Forgetting the Rules (The Dating Playbook #5) - Mariah Dietz

1

Rose

My phone rings three times before I manage to wake up enough to answer it. “Hello?” My voice is gravely and deep with sleep.

“Wakey, Wakey! Time to get up! Beer. Breakfast. Let’s do it. Get ready!” Chantay’s voice is loud and boisterous.

I close my eyes and chuckle softly. “When I called to invite you for breakfast and beer, there were also strippers.” It was the ending of a bachelorette party I’d attended for a yoga student of mine that I didn’t know very well but promised a good time. By the time we got there, many were too drunk to sit up after a full night of dancing, drinking, and partying, so I called Chantay and invited her to meet me there since the restaurant had been privately rented out.

“This time, I was the one up all night on a binger, and I need you, Rose. Plus, I told you I was going to get back at you for waking me up.”

I lift my phone to see what time it is, and in the process, the romance novel Olivia lent me that I fell asleep reading, tumbles to the floor with a soft thump. “It’s not even six o’clock yet.”

“It’s close enough, and there are some good as fuck biscuits and gravy calling our name.”

I rub my eyes. “Can I have like twenty more minutes to sleep?”

“Nope. I’ll be there in five to get you. Bonus points if you dress trashy so they’ll sit us in the back.”

“You’re the worst influence,” I tell her.

“I learned from the best. I’m hanging up now.”

I set my phone down, and for a moment, I consider staying in bed. It’s Monday, our first day of our senior year of college and I need to be at the school newspaper at ten, allowing prime sleeping time between now and then. But, I have zero doubt that Chantay will make good on her word and be here in a hot minute.

I roll out of bed and find a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt before setting a world record for brushing my teeth. I slip my feet into my flip-flops, grab my phone with my credit cards already shoved into the sleeve on the back, and quietly make my way across the small apartment to the front door. I take a quick look around to make sure our cat, Juliet, isn’t nearby waiting to make a quick exit, and slip out the door. I quietly lock it behind me and head toward the parking lot right in time to see Chantay drive up.

“You don’t even look trashy,” she objects as I climb into the front passenger seat.

“Looking like a hussy takes time, and you only gave me five minutes. Maybe next time, you’ll give me a little more notice.” I click my seat belt in place and take a look at her. Her cherry red lipstick is smeared, and her mascara has left heavy circles beneath her light blue eyes. Her blond hair is a mess with leaves tangled in the strands, and her clothes are rumpled.

“Did you sleep with Bigfoot last night?” I ask, plucking a pine needle from her hair.

She smirks. “Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m trying, but your hair is making it kind of difficult not to be.” I pull out two bits of broken leaves.

“I’m starving,” she says, putting the car into reverse. “And trust me when I tell you I worked off a lot of calories last night.” She speeds out of the parking lot and comes to an abrupt stop that jolts us both forward at the entrance of the apartment complex.

“I can’t believe you didn’t go out at all this weekend,” Chantay continues as she grips the steering wheel and leans forward to look both ways before gunning the engine though it’s a red light. She whoops as we make a left turn onto the mostly empty street.

Five months ago, I might have laughed back when I was more like her. But my addiction to adrenaline and the thrill fueled by parties and late-night romps have started to dissipate. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the change and understand if it’s something I like or even want.

“I know,” I tell her. “Gabriel said the real estate market is moving fast right now, and there were some new empty buildings downtown.”

Chantay cuts her eyes to me. “Ah yes, Gabriel, the infamous realtor. If he’s got time to work on the weekend, he’s got time to get laid on the weekend, which