Bending the Rules (The Rules, #1)

29

Shea

As soon as Brenna exits the building, Noah returns. He slings his arm over my shoulder and hugs me.

"Did the plan work?"

Despite being pissed at my cousin, I have to laugh. Sneaky bastard. "You're dead, Noah. Dead."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Hollow threats get you nowhere, my friend."

"I'm serious. Did she agree?"

"Yes," I sigh.

Noah throws his hands up, a smile on his face. "Then why kill me? I helped you, Shea."

A retort sits on my tongue, but I don't have time to speak.

"Noah's right," Chelsea says. She steps through the kitchen doors, enjoying a cherry scone. There's a smudge of cherry on the corner of her mouth. Sugar sticks to her lips. "He did what you were too scared to do."

My lips twist to the side. Jerks just love to team up on me. Which is why I don't react.

Collecting the dishtowel I dropped, I toss it into the laundry bin. I then unload the dishwasher, handing clean cups to Noah and utensils to Chelsea. I put away the plates and bowls.

While we unload, I ponder Chelsea's words. She's right. I was too scared to ask Brenna out without a push. Rejection is a sensitive topic. My father has already rejected me. I'll never be good enough for him. My parents have rejected me, too. They don't act like the parents they're supposed to. And now that Brenna and I are friends again, asking her felt like a risk. One that could either go down in flames or last.

Closing time is in an hour, so business is slow. Noah and I catch up on some more cleaning while Chelsea works on her homework at the table.

Noah and I are amid packing up leftover sweets to take home when he breaks the silence. His voice is low, so Chelsea can't hear.

"How are things going?" Noah asks. He ladles some leftover soup into a bowl. Then he grabs a spoon and leans against the counter. He shovels a spoonful of soup into his mouth. "Last time we discussed the bet, KJ fu—screwed up the video."

"Nice catch," I comment.

It wouldn't have mattered. With once glance over my shoulder, I see Chels is immersed in her homework. She's oblivious to her surroundings.

"Nice avoidance of my question."

Sighing, I wipe my hands on my apron. Then remove my hat and run a hand through my sweaty hair. Whoever says cleaning is an effortless task is wrong. "What do you want me to say? We're stuck in the same boat. Until Saturday. The guys and I are having a conversation with Coach. About Connor and his games. We're going in without proof."

Noah slurps his soup. "You'll be fine. For now, Shea, focus on the Winter Formal."

I frown. "The Winter Formal isn't as important as helping Brenna. Or solving the problems I created. We're leaving Connor too long. He needs to be taken down."

Setting down his soup, Noah gives me a stern look. He also rests a hand on my shoulder. "Those issues are important. But so is having fun and relaxing. You do nothing for yourself. It's always for Chelsea. You're talking to the coach on Saturday. The Winter Formal is tomorrow. Relaxing for one day won't do you any harm."

Noah drops his hand from my shoulder. Expels a deep sigh. "Besides, someone needs to help Brenna relax. That girl was wound tight tonight."

I twist the string of my apron. "She's not always wound tight. Things are bad for her. She grew up believing her dad left her. Turns out, her mom's been in contact with him for years. Brenna met him during our tourney in Kamloops. It was a shit-show."

Noah loosens a low whistle. "And that's why you want to solve this Connor problem. Poor Brenna. That's horrible."

"Yeah," I shrug. "It's too much. She needs a break. Tucker and I text each other and try to figure out ways to steer Brenna down a different path. It's difficult, though. She's stubborn. I don't think focusing on me will help her."

My cousin rubs his jaw. Several seconds pass before he shakes his head. "No. You're wrong. Focus on having fun. Maybe some of that will spread into Brenna. Make her forget everything that's going on. Before the Winter Formal, take her out for dinner. Go the extra mile. Be a gentleman."

I press my lips together. Brenna doesn't seem like the type who would appreciate that gesture. Then again, I could be wrong. A dose of something new may be good for her. Plus, she agreed to go. There's a reason behind that. One I want to discuss with her. 

"Fine, Noah. I'll take your advice. But if this fails, I'm blaming you."

He flashes me a cheeky grin. "Permission granted. Trust me, though, this won't fail. Brenna will forget all about the shit-show going on."

Sighing, I grab a bowl. There's no use in dumping the soup and wasting food. Might as well eat.

For the sake of my sanity, I hope everything turns out well.

Tomorrow's Winter Formal.

The looming discussion with Coach.

Being accepted into Boston University.

Finding somewhere for Chelsea to stay.

Hope is potent in my chest—even if things are slipping on a downward slope.