The Edge Rules (The Rules Series Book 3) Read online

My insides quiver when he speaks Spanish. It may not be French like my prison daydream, but there’s something about a drop-dead gorgeous man whispering sweet nothings in another language that makes me want to pull him against me right here in the parking lot.

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’ve found my sea legs, so to speak.”

  He laughs, a low sound that softens his features. He holds out his hand. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Xavier.”

  I take his warm hand in mine. “Brianna.”

  We stand like that for what feels like an eternity, then I loosen my grip. I may be slowly turning over a new leaf with Drea, but I’m not ready to give the upper hand to a boy, no matter how much he makes me swoon.

  “See you next week,” I say.

  “Until then.” He touches my elbow, then moves around the back of his car and waits until I’m safely in the driver’s seat.

  When I pull into my driveway, I’m still thinking about Xavier. I’ve never met anyone like him—probably because I’ve never allowed myself to consider that something could happen with anyone not in the quote-unquote popular crowd. He’s the exact opposite of everything I thought I wanted, yet I can’t deny the way my body reacts to him.

  Dad would kill me if I ever brought someone like Xavier home. From the tattoos to the earrings and the noticeable lack of a button-down or polo, he’d barely make it into the driveway before Dad would chase him away with his figurative shotgun.

  But when I step inside and glance in his empty study, I realize it doesn’t matter.

  He’s already moved out.

  As a lifelong gossip, it’s torture not having anyone to tell my growing pile of secrets. While I never fully trusted Kenzie, we spent a lot of time together and I considered her a friend—even if I knew whatever I told her would end up all over school the next day. Mike might be willing to listen after her birthday peace offering, but if any of my secrets get out I’ll be the laughingstock of the school.

  All day Friday I feel twitchy, and the feeling is amplified when in the middle of Ethics someone shouts that it’s snowing. And not just that flurry crap that barely makes it to the ground. Honest to goodness snow. Living in Boulder, you’re pretty much forced to appreciate all four seasons since, as the joke goes, they can all happen in one day. Fall and summer are beautiful, but winter has always been my favorite. When fresh snow covers the world, it hides even the darkest mistakes and makes it feel like anything’s possible.

  Or at least the first real snowfall is like that.

  It also makes my classmates act like they’re high. The ski resorts have been making snow for a couple weeks, but real snow is an event worthy of school closing early. Of course, they don’t actually close, but they may as well. First snow combined with Friday afternoon and the teachers have lost complete control.

  As I head to my locker at the end of the day, kids I normally never speak to bounce by and smile at me. “Are you heading out?” Their excitement is contagious, but A) I’m not much of a night skier, and B) I’m technically grounded.

  For now.

  When Mom gets home, I’m ready with several plans of attack. If she’s tired, I’ll play to her sympathetic side, but if she’s pissed off at the world I’ll appeal to her need to burn off energy. She enters the house from the garage and dumps her purse and coat on the marble counter with a heavy sigh. Tired it is.

  “How was your day?” I ask. “I was thinking sushi.”

  She collapses into a stool next to the island. “All this snow and you want sushi?”

  I shrug. “We don’t have to worry about it getting cold.”

  “Touché.”

  “Maybe watch a movie or something later?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

  I relax my shoulders and do my best to soften my expression. “Nothing. If your week was anything like mine—and I’m guessing it was—you could use a little distraction.” I smile, and this time it’s not fake. “I was thinking of the Channing, Gael, or Zac variety.”

  She drums her manicured nails on the counter. “Keep talking.”

  “Maybe some popcorn with real butter?” And a little wine once Mom gets into the movie and stops paying attention to me. One of the many drawbacks to my social life tanking is I haven’t been to a party—and therefore haven’t partied—in what feels like forever. I’m not a drunk or anything, but getting buzzed while watching some sexy man-meat in the living room might be the highlight of my week.

  “Sold. Order whatever you want, just be sure to get me—”

  “A seaweed salad,” I finish her sentence. As if I could forget.

