Breaking Rule Number Two

Chapter Seven

Pretending to have a tutoring session was the only way she could think to get away without raising alarms. If she told Casey she wanted to leave, her best friend would pester her until she found out everything and Lorelei wasn't ready for that. She could have feigned sickness, but then Casey would have to leave and she was vibing with Damien and that would have caused drama–

She sighs.

There was a small voice in the back of her head that told her to prepare herself in case Luke told Casey about them, and how she'd lied. How she thought she was in love even when he hit her.

It was disgusting to think about, it made her feel physically ill just to remember what she accepted–what she thought she deserved.

Luke was a wild card, though right there on the outdoor patio of THC with a seltzer in her hand she was just content to be away from him.

The way Luke grabbed her, the way he looked at her. She wanted to crawl out of her skin. She couldn't believe she ever thought he was the perfect guy for her.

It started out fun. He was sweet and asked her lots of questions about herself. He took her on extravagant dates and laughed at her jokes and it was all so amazing. She tried not to like him, but he'd find her every day at the gym and ask her out until she finally said yes. That first summer was almost too good to be true. They'd mutually agreed they weren't ready for a relationship and that they needed to focus on school so they'd separated. But he texted her. He FaceTimed her till the early hours of the morning. He sent her flowers and when he saw her at bars he'd wink at her and send a drink her way, but he never wanted a relationship until the beginning of last summer. He said they could make summer their trial run. If they didn't work they could officially end things by the time school started–no harm, no foul.

After a few weeks into the relationship, he started pointing things out about her body and complaining about her friends. He'd progressively punch her harder when they were play fighting and start yelling, calling her everything from a child to overdramatic. He'd get mad if she used the wrong towel, using it as an excuse to scream at her. When he got too drunk he'd shove her and grab her so hard she'd bruise, but when she'd confront him about it the next day he'd have some excuse about how tough his life is and how she needed to be more understanding.

It was an absolute mind-fuck.

She had been so in love and blinded that when he called her a slut when she wore shorts or told her to try putting olive oil on her boobs to make them grow she believed it was because he cared.

He doesn't want other guys looking at me. He agrees I'd look better with a bigger cup size. He's just trying to make me a better person. He cares. He cares. He cares.

She takes a large gulp of her seltzer. Dammit. How could I have ever thought he loved me?

People who actually care about you wouldn't go kiss other girls in front of you because they saw you talking to another guy. They wouldn't yell at you for dropping a glass and breaking it or being ignored for days after accidentally letting your phone die and not texting back right away when he messaged.

The seltzer can crinkles slightly under her grip. Right? There was more to love than that...or at least a girl could hope.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Charlie asks, bringing her back to reality.

She looks up at him. He's sitting across from her at the table, the string lights above illuminating his features in a way that made them look softer, if that was possible. Charlie always had a boyish look to him as if life hadn't come yet to sharpen him.