[Rilee; Unwritten Rules by Jaz Karis]

FIVE: when you break all your unwritten rules.

The smell of coffee brewing was what woke me up.

Stronger than normal especially after a night out. Izzy never used the coffee pot, really. He was obsessed with making homemade coffee. It was the barista in him, he refused it any other way and when we got fucked up, he never had the energy the next morning.

He was a morning person though, I wasn't a big fan of that. He kept this chipper attitude whenever he woke up even if it was often subdued for my sake.

I heard soft laughter. Chatter muffled in hard flooring, the door was on the wrong side of the room. My eyes caught onto a bedside table, ornate detailing on the legs, blurry in my line of sight. The moment I sat up, there was an ache in my back.

My head was throbbing, brain rattling around behind my skull and my lips were dry when I licked over them.

Shutting my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath, trying to ignore the pulsing headache. The door was partially open, sound creeping in.

Blowing out a deep breath, I tried to stretch, bones cracking. Light poured in through an open window, and I reached for my glasses carefully placed on the nightstand.

My lower back was throbbing and this room wasn't mine.

I was naked though, I often slept naked. Not fully but not clothed, there was a pair of boxers clinging to my body, orange blush stretched out over white pillows, and I didn't even want to look around.

I could hear laughter, it faint, distant and I rubbed my temples, thinking back to what had happened the night before.

Moments like this always made me regret every choice I made that led up to it. It say heavy on my chest, I screwed my eyes shut, shifting to stand but not having the energy. Hanging my head in between my legs, I tried to recount the night.

I never blacked out, that just wasn't something I did but I was having trouble remembering what happened after we'd left the club.

I hadn't been wearing this, that much was clear, I didn't remember the last time I'd worn anything but briefs. This was Isaiah's room, these were probably Isaiah's boxers and my heart sank when I realized what that meant.

There was a buzzing under my skin when it hit me and I gasped out a breath, blinking back a burning behind my eyes. Sucking in a shaky breath, I tried to remember.

And I sat there for ten minutes, cold, my throat closed up. Something I hated about myself was how easily I shut down. It was something that everyone who'd ever tried to get close to me mentioned whenever things got... emotional.

I wasn't good at it, I hated it honestly. I hated being vulnerable around anyone but family, because family was something different. My mother had to care when I cried, my mother would care. No one else in the world, who wasn't obligated to care, was supposed to be inclined to take the time and find out if I was okay.

And that was fine, it was natural, it was human nature.

It was life. We came in alone, we died alone. Even if we find love, the one we've searched for and our love stories are for the history books... Abuelita was dying alone.

And it was sad, even if it wasn't supposed to be. Everything in her culture, in our culture, took sadness out of death.

No one ever talked about that point where you find yourself cursing God, cursing whoever for the pain that kept you up at night.

Those nights I'd find solace in the bottom of a bottle, exuberantly unhappy but faking it cause it numbed. No one spoke of these moments of grief, no one in my family really. I was expected to accept her death before she'd even seen the inside of her fucking casket.

But I was blanking now, twisting burnt orange sheets in my fingers and blowing a breath out slowly.

Maybe not caring that other people didn't, was thick skin from years of YouTube commenters telling me to kill myself.

And Milo telling me he wished I was dead. Something about the way that I became me, made it easy to brush things off, to brush people off. I'd never had any qualms with letting go of my past.

It never bothered me, it was what it was.

Except for this.

I tried to self-reflect often, tried to sit down and figure out why I reacted to things the way that I did. My throat closed up with no intention of speaking to anyone.

Being with Julian, it reminded me that problems manifested when you didn't confront them head on, and they ate you alive. My body was closing in on itself and I knew myself enough to know that there wouldn't be a deep conversation that day.

So, I made the bed. I pulled it together fully, going the extra mile to replace Isaiah's throw pillows in that carefully chaotic way he liked and I started on my day.

Traveling to the other side of the house, not acknowledging the people in the kitchen was easy. The soft giggling hadn't faltered, they wouldn't hear me.