  “Thanks. This will be good.” She brushes a kiss across my cheek on her way out of the kitchen. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I order several rolls and seaweed salads for both of us, then cue up my favorite Zac Efron movie and wait for Mom to join me. We’re halfway through the movie when I make my move. “What are you up to this weekend?”

  She takes a sip of her second glass of wine. “You’re looking at it.”

  “Mom, that’s not healthy.”

  She twists on the couch so she’s facing me. “Now you know what’s best?”

  I pick at my leggings. “No, but staying cooped up on the first weekend since—” I wave my hand, unwilling to say the words arrest and Dad.

  She raises an eyebrow. “And this has nothing to do with the snow?”

  I press a hand to my chest. “I’m hurt.”

  “And I’m right.”

  “Maybe a little.” I lean forward, closing the space between us like we’re a couple of girlfriends, not mother and daughter. “Let’s go skiing. It’ll be like old times.” When I was little, before I decided I was too cool to be seen in public with my parents, the three of us would go skiing almost every weekend. As much as I love traveling abroad, our trips around Colorado felt more special because they were spontaneous.

  She grabs the remote and pauses the movie. “What’s going on, Bri?”

  I pushed too far. “What do you mean?” My eyelids start to bat on their own and I look down to conceal my mistake. That doesn’t work on her.

  “Since when do you want to do anything with me, especially on a weekend? Are you suddenly too good for your friends?”

  If she only knew. “They’re busy. And I thought it’d be nice to spend some time together.”

  She leans back against the couch. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ll pass. If you really want to go, consider yourself ungrounded. There’s not much point anymore.”

  I’m torn between exuberance that I get to go skiing and horror that I’ll have to go by myself. For a hot second I consider pleading with her to go, but she presses play and the moment passes.

  I can handle going alone. No one will realize I’m by myself as long as I keep moving, and that’s kind of the point of skiing, right? The only time I’ll have to be careful is if I take a break in the lodge.

  I’ve gotten pretty good at lunchtime diversions, so how hard can a ski resort be?

  *****

  So far, so good. I ordered my season pass weeks ago so I don’t have to wait in line by myself. I’m not wearing my usual hot pink outfit because when I pulled it out of storage, I discovered my cherry lip balm had melted all over my pants. Fortunately I had a pair of white snowpants from my pre-Bunny days, so while they aren’t my preference, it’s better than having to wear Mom’s skin-tight black ones.

  Carrying my gear solo was a little embarrassing—this is the first time I’ve missed having a boyfriend since Homecoming—but Dad always makes me carry my own equipment so it’s not like I’m helpless. I step into my skis and skate to the nearest lift, and as soon as I’m scooped into the air, my problems fade away.

  Until I get to the top and Cally and Blake are there.

  They shouldn’t be here. The ski and snowboard teams always have meets on Saturdays.

  Cally sees me right away and her normally relaxed smile turns into a scowl. Nice to see our m
utual hate-hate relationship is still going strong. I glide by them with my head held high and Cally watches me, no doubt waiting for me to say something horrible, but I don’t have it in me. Seeing them together—and not boyfriend-girlfriend together, but hanging out like normal friends—hits me harder than I expected. I’m not sure how I miscalculated things so badly, but here I am, standing alone on the top of a mountain, jealous of the two people I banished from my life.

  But all that fades away when my skis take over. I’m not a balls-to-the-wall skier like Cally is, so they’ll no doubt pass me in a minute, but that’s okay. Up here, surrounded by snow-covered trees, I can finally breathe.

  I work to keep my skis parallel with as little space between them as possible. When I first learned to ski, Dad showed me videos of guys gliding down the slopes so smoothly it’s like they were out for an afternoon stroll. Legs together, posture relaxed but upright, the only indication you’re putting forth any effort is when one foot slides a little in front of the other when turning. It’s like snow ballet with five-foot fiberglass sticks strapped to your feet—all grace and beauty.

