U Know The Rules And So Do I Novels & Stories

The duct tape embedded on my lips tasted bitter. The glass windows left no option for ventilation, forming sweat droplets that glued my messed hair strands into my sweaty cheek. He leaned closer and kneeled. Without saying a word, he untied only my hands' ropes, leaving my feet glued to the chair sticks. He then grabbed the silver tape without a single stutter, which burned my lips. "Listen, we will play by my rules here," he said with an unclear voice through the mask. "What do you want?!" "Rule number one, I am the only one who can speak."

"Fuck" "Rule number 1, never grab a police officer's shirt, also the shirt costs a lot, I don't want your filthy hands touching it. God knows where those hands were used" he asserted with disgust. "You bastard" I spat trying to attack him again but instead I heard a 'click' sound causing my eyes to instantly drop to my wrists.

I rolled my eyes at him. A corner of his mouth twitched into a quick smile before he said, “We’re still roommates.” “Roommates,” I agreed. “Not friends.” “Yeah, sure. Not friends.” I rolled my eyes again. It was probably the weirdest truce in human history, but at the end of day, t was something. An awkward silence settled over the room and me wanting to fill it, I spoke before thinking. “So… your parents—” Jayden’s smile disappeared and his body went rigid.

Rule 2: Dad‌ can‌ work bu⁠t come back. Rule 3:⁠ Mummy rests. Rule 4: Big brother do‍esn’t have‌ to‍ know everything. Rule 5: Fami‍ly helps. Ava stared. Then looked at him. He shrugged. “Updated version.” She smiled. ‍ Then noticed somethin⁠g. At th⁠e bo‌ttom— smal‌l l‍etters. Rule 6: If baby⁠ loves everybody‍…

More determined. “You need rules.” Something solid. Something that makes sense. Something that doesn’t change every five minutes the way Beckett does. I nod to myself. “Rule number one.” I hold up a finger. “Stay away from him.” Simple. Necessary. Probably impossible. But necessary. “Rule number two.” Don’t analyze every stupid thing that comes out of his mouth. Because clearly that’s getting me nowhere. And rule number three… I take a slow breath. “Remember who he is.”

I stand resilient in the endless flashing of cameras. “Good luck,” I tell him graciously, then rethink it. Maybe this is like theater, where wishing someone good luck is bad luck. “Break a leg. Or a dick.” Gah, that doesn’t sound right. “There’s more,” he says after a pause, during which I berate myself for being the most awkward person ever. “We have some rules.” “Rules. Like… no rebounds?” “Rules for you.” I sit up straighter, not sure what to say.

I asked. His mouth opened. Closed. Nothing. “You don’t know?” I said, louder. More laughter now. The tables behind him were shaking from it. He looked like he wanted to disappear. “Rule number one,” I barked, “is that an Alpha knows his damn laws. Rule number two, he doesn’t cower like a kicked pup. And rule number three…” I leaned in, “he earns his place.” I grabbed his tray. His eyes widened. “Wait,” he whispered.