The First Rule

Chapter 16b: The Stubborn Stones

At the memory, his body becomes rigid, a stern expression painting his face. Frustration courses through him. He loathes how his own bestfriend wouldn't listen. How everything spiraled out of control despite the rule he set to maintain the peace, and now—

'Wyatt. That brat.' he thought to himself. If he didn't make the bet in the first place, none of this would happen. Seeking an outlet for his frustration, he traps your thumb and index finger between his own, prompting you to look at him and meet his stern gaze.

Worried that you might've upset him instead, you clarify, "What.. I meant was—we're so close to being 18! And this college thing is definitely one of the first on what we should choose freely, right?! As a grown—" cringing at your almost sudden outburst, you gulp and pause.

Brushing off your minor slip, he furrowed his eyebrows even further—however, this time, he cups your hands gently upon his calf, and gently strokes the back of your hands. Noticing the sudden change of gesture.. you nervously continue,

"Listen.. we should go to wherever school we want to—and I will always support you in every decision that you make, Ty. I don't know whether I could go to Yale either anyway, heh—"

"Hey, don't be like that, I know you'll get in."

He reassures as he squeezes your hands firmly, seriousness visible in his eyes as he makes the statement. But then, he heaves a big sigh as the weight of a separated future with you weighs heavy on his head, causing it to droop down towards the ground. For you, despite all the uncertain feelings.. one thing is for sure..

"You know, I'm so proud of you, Tyty."

Your words seem to settle heavily in his limbs—because immediately he looks at you, eyes glinting. Holding up a pinkie to him as you offer him an assuring smile, you ask, "Just.. promise we'll still have each other's backs?"

He looks at your pinkie briefly then heaves another big sigh—this one's more of a mixture of relief and gratitude. Darting his apologetic eyes to you again, he whispers, "I'm sorry," before finally circling your pinkie with his own, just to pull you into him, holding you tight. His neverending sweet gesture makes you flinch a little, but then you give in to the familiar scent of him, finding comfort in his embrace. You bury your head on his shoulder as you circle your hands around him—both of you readjust your seating to a more comfortable position.

"Bestfriends?"

Dwelling in his embrace, you sigh and whisper, "Forever." But a smirk creeps in as you tease, "King of Stanford on the way~"

He chuckles, but with a longing expression, he hugs you tighter—like he's unwilling to let go. Believing that this is a good time to address the other tension hanging in the air, he gathers his courage and brings up the heavy issue,

"Em, about our fight.. I'm sorry, okay..? I just wanted to have time with you—I was inconsiderate push it on you—"

"Hey it's fine.. I was having a PMS too that day—so.."

Lies.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he narrows his eyes as he looks upward, then downward, directing his gaze to your head under his chin. "Isn't your.. period supposed to start at the end of the month? I remember when I was preparing for the game on October you—"

Shoot. I forgot—he always remembers.

Eyes darting right and left in panic, you silently thank your lucky stars that he can't see your expression right now. Desperately trying to divert the conversation, you resort to the only move you can think of. Gaslight.

"Ew! Are you a stalker or something?! What if my cycle changes?! Should I tell you everything?!"

Rolling his eyes in weariness, he sneers, "That's not what I meant—come on! We just made up—"

"Are we, though?"

Cynically, you jeer, pulling away slightly to glare at him—taunting him as he dangles his head to the other side, away from yours as you continue, "How can I be bestfriends with someone who has a bully as his girlfriend? Do you even like her?"

You sound demanding, because you need to know. Not because of the bet. Just him. Just need one last reason to be said and you'll leave this one alone. You're tired. You have to focus on yourself this time.

"Well I wouldn't date her if I don't like her, right?"

Sigh, okay then.

"Okay then, I'll leave this to you. I'm not going to say this again—I'm not saying that she's not good for you, okay? I just don't like her as a person."

"Geez, Winny, that's worse!"

"What do you expect, Ty?! Everybody knows she's bad attitude alert! And what she did in front of us—just because she's in a bad mood doesn't do it justice! So don't ever force me to hang out with her ever again," you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Catching your firmness, he surrenders and soothes, "I understand your judgment, and.. yeah I know, that's fair. Okay I won't." Hearing his assurance, you go silent, feeling his chest exhale a big sigh beside you—until eventually, he breaks the silence with a tentative question, "So.. are you forgiving me?"