  But not everyone skis that way. A loud whoop echoes off the trees as Blake and Cally race by, snow kicking up in their wake. They give me a wide berth and don’t look at me as they pass, and for a hot second I wish I could fly down the hill with their reckless abandonment. Cally’s tucked in a crouch, her helmet cutting through the air, and Blake’s a couple feet behind her, arms tucked to his chest and board pointing straight down the hill. As much as I want to hate them, they’re perfect together.

  I finish the run and take a different lift that’s far away from the terrain park, where they’re most likely headed, and finally start to relax. I’ve seen a couple kids from school, but they’re all so terrified to speak to me that it’s like I’m here by myself.

  Which kind of sucks.

  When I first set out to rule the school, I assumed dominance and cruelty were the keys to earning respect. A few harsh words here and a casual rumor there—with the help of Kenzie and Mike—and I quickly became known as the head Snow Bunny, she who was not to be messed with. And I loved it. Lashing out at people lessened the anger I felt inside, but it took more and more to release it. By the time Cally showed up and started her Brivolution—yeah, she thinks I haven’t heard that, but I have—I was at a breaking point. Keeping up the reign of terror is exhausting, and when Mike walked away, my foundation started to crumble. Losing Homecoming was the final crack in my façade, and that’s when the shoplifting got out of control. Despite how clever I like to think I am, I’m shocked it took as long as it did to get busted—really busted. And now here I am, completely alone.

  The chairlift reaches the top of the run and I have to side-step around two girls on snowboards who are sprawled at the bottom of the ramp, apparently still learning the difficult task of riding a board with only one foot strapped in. I don’t understand why anyone would choose boarding over skiing—having both feet strapped to one board makes it harder to stay in control, and you’re constantly sitting in the snow. As a skier, I pride myself on never wiping out. There’s no way it can be fun getting soaked every other run.

  Case in point: a snowboarder’s lying on his back fifty feet ahead of me, board in the air, goggles halfway between us. At least I think it’s a guy. Between the helmet and unflattering black outfit it’s impossible to tell what’s underneath all those layers. I slow down to pick up the goggles, and not until they’re in my gloved hand does it occur to me that this is the first time I’ve ever stopped to help someone. I’m not sure what made me do it—maybe picking up trash is starting to rub off on me—but now I have to talk to whoever’s lying on the ground.

  “You okay? I have your goggles.” I come to a stop with my arm outstretched, hoping I can dump them and be on my way without a twenty-minute conversation with a rando.

  The boarder rolls to one side, props onto an elbow, and looks up at me.

  It’s Xavier.

  My breathing stills. Birds chirp in the distance and I swear I can hear the snow falling in the trees over the sudden pounding of my heart.

  “Thanks.” He smiles, and my knees nearly buckle.

  Suddenly sitting in the snow doesn’t sound so bad. What the hell is it with this boy and why do I have such a strong reaction every time he looks at me? “You okay?” I ask again. Maybe I should offer to check for injuries.

  “Caught an edge. Haven’t done that since middle school.”

  I’m acutely aware that he’s still sprawled out in front of me while my brain is locking down bits of information. I’m still holding his goggles, but he makes no move to take them from me so I jab my poles in the snow and do the unthinkable—I bend my knees and lower to the ground next to him. Because of my skis, I have to sit with my legs pressed tightly together like some prissy lady from the last century, but aside from taking them off, that’s my only option.

  He pushes up so he’s sitting, and I act like this is the most natural thing in the world.

  Edge Rule #5: For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction.

  “That’s why I ski. No nasty edges out to get me.”

  He laughs and runs a gloved hand along my ski, and you’d think he’s stroking my thigh the way my insides heat up. “You’ve got twice as many edges.”

  “I suppose, but we use them differently, right? If one catches, I can just lift that foot and balance on the other one. With this,” I point at his board, which is light blue with navy swirls, “you’re all in.”

