#BreakingTheRules: Book 5 of the #BestFriendsForever Series Read online

I tried to shove those thoughts out of my brain and go back to the movie.

  But it was impossible.

  Next, I started thinking about what Wes had said about not reading. That wasn’t a surprise. The only time I saw him crack open a book was to do homework. He’d never been a bookworm like me.

  But a big part of me wished he was. It would take him from dreamy to absolutely perfect.

  In my mind, there was nothing more attractive than a guy who liked to read. Any time I envisioned myself with a boyfriend some day in the future, I imagined that he shared my love for reading.

  And bonus points if they were a Potterhead too.

  Books were such a huge part of my life that it would be a bummer if this wasn’t the case.

  But looking at Wes, he wasn’t either of those things. He was kind and sweet and responsible, all those things any girl would love to have in a guy, but he was missing one of the most important things I was looking for.

  Someone to share in one of the things that made me happy and was such a huge part of who I was.

  None of my friends really liked to read. That was okay. I loved them for so many more reasons, but I wanted someone in life to geek out with.

  To read with and discuss stories with.

  Just like how both Harper and Emerson loved to volunteer at the nursing home. And both Ella and Jesse were determined to go to Georgia Tech. I wanted that special connection to someone too.

  The more I thought about it, the more I decided maybe this was another sign that Wes and I just weren’t meant to be. Lately, that’s what it seemed the universe was trying to say.

  He’s not right for you.

  He’s your brother’s best friend. He doesn’t have the number one thing you’re looking for.

  But even so, my heart ached for Wes. No matter how forbidden he was and how much I wished we had reading in common.

  I felt like such a nerd for thinking that, but a girl could hope, right?

  Another part of me said that there was so much more to Wes than those two things.

  But I knew that it was time I got over him once and for all.

  I bit the inside of my lip. Easier said than done.

  Just then, Hugo came downstairs, grinning as soon as he saw Wes. “Hey, man. Sorry about the wait.”

  Wes slipped my Harry Potter book into his backpack, and I froze.

  Surely, he was just being nice. He wouldn’t really take me up on my suggestion to try the book. Then he stood up, grabbed his backpack, and checked his phone. “If we leave now, we should make it.”

  Hugo stretched and groaned. “I am not looking forward to chem. That professor’s voice always puts me to sleep.”

  With that, they grabbed their stuff and headed to the front door. Wes gave me one final wave, and I smiled from the couch.

  Hugo headed to his car, but Wes turned one last time at the front door. “Is it okay if I take your book? I just realized, if you’re reading it—” he began.

  “I have another one,” I said, still sure he was just being polite.

  He grinned. “You have another one?” he said with a laugh.

  Sure I was turning a bright shade of red, I stuttered, “There are…reasons,” I replied.

  Mostly nerd reasons, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Still looking amused, he finally left, shutting the door behind him, and I exhaled.

  The thought of my copy of Sorceror’s Stone in Wes’s backpack had me smiling like a fool, but I didn’t care.

  If I had to bet on it, I’d say he wasn’t likely to actually read it, but just knowing that he now had one of my most prized possessions made me feel just a little bit closer to him.

  Like the beginning of a connection, and one that didn’t involve my brother.

  I reminded myself that it meant nothing.

  I bit my lip.

  Nothing.

  Right?

  Five

  I’d all but forgotten about the Sorceror’s Stone book and any hope of ever seeing it again when an Instagram notification popped up on my phone.

  Nothing new about an Instagram notification.

  Except this one was from Wes.

  On a Tuesday night at almost eleven o’clock. I should have been asleep an hour ago, but as usual, my latest stack of library books had me up way past my bed time.

  And now I couldn’t stop wondering what was in my inbox.

  Wes never messaged me. We didn’t even have each other’s numbers. That would have been weird. There was no reason for me to have his number or vice versa.

  I opened the message, and sure enough, it was from him.

  Wes: Guess what? :)

  My stomach lurched. I couldn’t believe his words were right there. This was definitely a first.

  Rey: What? :)

  What could he possibly be messaging me about?

  Wes: I started reading the book.

  Just like that, Wes had me grinning like an idiot. I rolled over onto my stomach so I could type better, not even sure what to say.

  Rey: Really?? What page are you on?!

  I laughed to myself, knowing how much of a nerd I had to sound like to him.

  Wes: 47. I can’t stop now. This is all your fault :)

  I screamed into my pillow then. This could not be happening.

  I jumped out of bed and grabbed my remaining copy of Sorceror’s Stone, flipping immediately to page 47.

  The Keeper of the Keys!

  I may or may not have shrieked like a banshee.

  Then I saw I had another message from Wes.

  Wes: I still can’t believe I’m reading this book, by the way. I’m not sure I’ve ever read any book ever. Not counting picture books in third grade. Lol. But I like that this is kind of funny and the magic is kind of cool too.

  Rey: Lol. You’re in college. Don’t you have assigned reading and stuff?

  Wes sent back a side glance emoji and I sent back a laughing one.

  So Hugo wasn’t the only one who skipped the class reading. Apparently, it was a joint effort.