Conversation was loud enough, Rilee was laughing harder than that time we met Seth Meyers and I remembered how adamant she was on Isaiah being hot. I did remember when we were getting ready the night before, she would make comments about him being so attractive.

Brushing blush over my nose, she asked if I liked him at all the second I couldn't avoid her gaze. And truthfully, I didn't know if I liked Izzy, I knew that we had fun.

I knew that he was fun but I didn't have much interest in anything more than that. Rilee always wanted a relationship, that was something I understood in a way.

She was a romantic and she didn't do anything without intention.

And the time they had together this morning, it was probably enough to cement a crush. Maybe that was better for everyone.

I brushed my teeth, bypassing the bed that Rilee had sloppily pulled together. Yanking Isaiah's underwear down my legs and tossing it in the hamper, I went for a shower.

I felt dirty, something about this felt almost like a violation and I hated how I felt like that.

: : :

After what felt like an hour of scrubbing my body clean, my eyes analyzed a moving portrait.

Deep browns rimmed red, at some point in my shower, I'd started crying. I was crying so much recently. I could feel the hangover in my ears, lightening up. Grabbing my glasses, I readjusted to full vision, raking my eyes down my body.

And there were marks all over my skin, some slight bruises around my waist, some on my neck. The sex wasn't gentle to say the least, it never really was. Isaiah wasn't very stimulated by the slow stuff, he liked passion, being desperate for it and chasing euphoria.

He gripped harder, he held tighter, he'd bite at my shoulder while fucking back. I knew that was how I was too and Jules was never really into being aggressive, he was very passive when he topped, he needed constant reassurance at first and it'd turn into me in control.

He'd brush against my sweaty skin after, more apologetic than need be as if it wasn't absolutely phenomenal. He'd ask if it was good, ask if I enjoyed it, smile against my skin when I asked for round two.

Isaiah was dominant. I didn't remember the night before but I figured it would have been no different.

And something in my chest felt empty because the feeling was different, we'd now crossed every boundary I'd set up.

I settled for throwing on sweats. My curls were wet, sticking to my forehead and I didn't care enough to do much but squeeze in a bit of product.

Usually, I curled my hair around my fingers, I blow dried it so product didn't drip down my neck in the chill of my apartment. I hated that, the temperature never really reaching above 75 and Isaiah was always warm.

But my skin was clammy, the humidity sticking to me as I stood in the fog post-shower; my stomach was in knots. I felt weak almost and I hated the shaking of my fingers when they clamped around the rounded edges of the sink.

I sucked in a harsh breath.

Seconds later, I pulled myself together, ignoring the nausea. I walked through shaky knees and a pulsing headache and made my way to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.

There was a half-wall that blocked off the areas between kitchen and living, something I was actually kind of grateful for when the apartment felt a bit too tight. The chirp of laughter was strong, the smell of coffee brewing even stronger and Rilee was never subtle with her flirting.

Sitting down on the barstool, I pushed back the partition and offered a smile.

Her hand was on a buff forearm, eyes staring up at my roommate with amusement as he described something so-Isaiah, like how to make the perfect muffins from scratch.

It felt like I was imposing and I hated how quickly my thoughts turned resentful.

Conversation slowed, Rilee's eyes flitting to me and I watched Isaiah's lips curl up into a smile.

"There's the man of the hour." That was odd and as usual, I rolled my eyes. Isaiah rolled his as well in reciprocation, corners of his eyes scrunching up as his smile seemingly go even wider.

He was always in such a good mood.

I swallowed back anger, not knowing where to place it, trying not to acknowledge that I knew exactly what it meant. He'd been inside me the night before and now he was sitting here chatting up my best friend.

Rilee giggled at the interaction.

"Coffee?" He offered, already pouring some into a cup and when I nodded, he slid it across the counter. I was a black coffee type in the mornings, especially with hangovers, something about the caffeine helped the headache and I was sipping shallowly at the full mug when Rilee leant over the counter.

I took in what she was wearing, one of my large paint shirts, it sliding off her shoulder, I could see her nipples through the thin fabric and I knew it was absentminded but Isaiah's hazel eyes were fighting to linger. When we shared a room, her comfortability levels often shot through the roof. She always had something of mine on, something that often pissed off any boyfriend she'd briefly had before Brandon.