  The corner of his mouth lifts. “Not ready for that level of commitment?” His dark eyes stay on mine and I fear he might actually be able to hear my heart galloping away in my chest.

  “I prefer to be in control. Lying on my back,” I nod at him, “isn’t my style.”

  “Noted.” He watches me long enough for me to realize what I just said and my cheeks flush despite the cold. “So what would it take to get you on a board?”

  “The second coming of Christ?”

  He laughs, a warm sound that wraps around me. “What if I don’t want to wait that long?”

  “You tell me.” The space between us suddenly feels smaller, even though neither of us have moved. Is he asking me out? Or has he realized that I can’t turn down a challenge?

  He brushes the snow off his boots, breaking the spell. “I’ve been told that I’m an excellent instructor.”

  I hold up his goggles and give him a look that says I don’t believe him.

  “Okay, this doesn’t help my argument, but trust me.”

  “Why should I?”

  His gaze flicks from my eyes to my lips, and I swear he does that just to throw me off. “Have I given you a reason not to?”

  “Not yet.” Based on how he carries himself, I’m sure he’s an amazing boarder, but I’m not going to admit that to him. I literally know three things about him: he drives a horrendous car, he snowboards, and he did something bad enough to wind up on the Chain Gang. And that’s not counting the fact that he’s completely wrong for me.

  So why can’t I stop thinking about him?

  He pushes to his feet in one smooth motion and holds out his hand to me. I hand him his goggles, but he grabs my wrist and hauls me to my feet. I let out a squeal—he’s stronger than I anticipated and I wasn’t expecting to be pulled up like that—and the next thing I know we’re chest to chest. Well, chest to belly, since he’s half a foot taller than me.

  “Thanks.” My voice comes out breathy but I’m too flustered to care.

  “Thanks for grabbing my specs.” We stand there for an impossibly long moment, neither willing to make a move or say goodbye. I never make the first move and it appears he doesn’t either, which means we’ll either be stuck on the side of the mountain for the rest of the day or—

  I pull away gently. “My friends are probably wondering what happened to me.”

  He touches my arm, then lets his hand fall to his side. “Mine too.”

  �
�So,” we say at the same time.

  “I’ll see you Tuesday?” I ask.

  “Can I get your number?” he asks.

  So much for assumptions. Every time I think I have him pegged, he surprises me. “I like your question better,” I say.

  He unzips his jacket and pulls his phone out of an inside pocket, and for the second time this week I give my number to someone I never thought I’d be friends with.

  My phone chirps in my pocket and I smile.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to see what you’ve been missing.”

  That could mean so many things. “I will.”

  “See you around.” He winks before securing his goggles over his eyes, then sets off down the mountain.

  I take off after him, careful not to get too close so he doesn’t think I’m following him, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t make the turn for the chairlift, but instead heads for the lodge. I’m considering following him when I come to a quick stop, spraying snow in front of me.

  Cally and Blake are on the patio near the fire pit and they wave when they see Xavier.

  Even worse, he waves back.

  Then joins them.

  If he’s friends with them, it’s only a matter of time before they fill his head with all kinds of crap about me. All of which is true. Then he’ll run away as fast as he can.

  Not that I care.

  I toss my hair over my shoulder and get back on the lift, determined to push Xavier and the Dynamic Duo out of my head for the rest of the day.

  *****

  That lasts about three hours. Now I’m home and I can’t stop replaying our conversation. When we talked after my encounter with Jordan, I thought I saw a glimmer of interest but told myself that was just the sex appeal that seems to ooze from him. But now I’m not so sure. He wasn’t shy about getting my number, and for some inexplicable reason I’m considering risking my pride and preconceived prejudice to take him up on his proposition.

  But not without outside consultation. It’s doubtful Drea expected this when she gave me her number, but I text her anyways.

  I need advice. It’s a thousand times more direct than I’d normally be, but if I want my plan to work, I need an answer fast.