Until We Meet Again (Breaking the rules Book 1), page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Lea Rose
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover: www.coversbyjules.crd.co
Developmental Editing by Sara-Jane Higgins (Kat's Literary Services)
Copy and Line Editing by Steph White (Kat's Literary Services)
Proofreading by Vanessa Esquibel (Kat's Literary Services)
Trigger Warnings
Grief & loss depiction
Death from cancer
Playlist
Only Girl (in The World) – Rihanna
Carry on Wayward Son – Neoni
Older – Isabel LaRosa
Make Me Feel – Elvis Drew
Hey Daddy (Daddy's Home) – Usher
Lose Control – Teddy Swims
Secrets – Omido
A Drop in the Ocean – Ron Pope
If You Love Her – Forest Blakk
Lover (Remix) – Taylor Swift, Shawn Mendes
To all those waiting for an epic love, hold on, be patient, and never settle for the bare minimum.
You deserve overflowing love and butterflies.
Chapter 1
Tessa
I'm exactly where I want to be—at home, avoiding people. I'm cozied up in my pink reading chair, losing myself in a story about a girl who falls in love with her brother's best friend—a trope I adore. Honestly, any book that allows me to escape into my own little world of passion and desire is my kind of thing. Give me all the angst!
Nothing—literally nothing in life—makes me happier than reading about a man whose love for his girl is so all-consuming that he would willingly set the world on fire to keep her by his side. However, because of these fictional men, my list of book boyfriends grows longer by the day. As do my unrealistic expectations.
If I start dating a guy who can't match their energy, I'm out. I refuse to settle for anything less than extraordinary.
This is the perfect night—when I can completely lose myself in a book without any distractions, and it's just me wrapped in a blanket with nothing but the glittering stars and a mug of coffee for company. But just as I'm immersing myself in a moment of calm, obsessing over my current book boyfriend, Jaxon Wakefield, the sudden buzz of my phone brings me back to the real world.
I glance at the screen and see my roommate Jen's name flashing. When I answer the call, she lets out a long breath, and I already know something is wrong. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Thank God. I need to talk to you."
"Are you in the bathroom? You sound like you have an echo."
"I'm hiding from Harry."
"Why?"
"Because I think I'm about to have sex with him." I jump in my chair, almost spilling coffee on my blanket.
"What?"
"One minute, he was dry humping the shit out of me, and the next, I was telling him I was ready."
"Do you feel ready?"
"I'm not sure. I think I am… No, I know I am, and he's been so patient with me."
"As long as it's what you want, that's all that matters."
"Oh my god, what if I'm terrible at it?"
"I promise you'll be fine, and Harry will take care of you. You know that."
"You're right. I can't believe I'm about to have sex." I listen closely to her voice to make sure she has no doubts, but all I hear is her nervous excitement.
"Well, I'm very happy for you, and I can't wait to hear all about it."
"Girls' night tomorrow, okay? I'll tell you everything."
"Can't wait. Now go and have fun."
"I will. I love you."
"I love you more."
After the call ends, I sink back in my chair, attempting to bury myself in the chapter I was reading, but my mind keeps drifting away from the words on the page. The conversation with Jen keeps playing over and over in my head, stirring up several feelings that I try unsuccessfully to push aside.
A part of me feels envious of Jen. Although I'm happy for her, it has me reflecting on my own choices.
I'm twenty-two, and I've never been touched by a guy. I'm not out here rocking a chastity belt or passing judgment on anyone having sex. I crave it too. I'm aching to experience the feeling of being completely consumed by another person.
But unlike most people I know, I'm not into partying every weekend or casual hookups. The idea of getting wasted and ending up with some random guy's cock for company is not for me.
I'd much rather immerse myself in a book or watch Anthony Bridgerton on Netflix and fantasize about swapping lives with Kate Sharma.
It's not like I haven't been dating since I've been in college. I have plenty, but none of the guys felt like the right fit for me. There's always something missing—something holding me back from moving forward—and I've been waiting for a deeper connection with someone.
I want someone who makes me crave them so badly that their 'hello' sounds like 'come here'. To consume me in every possible way. Someone who leaves me breathless. I want fire, desire, and every other emotion that takes over you and makes you forget who you are.
Is what I'm asking for really too much? Because we only have one shot at this, and I intend to be picky about the people I choose to spend this life with.
My schedule doesn't help. In fact, it's a nightmare—classes, assignments, and my job at the library leave me hardly any time for myself, let alone to try and meet someone new.
However, there are times when I'm my own worst enemy. There are a million other things I'd rather do than spend time with some of these douchebags I meet—the ones who can't walk past a mirror without checking themselves out or who try to slip a hand down your pants after thinking one kiss is enough to get you wet.
