing less threatening now that he wasn't staring at me. "It shouldn't take long."

Celeste drew in a deep breath. After an eternity, she nodded and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Alright."

That was all the permission they needed. Easton and Hendrix were out of the truck and marching across the unkempt lawn within moments. I hung back, leaning against the shiny black paint as they approached the side entrance of the two-story house.

Booker must have noticed I wasn't following behind Celeste like a lost puppy––unlike the rest of my teammates.

"Are you not coming?" He asked, stilling to a stop on the sidewalk.

I folded my arms across my chest. "I'll keep an eye on the truck."

"I doubt someone's going to commit grand theft auto in the ten minutes we're inside."

"It would sure make my night a hell of a lot more interesting if someone would," I muttered. When Booker didn't move I continued. "There's no reason for all four of us to be in there."