You take a moment to consider his question, letting out a little cough. However instead of a serious forgiveness, a mischievous grin forms on your lips as you joke,

"Only if you remove the 8th rule."

At first, he looks puzzled, but as realization dawns on him, he pushes you away from his embrace with full force, as if you were an annoying ant crawling around unpredictably on his skin. Scratching your head guiltily, you purse your lips, holding a sheepish big grin, a very stark contrast to his disgusted expression. As if seeking his permission, you clench your knuckles and put them on your seat as you say,

"I think he's cute.."

"BLECH. You have bad taste," he retorts.

Mocking my taste in boys? Oh no he doesn't go there. I know. my taste is good—uh.. yeah—

"BAD. TASTE? Look who's talking."

His face distorts further into something unpleasant, yelling, "Bro?! I'm not dating Eve! At least I stayed true to our rule—not mending here and there, eager to break them!"

"You made that rule!"

"It's too risky, Em! What if you don't make it?! What will my relationship with him be?!"

For a second, you consider his point. Maybe.. he has a point.. But still, you retort, "But so far—I connect with him—you feel me?”

“That’s because he’s my—we’re alike—that’s just because we’re all friends, Winters!”

“Can't you see I was having—a moment of bliss before you drag me down here?! You want us to win the bet, right?!"

"Listen, I want us to win the bet too, but not you with him—you hate having your hair ruffled, right?! Sike, Em! That’s his go-to move! Touching the hair—?!"

You remember seeing Hunt spotting his friend, Niamh—who’s been sitting alone on a bench, buried in her iPhone. With a mischievous grin, he sneaked up behind her and ruffled her head, mussing up her carefully styled hair. She let out a startled squeak and whirled around—but as she realized who the culprit was, her glare transformed into a big grin.. before they burst into laughter and made out—

You remember spotting Dominic and his friend, Sarah—who were enjoying a romantic stroll through the park—when he suddenly reached over and ruffled her head, tousling her hair. Sarah's surprised laughter rang out through the peaceful surroundings as she playfully swatted at Dominic, shaking her head in amusement at his antics before making out—

You remember Hunt mingled through the crowd, a mischievous glint in his eye. He spotted his friend, Mia—chatting with a group of people—before deciding to join in the fun. Sneaking up behind her, he ruffled her head, causing her to jump in surprise before turning around with a playful scowl—before they made out—

"BRO! CAN YOU EVEN HANDLE THAT?!"

...

At the realization, you stare into the distance with a pout on your face. But not until you gain a sudden glow as you giggle,

"That's one weakness, I'll try to accept—"

"God. Help me—"

"Seriously, what is with you?! We haven't talked for like—a whole week, and then you just decide to lecture me on which boy for me to date?!"

He throws his head back to the sky as he rests his hands behind him in weariness from your never-ending argument. After pausing for a while, you continue, "Why are you so worked up over it anyway? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?!"

"Em, I know how he is, I’ve known him all my life. He's a great friend. But when it comes to romances—he's a total jerk, I'm not joking. You're well aware of his rep, right?"

Seemingly contemplating, you quickly revert to your usual denial as you argue, "But he's so gentle with me! He understands me—"

"f**k the bars are so low, huh—“

”Excuse me—?!”

“That's because he knows how to make you fall to his knees! For f***s sake! Why can't you understand?!"

He yells in frustration, throwing his body forward toward you as he spreads his hands, determined to make you understand from his perspective. Seeing how worked up he is, you take a moment, staring at his unfamiliar frustration you've never seen.

"It's not like—not like I want him to be my boyfriend or something—I'm just curious about him—"

"This is out of the question, Em. We're not removing the 8th rule—"

"Then this conversation's over! I have a pilates session at 4, don't I?"

He stares at you in bewilderment, scoffing in disbelief. Shaking his head, he pauses and then makes a hand gesture towards your house, indicating for you to leave. Taken aback by his cold demeanor, you let out a little gasp. Pouting, you briskly stand from your seat and grab your bag from the ground, walking away from his astounded self.

As you depart, he also jumps from his seat, his overflowing adrenaline of rage take action as he growls in irritation. He snatches up a rock from the ground and hurls it into the lake in rage—causing it to make a big splash! The sound echoes across the water, reverberating in the air. As the ripples spread across the surface, the rock gradually.. but slowly.. sinks to the bottom of the lake.

Just like his relationship with you.