Those guys are currently on the list of people to avoid.
I recently went out with Kelvin, a guy from one of my classes. He’s tall with dirty blond hair and ocean-blue eyes and the most adorable guy I’ve ever met, but despite having a few things in common, I just didn't feel that spark. Could I take him home to meet my parents? Yes. But did I want to rip his clothes off? Unfortunately, no.
That was nearly four months ago, and while I'm fine being single, I'm restless.
I give up on reading and set aside my book. I pick up my phone and start scrolling through my apps, eventually opening a dating app I haven't used in weeks.
I have three new DMs, and when I open the first one, I find myself faced with a close-up and very graphic image of a limp dick staring back at me.
What is wrong with these men?
As I scroll down beneath the picture, I find a message attached to it.
Make it hard for me.
I swear I just threw up in my mouth a little.
I quickly press the delete button and move on to the next message, which is almost as bad as the first one.
I usually go for a 10, but I enjoy a challenge.
Reluctantly, I open the third message without any expectations, but once I start reading, I want to know more.
You had me when I saw that you loved to read. If you ever want to talk about books or the weather, hit me up or whatever the cool kids say. P.S. I don't send dick pics.
As I read his message, a smile spreads across my face, and I immediately click on his profile to learn more about him.
Zane, thirty-three, fucking hot, and an expert on bourbon and books.
The eleven-year age gap could be an issue, but he doesn't seem to mind since he took the time to read my bio and reach out to me.
I take a moment to think about it as I hover my fingers over the phone, but ultimately, I decide to reply to his message.
T: You had me when I saw that you're a book expert, and don't worry, I don't send dick pics either.
Here's to hoping older guys have more to offer.
Chapter 2
Zane
Death changes everything. Time changes nothing.
My sister was the most important person in my life, and I will never love another to the point that their absence practically destroys me again.
Fifteen long months have passed since the day Kimberley closed her eyes for the final time, and yet, the pain of that day continues to haunt me. One minute, her heart was still beating as I held her hand in mine, and the next, she was gone, just like that, leaving my soul shattered.
She was the last person who deserved her time on this earth to be shortened, and for that reason alone, I'm fucking angry. The day that anger moved into my heart, it built impenetrable walls and completely cut itself off.
In the months that followed her death, I became a shell of myself as I struggled to navigate life without her. Everywhere I looked, there was a constant reminder of a former life that now felt so far away.
Whistler's, the bar we used to visit almost every Saturday night with our younger brother, Callum, was now the last place I wanted to step foot in. The place where she was so full of life is now unbearable. The memories of us all in there, listening to her favorite music playing on the jukebox, usually something by Bryan Adams, and dancing around with some of the old boys flood my mind every time I drive past it.
Without her laughter, the library—a place we would visit every Tuesday after work—felt empty. We'd kept this tradition since we were kids, hanging out after school while waiting for our mom to finish work.
Even during my time at the school where I'd been teaching for a few years, I often found myself struggling. It felt like every conversation I had focused on the fact that Kim was gone. People were always asking me if I was okay. I was grateful for their concern, but it only resurfaced painful memories.
Kim was there wherever I went, but instead of finding peace in that, I found myself falling deeper and deeper into a shithole of sadness.
Sitting on my couch and seeking comfort in a glass of bourbon had become a nightly ritual for me, a coping mechanism for dealing with the crippling pain that consumed me. I was barely living, simply existing. But I guess grief is the price we pay for love.
I found myself at a crossroads one night, faced with a decision: do I let myself drown in sadness forever, continuing to lose all control over my life, or do I build a new one for myself, leaving behind the painful memories?
After going to therapy and meeting Wendy, a wonderful woman who helped pull me out of the depths of grief, I chose the latter. Besides, if I'd continued going down the path I was on, I would've had to face my sister's wrath when the day comes that I see her again, and I have no desire for that.
Two months ago, a college in Chicago called and offered me a position teaching English literature. Despite having previously worked as a teacher in Dallas, this was the first offer I'd received after applying to several other schools and colleges. I accepted the job without hesitation and wasted no time buying a new place to call home. Once I packed up everything I owned, the idea of moving on to the next chapter of my life pushed me forward.
With a heavy soul and my sister's words echoing in my mind, I realized I had no choice but to go. "You have one life, Zane, and you have to make it beautiful because I need you to live for both of us."
The constant guilt-tripping from my parents about me leaving them was an enormous strain on my well-being, especially my mom's subtle attempts to manipulate me into staying. I understood that she felt like she was losing another child, but I had to prioritize myself. Making that choice was hard, but it was the right decision for me and one I would've found harder without the support of my brother.
