Bending the Rules (The Rules, #1)

52

Brenna

Schitt's Creek is the best TV show ever made. Hands down. No one can argue with me. It's funny and lighthearted, and Dan Levy is gold. Plus, it's based in Canada. At least... it's made from a Canadian perspective and filmed in Canada. 

I'm laying on the couch, snacking on some green grapes while wrapped in a blanket. My hair is tied up in a damp bun and I'm wearing an old, baggy T-shirt and black joggers. Watching reruns of Schitt's Creek could become a hobby. A nice, unproductive hobby. Okay, it's not that unproductive. While I am giving my body a rest, I'm not giving my mind a rest. I'm also not overworking it.

My laptop rests on the table, open to a saved Word document. I'm outlining the final essay for my English assignment. We've been aware of it since the beginning of term. It's not due until mid-June, but getting a head start is never a bad idea. Leaving it until the last minute only results in stress. I'm trying to prevent stress from affecting me. I think my counsellor would be happy with the actions I'm taking.

That being said, paying attention to my essay outline has been difficult. The episode I'm watching is when David and Moira are making enchiladas, and they don't understand what "fold in the cheese" means. No matter how many times I watch it, it always makes me laugh.

Leaning back against the cushions, I grab my container of green grapes and rest them on my lap. I can put the essay outlining on hold for twenty minutes. This episode is too good to pass up.

Just after the scene ends, my phone vibrates. I contemplate looking at it for a fraction of a second. Then I put down the grapes and grab my phone from the coffee table. Shea might be texting me. He wasn't happy about going to the party, but something seemed off about the exchange we had with Connor. There may be more tricks up his sleeve. Shea attending the party with our friends is an advantage. That way, he can't be singled out and there isn't a risk of him losing his temper. Shea assured me he can handle derogatory comments that are thrown at me. Meaning, he'll defend me, but he won't use his fists. Me being there reduces Connor's leverage, too.

Also, I wanted some time to relax. I have the house to myself and it's the weekend. My face is a little sore, too. Although the cut didn't require stitches, the bruising is pretty bad. I keep having to take painkillers every five hours or so.

When I unlock my phone, the text is from Shea. I'm suspecting him to moan and complain about the party, but that's not the theme of the text at all.

Can you come pick me up? The guys and I are totally WASTED.

I frown, chewing on my thumbnail. That doesn't seem right. Shea and the rest of the guys weren't interested in drinking. This could be part of Connor's expected ploy. To lure me there and then release hell. I'm not in the mood. Instead of replying, I decide to text Hunter. He's the most responsible out of anyone. Plus, I'm guaranteed a sober response.

After firing off a quick text to Hunter, I return my attention to the screen. This time, though, my mind is churning through all the possibilities. If Shea is drunk, I'm not judging him. As teenagers, we're allowed to go out and have some fun. Breaking and bending the rules may be frowned upon, but it's a necessity to learn lessons. On the other hand, if Connor's playing a game of chess, Hunter will rat him out. Then I won't need to go and pick Shea and the rest of the guys up. 

My phone vibrates. I unlock it and open my messages. There's a text from Hunter.

The guys were pretty drunk when I left, Bren. Had to leave early. Mom picked me up. I'd pick them up, but my head is killing me. Your mom wasn't kidding when she said I need rest and quiet. 

Damn. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to make an appearance. I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, releasing a frustrated groan.

Frustrations aside, I'd rather make an appearance as opposed to risking someone driving home while drunk. I quickly respond to Hunter's text, saying it's not a big deal and that I can pick the guys up.

He responds with a thumbs-up emoji.

Sighing, I kick the blanket away and head upstairs.

Showing up in my pyjamas wouldn't be a good idea.