  Rey: But yeah :) the magic is definitely cool. Just wait until you get to the next book.

  And the next. And the next, I wanted to say.

  Wes: I’ll just be surprised if I can finish this one. I don’t care what you say. It’s still a lot of pages.

  Rey: Just watch. It’ll become more and more impossible to put down. Especially when Harry gets to Hogwarts :)

  I had to sound like the biggest nerd ever—and to Wes!—but I didn’t care.

  He had messaged me. Actually messaged me. About Harry Potter.

  This had to be a dream.

  But the way goosebumps rose up my arms and made me shiver and how my stomach kept doing flips…that didn’t happen in dreams.

  Wes: What have you done to me? Lol. Cast a spell maybe?

  That had me giggling and standing up to jump in bed. I landed criss-cross when I realized his room was just across from mine.

  And my curtains were open.

  Uh oh.

  If Wes had seen me jumping on my bed like a schoolgirl… I would never live it down.

  His blinds were closed for the night, though. Phew!

  I hopped off my bed and went over to close my curtains.

  As I stood there, staring at Wes’s window, I couldn’t help but think about how close he was. Just a few feet away. Even though I couldn’t see him or hear him, it made me smile all the same, knowing I was on his mind right at that moment.

  I closed my curtains once and for all, turning and heading back to bed.

  Boy, did I have a blog post to write tomorrow.

  Turning the boy next door, the one I had crushed on forever, into a Potterhead.

  Dreams did come true.

  * * *

  The blog post went up the next day after school. Hitting publish had me smiling all over again at our conversation.

  Through my yawns from staying up way too late the night before…

  The excitement of kn
owing Wes had been up too—reading my favorite series!—had not let me sleep for hours. Too much excitement.

  And I knew there had to be another Potterhead high school girl out there who could relate.

  So far my blog, #StoryOfMyLife, was relatively unknown. I’d shared some snippets and quotes on tumblr and that had driven some traffic over, but for the most part, it was just one girl posting her truths to the universe.

  I was more than fine with my blog never getting tons of hits. It was mostly just for me. Not even the #BFFs knew about it.

  Technically, it was public, and anybody could find it, but really, it felt like another journal. It was anonymous, it contained my deepest truths and thoughts, and I wanted it to stay that way. No way could I keep writing my most innermost thoughts if I knew that people I knew were reading it.

  Even if it was Harper, Ella, Lena, and Tori. So many things were just hard to say out loud, even share from a screen.

  Besides, one day I could change my mind and give them the website. It would all be there. But for now, #StoryOfMyLife was just mine.

  I closed my laptop and set it aside, curling back up on the couch with my book.

  Today I was in the mood for historical fiction instead of the usual fantasy and contemporary stuff I tended to go for.

  My mom came in through the front door, a yoga mat rolled up under her arm. “Hey, honey. Did you get your homework done?”

  I yawned. “Not yet. I will, though.”

  She looked like she wanted to chide me for not getting started on my assignments, but it was nice when she didn’t. She knew I was pretty good about keeping my grades decent.

  Besides, I needed to veg out for a while after school. I was peopled out. Class discussions, maneuvering around people in the hallways, talking to the #BFFs, listening to teachers all day…it wore me out. And I usually needed a short nap to recover before I could even think of tackling stuff like homework.

  Or chores.

  My stomach rumbled for a snack, but I was way too cozy under my blanket to move so I let my eyes flutter closed instead. My book fell to the floor, but instead of grabbing it, I pulled the blanket closer around me instead.

  How was this couch more comfortable than my own bed?

  Those were my last thoughts before I drifted into an easy slumber in the living room.

  The doorbell jarred me awake, and my head immediately hurt.

  Ugh. Talk about getting interrupted in the middle of a sleep cycle.

  I blinked my eyes until they adjusted to the afternoon light coming in through the window.

  The doorbell rang again.

  I groaned. Did no one else live here?

  Better yet, did everyone assume I was the butler of this house?

  My mom’s voice called from the kitchen. “Can you guys get that?” she yelled.

  Of course, none of my brothers bothered to come down and get the door.

  I threw my blanket off, immediately regretting it as my body shivered.

  Then I walked like a zombie to the front door. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  I opened the door and there was Wes.

  He took one look at me and grinned, looking apologetic. “Sorry if I woke you…”

  Sure my eyes were now as wide as saucers, I shook my head and stuttered. “No—uh, you didn’t—come in,” I finished, trying to placate my hair. It had to be going in every direction. I knew what my bedhead looked like, and it was not pretty.

  Wes stepped inside, and I recalled our last conversation.

  He turned to face me, his hands in his pockets, looking like he wanted to say something.

  “How’s the book coming along?” I said.

  Wes glanced down. “It’s good,” he replied. “I can see why this book is your favorite.”

  I smiled. “That one’s not even my favorite. It’s usually book 4 or book 7.”

  “I bet,” he said. Then he looked a little more serious. “Listen, uh, do you know if your brother is ready to go? If we don’t leave in a coupe minutes, we’ll be late to class.”