And Rilee was a pretty girl, that much was obvious. Maroon, bushy curls fluffed out as if it were effortless, toffee skin stretched over a taut hourglass shape, it was so obvious that my roommate could not keep his eyes off of her.

My cousin Alexa would call her desperate.

Rilee was looking in my eyes, leant close. I wasn't sure why I thought that of her and I regretted it.

"Isaiah thinks we're in love cause we make out when we're drunk." She offered through a blueberry muffin she'd plucked from out cake tin. Isaiah made them weekly, and it was obvious they'd both massacred them.

"I didn't say love."

"Okay, some underlying infatuation, whatever." They were both smiling though, as if they were both on the same page and it really irritated me.

Bluntly, she offered a look. "Basically, he thinks we're gonna fuck."

"You literally asked for a threesome last night."

Rilee rolled her eyes, promptly. "You're telling me that in the easiest century for meaninglessness hookups that you've never just wanted to fuck a friend because they're hot?"

"So, you wanna fuck Paul?"

A stare down ensued, their eyes narrowed at each other and normally, I'd have stifled a smile.

"No, I don't wanna fuck Paul!" She exclaimed incredulously before looking over at me and offering raised brows. "Unless he's into it."

And that made me crack a smile, Isaiah's face morphed into confusion when my best friend leant forward and planted a kiss on my lips.

She played it up for my roommate's confusion, amusement glimmering in her eyes when she bit at the air around my nose nuzzling her freckled one against mine.

It made me think of clubbing, of pretending to be her boyfriend so men wouldn't try.

I played along, knowing that something would seem off if I didn't reciprocate. She knew me too well.

Isaiah's shocked face when she dared a look at him, it sent her into a fit of laughter and she was patting my chest.

"Picasso here is very gay, trust me." And she was propping herself up on our counter, crossing toned legs and picking at her muffin. Dainty feet covered by half socks, an anklet dangling. Everything about her was so feminine.

And she was sighing. "I've tried."

That was a lie.

"You have not tried."

She almost sounded offended then, and I went to pluck off a piece of the muffin in her hands. It was good, everything Isaiah made was.

"I have so!"

But I honestly didn't remember a time that Rilee and I weren't both completely aware that I was extremely gay. "When?" We met through Brandon, and at that point in our friendship, I almost always had his dick in my hand.

"Carlos' party junior year."

And that was so not plausible. The entire night I was trying to work up the courage to talk to Carlos Vera, a senior, holding onto the idea that he was gay because I could've sworn I'd seen a guy with the same tattoo he had on his left pectoral... on Grindr.

And Carlos Vera was very fucking hot.

"Remember, I got drunk off my ass and tried to sleep with you."

And, no, I didn't remember that.

I did remember Rilee being drunk. I remembered holding her hair back in the bathroom and helping her fix her curls into a cute little bun when she'd started crying over being a complete mess.

Walking her to her friend's place and waiting until she got in but I didn't remember her coming onto me.

"You were trying to sleep with me?"

Her eyes were wide then and she was nodding, legs crossed and hand smacking onto the bar. "I had the biggest crush on you!"

Isaiah's amused smirk was hidden in a mug. "Then you were fucking B and then you started dating Nic and I was like oh, he's gay gay."

"Bull..." absolute bull. I knew when people were into me.

"Ask Lanny." And I was definitely going to. "Everyone we've ever met has had a crush on you, Paul."

"That is definitely an exaggeration."

She was rattling off names then. "Patrick from PVK, Javier, Davie, B, Carlos... everyone at some point has wanted you, babe."

And I'd slept with almost all of them. I hated that about me, that every man who'd shown me affection before...  had ended up down my throat.

I hated how easy I was.

I'd slept with Patrick at Vidcon, not even because I was into him. Javier and I had a fling shortly after Nic and I split, Brandon... I'd made out with Davie, the pastor's kid, in the confessional at church.