Callum is four years younger than me, and we couldn't be more different. He has dark blond hair and brown eyes that are so deep in shade that they sometimes appear black. In contrast, I have dark brown hair and hazel eyes that occasionally have a golden tint, thanks to being a mix of my parents, whereas Callum is our dad's clone. He's five feet, eleven inches tall compared to me—I'm just over six feet—and I never let him forget it. I like to always be in control, whereas he's carefree and says, "Fuck it," a lot. We're as close as two brothers could ever be, and our bond has only strengthened since losing Kimberley. He was the first to encourage me to take this job opportunity and grasp the chance to move forward with my life. So, I did, and despite my parents' objections, he pushed me to go.
Knowing he had his girlfriend, Zoe, here to lean on made it easier. She's been my brother's rock and, at times, mine too. When my sister passed away, Zoe was a pillar of strength for all of us despite the pain she was going through herself. She and Kimberley had grown close over the years, and I know it hit her hard when we lost her. However, Zoe selflessly set aside her own pain to support the rest of us. She was the one who helped me get not only this teaching job but also my new home.
Thankfully, my new house required no significant changes. Its seclusion in a remote area, away from prying eyes, was the first thing that drew me in. It was a place I could call my own, where I could unwind in peace.
My solitude matters, and for me, it's as vital as the air I breathe.
It's not that I like to feel disconnected from people. Communication is essential as a teacher, and I make every effort to be approachable and someone my students want to learn from. However, in my personal life, I value having my own space and time.
Something Kimberley could never understand.
She was relentless in her attempts to force her views about love on me. She wanted it, but I didn't. I needed independence, wanting to live life on my terms without being tied down by another person. However, she had the opposite dream—she craved the perfect fairy-tale romance.
Something she never had the chance to experience, and it breaks me to know that she was stripped of the one thing
It's not like I don't enjoy dating—I do. I love women. However, I always make it clear that I'm not the guy you see a future with—I'm the guy who will give you everything except his heart. I'll make you feel like a queen and meet all your needs, but I won't fall in love with you.
I refuse to risk having my heart shattered again. One loss in this lifetime is more than enough.
Chapter 3
Zane
After showering, I throw on some sweats and head downstairs. With a glass of bourbon in my grasp and a hand running through my damp hair, I drop down on the couch and prepare myself for a night of reading.
Reaching toward the coffee table, I grab The Great Gatsby. I read it once during college, but it's the book I'll be focusing on with my students once I start my job at the school, so it needs to be fresh in my memory. The last thing I want is for their first impression of me to be that of a dumbass who has no idea what he's talking about.
When I open the book, the whole thing comes back to me.
My memory is off the charts. I remember every single detail about everything, which can be both a gift and a curse, depending on the type of thoughts that occupy my mind. Lately, those thoughts haven't been all unicorns and rainbows, but I'm hoping they'll improve with this new start, or it really won't matter where I live—it could be Dallas, Chicago, or the fucking North Pole, and I'd still be stuck in this cycle of shit.
My phone buzzes about halfway through chapter four, and when I look to my right, a notification flashes up from a dating app.
I glance down at my phone, unlocking it with a quick swipe of my thumb. The lock screen is still the same—a photo of my sister and me laughing, taken way back when life was much simpler. It's been on there since before I lost her, but I can't bring myself to change it despite the bittersweet memories that wash over me every time I look at it. I try to focus on the sound of her laughter and the happiness that used to emanate from her, but those thoughts are quickly replaced by the crushing weight of the grief I carry so deep inside.
Sometimes, the memories fly past me like stray bullets, barely scratching the surface. Other times, they tear me open and leave me in pieces. It's a battle I'm always fighting, but one I'm going to fucking win.
When I open the app, I see that I've received a reply from a girl named Tessa. I know exactly who she is—the only woman I've messaged on here since I moved to Chicago—and as soon as I look at her picture again, I instantly remember what caught my attention in the first place—that smile. She's beautiful, but her smile is something else. And when I found out she's into books just like me, I had to make a move.
T: You had me when I saw that you're a book expert, and don't worry, I don't send dick pics either.
A burst of laughter escapes my lips as I swirl the glass of whiskey in my hand before bringing it to my mouth. The amber liquid flows through my veins, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
Despite the age difference, I found myself extremely attracted to her. I typically stick to dating women within my age range, but something about her drew me in.
Once I place Gatsby back on the table, I relax into my chair and immediately hit the reply button on my phone.
Z: Good to know. The last woman I spoke to sent me a dick pic after two messages, so I've been terrified of coming back here. Tell me, Tessa, what's your favorite book?
It surprises me when her message comes back as fast as it does, especially since it took her almost two weeks to reply.