  I deflated like a balloon.

  He must have sensed it because Wes immediately grimaced and said, “Sorry, we’re running late and—”

  I began up the stairs, taking one quick glance back at him and avoiding his eyes. “I’ll go get him.”

  By the time I reached Hugo’s room, I just wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.

  Why did I have to go and get my hopes up?

  So what if Wes had decided he wanted to give Harry Potter a try? If he was actually liking the book?

  That didn’t mean he was suddenly in love with me.

  Or cared about me in any way that was more than his friend’s bookworm sister.

  Sometimes I really hated my overactive imagination.

  It painted things that weren’t really there, only for the canvas to be ripped away when reality came along.

  I knocked on Hugo’s door, still annoyed with myself. “Wes is waiting for you. He says you’re going to be late.”

  Instead of going back downstairs, I headed to my room.

  I did not want to face Wes right now.

  For once, homework actually sounded appealing. Struggling to solve math problems sounded way better than struggling to keep it together in front of Wes.

  I took a seat at my desk and leaned down to grab my backpack.

  Movement outside caught my eye, and I scooted my chair a little closer to the window.

  Wes and Hugo jogged to Wes’s car, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. They were laughing about something.

  I turned back to my book bag, slowly rolling my chair back to my desk.

  Sometimes I really wished that this epic crush was on any other guy besides Wes.

  Seeing him all the time, being around him, and keeping my feelings in check had never been more difficult.

  Liking any other guy right now sounded way better than forever wishing I had any sort of chance with Wes.

  Six

  Long after my Harry Potter marathon was over, I retreated back into my journal.

  After quite a depressing blog post about how Wes would forever be out of my reach, I went back to pencil and paper.

  And staying inside my own head.

  I could go hours—days—without talking to anyone, and I was perfectly fine with that.

  At school, I had the #BFFs, but even they noticed I was more quiet than usual.

  At home, it was my mom who was the first to notice when I turned to words to escape.

  Sometimes it was reading for hours on end, but most of the time, it was writing.

  Poems. Journal entries. Drawings. All of the above.

  When the real world around me felt like too much, with Mrs. Moreau’s constant talk about college, the #BFFs’ wondering what college life was like, and the pain of Wes never seeing me like I saw him, my journal became the place to go to.

  After a while, my mom stopped her cleaning and cooking and essential oil hacks and sat down next to me.

  My knees were drawn up to my chest so I could keep working on my current sketch.

  Which may or may not have been of Wes.

  I quickly flipped the page and looked up at my mom.

  She smiled. “Hey, there,” she said. “You’ve been quiet lately. How was school?”

  I gave her a press-lipped smile. “Good. No homework this weekend,” I said, anticipating her next question.

  She nodded, her hands in her lap. “Oh. You should come to yoga with me this weekend. I think you’d like it. Get out of the house, you know. Unless you have plans with your friends?” she prodded.

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. But thanks, mom.” I exhaled, staring down at the blank page in front of me.

  My mom sighed. “We could also schedule a college visit? Think about possible majors? Research scholarships?” she tried.

  I bit my lip so I wouldn’t grimace.

  “You turned in th
ose college applications, right? Have you heard back?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “Okay,” my mom said with a small smile. “I’m sure you will soon.”

  I nodded, biting my lip again.

  My friends were all excited to hear back and find out what opportunities life had in store for them.

  Meanwhile, I felt like I was at a crossroads, couldn’t read the sign posts because they were in a foreign language, and had no idea where I was supposed to go.

  My mom patted my shoulder. “Well, try not to stress about it. You’ve got plenty of time and plenty of choices. We’ll be with you every step of the way, okay?”

  I gave her the best smile I could. “Thanks, mom.”

  I just wanted to figure out why I wasn’t excited about heading off to college like everyone else. It felt like there was something wrong with me. Like how I didn’t quite fit in at school, never had. Even with the #BFFs. I was simply different. Would I always feel this way?

  My mom must have sensed something was up because she said, “Honey, if you’re worried about moving out or going to school far away, you don’t have to, okay? I know maybe your friends have plans to go to school a few hours away, but you can do whatever feels right to you. Look at your brother. And Wes. They’re going to college just half an hour away, still living at home. There’s no pressure for you grow up so quickly, okay?”

  I thought about all that, wondered if that was what I wanted. “Yeah,” I said, even though it just made the future even more murky. I closed my journal and got up. “I think I’ll go lay down. I’m kind of tired.”

  She pursed her lips, but instead of saying anything else, she wrapped her arm around me. “Okay, pumpkin. Let me know if you need anything.”

  With that, I grabbed my stuff and headed upstairs. I crawled into bed and stared out my window toward Wes’s room. After a while, I turned to face the other way, where my posters hung on the wall. There were a few Harry Potter ones, including the final movie poster. Another one with a J.K. Rowling quote that said, “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

  One of my favorites, and it made me smile to read it then.

  It was true. I just had to remember to turn on the light. Not focus on Wes so much. Not panic about where I’d be in a year, if I’d ever figure out who I was supposed to be.