Rewriting the Rules (2 page)

“I can take care of myself, Will. I can’t believe you’re trying to play matchmaker right now. I don’t want a relationship.” I hold Troy’s hand tighter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Charlotte, I’m not doing anything to hurt you. I want someone who I trust to be here for you and protect you. I mean, if something happens to you guys then that’s great. He’s a good guy. Give him a chance.”

I remember everything Will’s given up for me and slowly let go of Troy’s hand. He pulls me back, but I pull hard enough and he lets me go. At that moment, I lost him and broke the promise we made.

Jessica comes over and helps me pack my things. Since I moved in with Shawn I don’t own much, just what I brought over. My belongings fit in three suitcases, two duffel bags, and a tote. I look at my bags and hear Shawn coming into the bedroom.

“I’ll take these down to your car,” he absently says. The only thing I can do is nod and look at Jessica.

“Thanks, Shawn,” she says for me.

When he leaves the bedroom, I sit back on the bed and pick up a framed picture of Shawn and me.

“How did this happen?”

“You can’t blame yourself, babe.”

I look at my best friend and am so thankful to have her in my life. We’ve been friends since first grade when she moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan. Since that day, we’ve been inseparable. She knows everything about me and has been there whenever I need her.

“You’re going to go to Rochester. Be with Will and Troy, then when things settle down you’ll talk to Troy.”

“He won’t talk to me. I tried for so many months and he never responded. He hates me.”

“I don’t think he hates you. Sure, he’s mad, but hate? No. He can’t. That man loves you so much and you love him.”

“What am I going to do?”

Jessica places her hand on my heart and I understand what she’s saying. She knows this is the right thing to do and it gives me a little bit of hope knowing I’m making the right decision. I can’t be with a man I don’t truly love. My heart beats for someone else and it’s not for Shawn.

“I’m going to Rochester,” I whisper and prepare myself for another life-changing moment

Chapter 2

Troy

“Thanks, Doc.” I disconnect the call and start laughing uncontrollably. Tears stream down my face, and I’m holding my stomach from laughing so hard. “Wow,” I mutter and put my cell phone in my pocket.

Heading down to my basement to work out and clear my head, I start with an intense cardio session. Sprinting for a minute and then jogging for thirty seconds. I do this for fifteen minutes and then work on my arms and biceps. Running and lifting helps put questions in my head back into perspective. Things are clearer and I’m able to make better decisions without using my raw emotions.

I work out until my body hits the point of exhaustion. Wiping the sweat from my face and chest, I chug a bottle of water and make my way upstairs.

“Baby!” I look over and see my girlfriend running to me and jumping in my arms. “Oh, you’re so sweaty,” she winks and gives me a kiss.

“Gotta shower. I’ll be down in a little.”

“Sure. Want me to start dinner?” I nod and head upstairs.

Stepping into my shower, I turn on the water faucet and welcome the warm water to travel down my body to relax my muscles. I think about the phone call with my doctor and shake my head. It makes me think about relationships and loyalty. Being in a committed relationship means you’re committed to that person. Sure, temptation is everywhere and some people may act on it, but others who are loyal do not. See where I’m going? Commitment means monogamous. Monogamous means one person, unless there’s an agreement for a threesome and then you’re a lucky son of a bitch. Either way, commitment is to one person and loyalty means not giving in to temptation.

The type of man who remains faithful is the type of man a woman needs in her life. I’m the type who’ll be in a relationship and put my efforts into her. My mother taught me how to treat a woman and my father is the prime example of a gentleman. I’ll treat my woman right, lavish her with gifts, open the doors for her, and make her come at least three times. I may not believe in love or marriage, but I understand women and as long as what I want is laid out for them to understand, they get me. I have rules and a code I live by. This way of life is what keeps me from getting hurt. A broken heart is a bitch to deal with. The emotions that come with a broken heart fucking suck and will eat you alive, leaving you a broken man with barely anything to hold on to. The dream of being happy with
her
is gone in a matter of moments.