Rilee must've mistook my silence for shock but there were tears burning my eyes and I blinked them back with a laugh.

"I didn't tell you?"

Shaking my head, I grabbed for another piece of her muffin and in that time, I could feel Isaiah's eyes on the side of my face.

When I looked at him though, his attention was back on Rilee, smile curling at his lips. "Probably cause you were tryna sleep with Paul."

"Dude, Carlos dm'd me after graduation asking if you were single." She'd hopped off the counter then beelining towards our fridge. "You were dating Nic so I said no." She called over her shoulder.

It was nearing noon I was sure, my stomach growling. I didn't eat much the night before, Isaiah was very adamant on making a full meal before we left so we didn't get wasted too quickly and I wasn't hungry.

I'd been avoiding a talk then, trying not to give Rilee any ammo to question my choices again. And she was tugging all of the deli meat out of our fridge, Isaiah handed her an Italian roll. "He goes to Tech, DM him."

I'd blanked for a second, not knowing what she meant until she'd spun around on her toes, phone in one hand mustard and mayo slotted between fingers in her other hand and she was scrolling through Instagram.

She'd sat her phone down in front of me, turning to move all the materials she'd need for a sandwich to the bar.

I'd peered down, eyes instantly meeting a 6-pack. That tattoo sat on his chest, hair nicely trimmed, a scripture around a cross. Another cross hung from his neck and his face was still so hot.

"Should I?" I hadn't talked to anyone in a while really, I remembered him being really sweet.

And I didn't wanna sleep with Izzy again.

"Duh." Isaiah busied himself slicing through his own roll. Peering over at Rilee's phone, he shrugged.

"He is hot."

"Right?"

I didn't know why I actually thought I'd care about hearing his perspective but my mood deflated, the little it had lightened.

Rilee was laughing again, knife slicing through her sandwich and she slid her plate across the bar, offering me half.

"Or, you know, if you do ever wanna switch over..." she wiggled her brows, taking a bite, "you know try a... different forbidden fruit. I've heard I taste like cherries."

We both stifled a laugh then and she was definitely trying to provoke a reaction from Izzy.

"So you do wanna sleep with me?"

"Always, baby."

She was rounding the bar then, plopping in a seat next to me and I chuckled at the fact that this probably resembled Izzy's job to a T.

Rilee saw it as well and she was licking eyes with the man in front of us. "Bartender, mimosa please."

He offered a deadpan, pretty smile reaching hazel eyes. I tried to ignore how fast it made my heart beat."You tippin'?"

"If you earn it."

He was turning to pour drinks, on cue, cause he loved it.

"I know you be putting it down if that little limp Jules used to walk around with has anything to say."

It was quiet for a good second after and Rilee must've sensed it cause when Isaiah slid our drinks over going to pour his own, she sent me a look.

My eyes blew wide a bit, I sucked in a breath and we all felt the tension of the night prior. It was becoming very obvious that she didn't really know about anything that happened in this house and Isaiah was biting the inside of his cheek as he always did when he had something to say.

"And on that note, you're going home."

"I thought we were all sex positive here?" "I can't be friends with people that are anti-hoe."

Isaiah was barking out a laugh then, and he went to cover his mouth with his hand. Rilee was always so good at that, I envied it. She always knew what to say in the moment.

I hated how cute I actually found his fighting the humor. He bit his tongue teasingly, offering me the last muffin in some show of peace. Izzy never really held a grudge.

The moment of awkward was gone, Rilee was poking at my side. "DM him, see where it goes."

: : :

Julian's voice becoming more outspoken was something I took pride in. At the beginning of our relationship, he'd always been so timid on the phone but as we got closer, I realized just how chatty he actually was.

That wasn't something you'd expect. He was often reserved when it came to new people but in his friend groups, he'd light up. When he felt comfortable, Julian would talk a mile a minute, he'd play music loudly and when I'd make a comment, he'd offer a sheepish smile because he was never completely aware.

My love was never all that aware of how much space he took up, he filled so much of my life, I didn't realize it until he was gone.

