Rule Number Nine: Renley is required to text Theo back. Don’t leave him on read—that’s rude.
Okay, I think that about settles it. Take your time with your response, if you have one at all. I was thinking aboutgoing to the store today, but you know what, I believe Rupert and I are going on a small trip instead. I’ll be gone for a few days. Going to let absence make your heart grow fonder.
See you in a few, Gossy.
Your favorite British non-fiancé, Theodore
I stare down at his chicken scratch and I find it annoyingly endearing that he kept the original paper with all the rules on it, only added to it.
Doesn’t matter though. None of this matters.
I know what I want.
I know he doesn’t know what he wants.
And I know that at the end of the day, he makes me feel something that I’m not sure I’ve ever felt, and I’m not even remotely ready to process that, especially when he told me last night that he and Rupert like to mess around.
It’s too risky to even consider that little thought in my head. It’s best to push it aside. And that’s exactly what I decide to do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THEO
“You know, I was just making a breakthrough with Kitty by getting her to point her toes,” Rupert says after an hour of silence in the car.
No, we are not driving. Neither one of us feels comfortable doing that, but we do know how to use a ride sharing app, so this lucky person gets to drive us from Cape Meril to Boston for a three-day holiday.
I’m not sure what we plan to do in Boston, but we are going.
“Why are you even helping her?” I ask, looking out the window, willing myself not to text Renley, not yet. I need to give her some space.
“Because she has the potential to be great but needs some guidance. I’ve upped her social media game too, putting together some edits of her practically dancing around the yard with a play horse between her legs.” The driver looks at both of us in the rearview mirror.
“Can you not say it like that?” I chastise with a glare.
“What?” Rupert looks offended. “That’s what she’s doing.”
I rub my forehead. “Just…just say dancing around.”
Noticing the tension in the car, Rupert nudges me and says, “Mate, what’s been your problem? You’ve been glum ever since last night. Kind of hurts my feelings, because I’m trying to have a good time with you while we’re here. Did the date go poorly or something?”
“No, it was good,” I say, unable to get comfortable. It’s like my skin is itchy, my bones are aching, and any which way I sit, I throb, and not in a good way.
“Then what’s going on?”
I sigh heavily and slouch in my seat as far as my seatbelt will allow. “I did something stupid last night.”
“Call her by the wrong name?” he asks.
“No.”
“Poke her in the eye with your fork?”
“What? No.”
He winces. “Oh shit…did you accidentally burp in her face?”
“What? None of those things happened.”