I make my rules clear and make no attempts to lead them on. If she doesn’t like it, I won’t chase her or make amends. There’s the door, you can use it the same way you came in. If that’s harsh, then I’m an asshole, but I’m an honest asshole.

Dressing in a plain white tee and basketball shorts I head downstairs and walk into my kitchen to find my girlfriend, Andrea, busy fixing dinner. Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms across my chest, and watch her move around. She’s beautiful, no doubt and she makes me laugh. We have a good relationship because she understands what I want and what I need.

“Smells good in here,” I tell her while grabbing a bottle of white wine and the salad bowl.

“Thanks, baby. I found this honey-glazed chicken recipe online and knew I had to make it for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure. Go sit down!”

“Alright. So how was your day?”

“Good,” she turns to me and smiles. “I went out with Liza for some girl time.”

“Sounds fun. How’s she doing?”

“Really good. We had lunch at
PF Changs
and shopped at
Von Maur.
I saw a few things I liked, but nothing I
loved.
”

“I’m surprised. Usually, you come home with bags full of clothes.”

She shrugs and hands me a plate with chicken, green beans, and red potatoes. “Looks good. Thank you for cooking dinner.”

“Of course, baby,” she leans down and kisses my cheek before taking her seat and continuing her story about her day.

Looking at Andrea across the dinner table, I think about our relationship a little more. It’s been over two years, my longest relationship, and after hearing the news from my doctor, I don’t feel anything deep for her besides my cock in her pussy.

Our chemistry in the bedroom is good and I have no complaints when we fuck and she’s screaming my name. She loves to fuck just as much as I do, and there’s no such thing as making love or slow and sweet. We fuck fast, hard, and dirty. I don’t need the love connection with her or anyone else. My heart doesn’t beat for her and I certainly don’t spend days and nights thinking about her or a future. She’s a warm, hot body and I’m a man who craves sex and control. It’s a basic equation that makes sense. I care about her very much and want us to work out, only liars and cheaters don’t have room in my life.

In the bedroom, we connect. Outside of the bedroom, I look at her and wonder why my dick is stronger than my mind.

In the beginning, things were next to perfect. A beautiful supermodel with a sexy as hell fitness coach. We had the same beliefs about health and our lifestyle, and wanted to live. She made me laugh and spending time with her wasn’t a task; it was something I enjoyed. As time went on, the shift in our relationship slid to the point where I tolerated her and I made excuses to not travel with her or go out. I wanted to have the relationship work out between us and thought about taking her away so we could spend time together.

The phone call this morning changed all of that.

Watching her talk about herself with a whiney voice makes me want to jump into a pile of needles. My dick is scared for his life right now and in hiding. Lucky bastard. But now I have to tell him we’re breaking up and that’s going to be hard. My dick loves her pussy. They connect on a wild and sexy level, but there comes a time when a man needs to let go because the sex isn’t that great to put up with the shit I’m dealing with. I see her lips moving and her hands moving. I’m not sure what she’s saying. Her voice is nagging and gives me a headache. When we’re together, it’s necessary to have a glass of alcohol in my hand or else I’d grab a knife and slice my wrist.

At first, things were great and we got along well. The first year of our relationship, things were on an even keel. We hung out with her friends and mine. We traveled and experienced adventures together. I cared about her deeply and wanted the best for her. She understood what I wanted and never pushed for more. The longer we stayed together the more I noticed subtle changes in her behavior. Things weren’t as carefree like before. I’d come home to find bridal magazines laying around or she’d suggest watching a chick flick and cry when the couple got married. It never occurred to me she wanted more and I never acknowledged those subtle changes. Last Valentine’s Day I bought her a
Pandora
bracelet with all the charms and it was color coordinated with silver, white, and red. After spending a thousand dollars, I had the bracelet wrapped nicely in a box and placed in a gift bag with tissue paper. A limo drove us to dinner at the
Del Monte
and when I gave her the bracelet, the look of slight disappointment hit her face. It was quick and I ignored it. I thought I did a great job picking out the charms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, baby,” she smiles and looks at the new bracelet shining on her wrist. “It’s really beautiful.”