And he was so good at meeting people, even if he didn't think so himself, he was personable. He made friends quickly when he tried, he was someone that people flocked to when he decided to like himself.

On our road trip, he talked my ear off, whether it had been about the bodies of water we rode past, some fact he'd learned off Twitter, the story of how he dislocated his shoulder when he was twelve...

My love was loud, he was excited about the little things.

He had zest for life, that was something I loved about him. The highs were always so high, his excitement pierced through; his happiness was always so fulfilling, it bloomed in my chest.

And his emotions were always so consuming in the moment, when they hit, he'd feel with everything in him.

He was never really good at hiding it either, he wore his heart on his sleeve even if it were broken.

And I loved that about him, how intensely he loved. How intense he was when he felt something was wrong, he was always so demanding when I made him a bit nervous.

And his voice was so soft when I'd picked up the phone.

"Pablo?" Fuck.

He always got me with that, it always made me weak. I fucking loved the way his tongue rolled when my name fell out, he said it correctly, he called my name the way my mother did.

And it was disappointed the way my mother's often was.

I bit my lip and I wasn't sure why his tone made me nervous. "Hey."

He sighed, I could feel it in my own chest. It was heavy and angry and his words were harsh, voice hard. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," that was confusing and I didn't know why he was acting like that but I went to check my texts. "I'm-I'm fine, Julian, what—"

"You don't remember calling me last night?"

I don't remember a lot of things I did last night.

"What?"

And he sounded sad but there was an edge to it. I knew where this was going. "You-you were crying. You... you said you went out, and uh-you-you asked me to stay on the phone until you fell asleep."

"You know, you-you-you called me drunk when I was finally getting over you-"

And his voice was broken, words shaky. I'd never been more sure that we couldn't go back. I knew it hurt him, it was obvious the day after when I called him back.

I'd tried to apologize and he sounded so done with me. His hurt had turned into anger when realizing I was alright.

I never heard him so upset with me, we never argued really, that was something I loved about us. Whenever we had problems that weren't detrimental to our relationship, we always tried to talk it through.

Jules was never that pissed at me. I'd thanked him for checking on me and he was so short with his reply. He'd made up some excuse about having to study and hung up shortly after.

I didn't hear from him again.

And now he was sitting in front of me and I guess I never realized how much my problems hurt him.

"I know..."

He was shaking his head and all the effort he spent trying to seem okay was gone. California was taking a toll on him, lonely was too and I didn't know how to help.

"You don't know." My heart dropped, tears were streaming down his face and I didn't know what else I could say. "You don't know how fucking easy it was to believe you."

It was silent and I tried to retrace my steps the night before. I didn't really remember getting home let alone calling Julian and I didn't remember sleeping with Isaiah.

"I don't..."

"You don't remember." It was incredulous, his tone, I pictured him rolling green eyes. His voice was choked on the end but stayed strong, his eyes would be glossed over, brighter. They always were when he cried.

"It was one night." I promised.

"That you don't remember."

"Jules."

Maybe it was the tears in my voice that stopped him because he paused. I could tell it took him by surprise.

His voice was softer, that gentle tone he had when the days felt too long. "Why are you drinking?" It made my throat close up. Julian always had this look in his eyes when I started moving sluggishly. When my work proved too demanding, he'd kiss me chastely... hold me while somber turned so content.

I'd be overwhelmed with all the work I had done and all the work I had left and in an instant, the stress dissipated.

And I'd be consumed with him and that peppermint shampoo he used.

"I-If you wanna talk, I'm here."

But he wasn't here. He was across the country and I was disrupting him, again. And he'd already told me this wasn't okay, he already voiced how much me not controlling myself was hurting him.

I promised him time and time again that I wouldn't do this.

"I barely even drink, Jules, okay?" As the days went by, that started to feel less true. "I'm fine."

He was silent. Maybe it was the Gemini in him but he always had something to say about everything... when something or someone pissed him off, it showed on his face.

When I upset him, he would try his best not to speak, knowing that our arguments often had quick resolution and I wasn't good with yelling. He'd be so loud and then immediately decide it wasn't that important.

