The Unwritten Rule Read Online Free PDF Page A

heading to my house. “I’m trying to get some dents and improvise the image of the car. Rio and took the sketch pad. - Are you still doing these pencil drawings as last year? - Remember that? “He says, sounding surprised, and looking at me. I do, and I wonder if I should not even know he had a lot of his drawings presented and exhibited at the school last year Dad. I looked at him and told him that I loved when we ended up standing in the lunch line at the same time, but that was last year, and as a non-interested-in-him, you remember I can admit that? I doubt it. I put the drawing pad back to the dashboard and say, “You have some pictures at school, remember? Dad always drags mom and me to look at things. “Yes,” he says. Were mine. You probably do not remember, but I said last year that you liked, and I thought, well, that was really nice of you. He remembers! One of my fingers together trying to avoid shaking. That would not seem very good. - So you still do stuff like that?
    “Yes,” he said. I just made this series of hands. I found all these pictures of my grandparents, my grandmother played the piano and my grandfather’s violin, and his hands when playing, are striking. Just … it’s like they talk to them, as if I could hear the music and want to try to show that “clears his throat. Sorry, I know it’s boring.
     
    I shake my head’s not. I wish I could draw, but a straight line is all that comes out of me. - What about those buckets you do in class? She says, and I examine, surprised and happy that he noticed what I do in class. Especially since we have not been together for a while. “Well, I can draw cubes” I say. Maybe I should quit school. Could travel around the world drawing on things like bridges buckets or benches. My parents could use the money from my college savings. They would love that. He laughs again and says, “Maybe you can get a home at home. Draw cubes in the driveway or something. “Wait, we’re here? “I say, and then quickly added,” I mean, thanks for bringing me home. “It was fun,” says Ryan, a cute thing to say something nice about him, but when I look, a closer look before he returns to the party with my best friend, he is looking like … well, as if he would look at me. As if he loved what he sees, and he is smiling and her eyes are so blue, even in the dim glow of the input light they shine, and the seat moves blindly groping then reached the door handle trying to look away and still not be able to. -Sarah-he says, gently, almost hesitantly, my heart pounding, pounding, and this happens when you want someone you can not have. Love someone you should not even look. This is wrong, very wrong, to be here, but the longing gnawing inside me until it’s all I am until I am a trembling shell swinging toward him. I hear the soft, slow whistle of my seat belt as it extends, the faint echo in my head pounding, pounding on my fingers and my feet, roaring in my ears, and he is so close, then closer still, flicker flashing blue eyes staring before her eyelashes fall further and shake my eyes closed, locking the world. And then we kissed. It is a vast universe, an eternity of his mouth moving against mine softly, slowly scan that makes my insides turn, and I get lost in it, in it, and never return.
     
    Your seat belt creaks as he leans closer, a hand touching my head and hear me breathing, I hear breathing. Two of us, just us two, except that it should not be. He is Brianna, my best friend. -Ryan-my voice comes out like a ball scratching aluminum, and he rests his forehead against mine. His fingers are still touching my hair. I can feel them shaking. -Sarah-he says again, and there is so much sweetness in her voice at him, and I’ve tried it and do it again and again and again until you think of anything else or anyone else. “Sorry,” I say, and he begins to shake her head, her hair so soft against my skin, even touching his forehead to mine, and my heart screaming