“You look disappointed.”

“No,” she reaches for my hand and the smile on her face gets wider. “I love it.”

Thinking about that night and listening to her talk about Liza’s upcoming wedding, it hits me.

She wants more.

During the years, I’ve changed into a hard man with a cold heart. I never used to be like this, but a broken heart will turn you into a bitter asshole. Love’s for idiots. Love’s a sickness, and when people catch the damn disease, it invades their body and mind. You do stupid shit without thinking, and when it’s over, there’s nothing left besides being alone. When you love, you trust, and when you trust, you become vulnerable. They make you feel things, and then out of nowhere leaves without looking back. So who’s the one left broken?

That euphoric feeling of love and bliss is all lies. By nature, people have motives and will fool you and do anything to make you believe their heart. It’s complex and not worth the time and energy. People say that when the sense of clarity hits your body, and takes your breath away, your life will be better. Who the fuck comes up with that shit? Those are romance words and when it comes to action, no one feels that way. My cold heart doesn’t need or want love. It has had a wall to protect itself for almost four years and it doesn’t plan on letting anyone in.

“So I have to fly to New York City on Monday for business and I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” she tells me, pulling me back to reality as she’s sipping her glass of white wine and leaning back in the chair.

“Okay. I hope you have fun.” I didn’t really care one way or another.

She sighs and places her glass of wine on the table. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Not this time.” I get up from the table and pour myself a glass of whiskey. I need something stronger if I’m going to continue to have a conversation with her.

“Why not? You love the city and I thought maybe we could move there?”

“Why in the hell would I want to move to NYC? I like it here. My friends are here and my business is here.”

“You can work
anywhere
and you said it yourself, Rochester can get really boring. We do the same things every year. At least in New York City we’ll have more opportunities to see more and experience more.”

“Like what?”

She explains the different activities like Broadway shows, concerts, the parks, shopping on Fifth Ave, and she’ll be closer to her agency.

“Not what I want, Andrea.”

“So what are we doing then?”

I roll my eyes and finish my whiskey in one gulp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything is fine and comfortable.”

“That’s it! It’s comfortable. I want more with you. I want to experience more of this life and grow with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into when we got together. I didn’t lie or hold anything back from you.”
Unlike you,
I want to say. Biding my time, I keep my cool and hold back.

“This,” she extends her arms out and stares me down. “We’ve been together for two years and not once have you told me you loved me, or anything along the lines of a couple ready to start a future.”

“What?” My tone is harsh and I need to make sure I heard her correctly. “When did you think I wanted more? I don’t think,” I pause for dramatic effect. “Wait, I know I never said that. We’re together, Andrea. That’s it.” She remains silent, and still her eyes are on me. “There’s nothing more about us. I give you everything you want and
now
you want more.”

“Nice,” she mutters. “How can I not want more? I love you, Troy, and you don’t ever say it back to me. All this time I thought you needed more time to see how good we are for each other. When we’re out, we have fun and when we’re home, things are good between us. Do you know my parents and friends ask me all the time when we’re getting married?”

“Married?” I nearly pass out from the word. If I walk into a church, I’ll be burned alive. If the words
I do
ever come out of my mouth I’ll go ahead and jump off a cliff. The words husband, wife, family, and forever aren’t anywhere near my vocabulary. What the fuck do those words mean? Being twenty-five years old with a successful at-home business, and money to last me for a while, I don’t need someone to attach themselves to me.

“Okay,” she sighs. “You don’t want to get married?”

“No. Andrea, how many times do I have to explain myself? You knew what you were getting into when we first met.”