Jules would roll his eyes at me, tucking his arms over a broad chest. He'd look down and it always succeeded in making me feel bad.

This was different but somehow still the same and I could almost hear him pouting into the phone.

Something about it made my heart race.

But he was quiet for far too long and I knew he was disappointed in me. "I'm going to meetings." I'd been saying it to myself for weeks, communicating it to someone else would help.

"You are?"

"Yeah." And I lied. "Yeah- yeah, I'm-I've been going for three weeks."

It reminded me of old habits.

Jules' voice was a mix of the same worry but it had a twinge of hope on the end. "Three weeks?" Maybe it was Rilee rubbing off on me but I could nearly read his emotions.

And I knew what to say next. I remembered dodging the conversation the same way with Pete, the same with my mom after I moved out, when I came over occasionally for dinners.

I remembered moving in with Nic, at seventeen. Sleeping under him at night and travelling to the Lighthouse, filming twice a week.

We didn't have a set schedule back then, it was all just parties and bars doing stupid shit. Before Rilee was a permanent addition, and the boys and I made stupid Tumblr and reckless skating videos, it was all kind of easy and I was in love.

I always did fall completely.

"Yeah. Yeah, I visited my Abuelita after coming to see you and I was struggling with keeping it, you know, together."

"Oh."

"Yeah." I went past my limits because I was stressed. It was one time. I always knew when to call it. "I'm-I'm sorry for calling you."

"Don't be." He was smiling, I could tell from the tone. It was slight, lightly embedded in his words. "I'm still your friend, right?"

It wasn't on purpose, we were trying this friend thing but it was the first time he'd called, and i was pressing the phone closer to my ear, there were tears rolling down my face now. "You just- you never cry. I didn't know what to do... I almost called your mom."

I winced. That tone she'd offer, the angry Spanish she'd let rip if she found out I wasn't taking care of myself again. And I was. I was fine. I was in my apartment and sitting on my own bed.

His breath was shaky and it made my chest tighten. He was worried, anxious, and I hated that I made him feel this way.

"Remember how Rilee likes to watch movies that make people cry?" I laughed, knowing that would get him. "She made me sit through Moonlight and Casablanca last night."

He laughed. "Yeah, what is that?"

"I don't know but according to her, no good movie is a good movie if the characters you love the most don't literally die."

He was laughing and I wanted to bury myself in the sound.

"I'm coming home." He offered, backtracking as if he could take back the hope in his voice. "For-for the summer."

I was hopeful too for a second. Every time the idea that he'd be bear arose, joy bloomed in my chest.

"Oh."

"Yeah." I pictured him blushing, scratching the back of his neck and looking down with a smile in true Jules fashion. "Yeah, Ben and I we-we're supposed to be getting a place."

"Isn't Ben in the army?"

I didn't expect that. I expected him to give California another try, Julian wasn't a quitter.

But he sounded better. Even if it were over the phone, he sounded good. Like him, I missed this part of him, how determined he really was.

"Honestly? I don't know." His voice sounded light and he didn't sound stressed for the first time in so long. "He was real off about it when he asked if I wanted to be his roommate."

"And you're getting a place in Brighton?"

"Uh, no, Indiana." That made my heart jump out of my chest. "Gary." I could hear the embarrassment in his voice when he continued. "Ben likes it cause... well, cause, Spongebob."

"I can't believe you let him talk you into that."

"Yeah." His voice had a softness to it and warmth was soaking through my chest. It was bashful, it always kinda was. "He didn't have to... the semester's gonna be over... I wanna take a year off and figure my life out. I don't know where I wanna live."

"It's half an hour from me." And I didn't know why I acknowledged it. His voice hitched and I hated this awkward phase we were in.

"Yeah." He answered a question I didn't even have to ask. "Yeah, maybe we can hang out or something."

"Cool."

***

A/N:

Don't have much shit to say but my roommate's dog ran away tonight so we spent 45 minutes driving around Atlanta looking for her. But she's home and I'm finally liking Paul's POV.

Updated: Thurs. August 27th | Thursday Sep. 3rd

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