The Rules of You and Me Read Online Free Page A

him to start taking the—”
    “ I’d really rather not talk about this at dinner,” I said. Rule #6: No unpleasant discussions at dinner. It ruins digestion.
    Aunt Lydia pressed her lips together, but then she nodded. “If that’s what you want, Hannah. But just remember that I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
    I spotted Mama Rita walking backward through the swinging kitchen door with a tray balanced on one hand. Our appetizers and salads. Thank goodness.
    “ I’m starving,” I lied as Mama Rita brought the food over. “I’m really too hungry and tired to talk. Can we just eat?”
    Aunt Lydia smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes and looked strained. “Sure. I promise, you’ll love the food.”

 
     
     

CHAPTER THREE
     
    “ Hannah? Can you get the door?”
    I cast a glance at the kitchen ceiling, which was marked with strange brown stains and cracks that snaked across the plaster. Aunt Lydia’s muffled voice sounded like it came from somewhere above me, but I wasn’t sure exactly where since the house had only one floor as far as I could tell.
    The doorbell rang again and I cringed as I pushed myself out of my chair. I had only been out of bed for fifteen minutes and had just settled down to a bowl of Corn Flakes at the tiny counter which served as a table in Aunt Lydia’s even tinier kitchen. I hadn’t seen Aunt Lydia since I’d gotten up, so I had assumed she’d gone somewhere. But apparently, she had hiding places in the tiny house.
    I opened the door to find a towering pile of canvases and boxes.
    “ I couldn’t find the size you wanted,” said a voice behind the boxes. “So I bought the closest I could get. Sorry.”
    I stepped back as the pile, carried by two slender arms, moved over the threshold and into the house. As the canvases and boxes moved past me, I could see the back of a girl’s body. Her overalls were paint-splattered and looked four sizes too big. She wore a fitted white T-shirt that had ridden up to reveal a stretch of brown skin of her lower back.
    She dropped the collection of canvases and boxes into a chair in the living room, even though I wasn’t sure how she managed to see the chair at all, and then turned to me, blowing a lock of dyed orange hair out of her eyes.
    “ You’re not Lydia,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
    I shook my head. “No, sorry.”
    “ Where’s Lydia?”
    I pointed to the ceiling. “Somewhere up there, I think?”
    The girl brightened. “In her studio already? Maybe it’s a good day. Lydia!”
    “ Ashton?” Aunt Lydia’s voice called back, muffled through the ceiling above us.
    “ Of course it’s me,” the girl yelled back. “I got the canvases, but not the size you wanted.”
    “ What?” Aunt Lydia called.
    “ I got the canvases!” The girl yelled louder, cupping her hands around her mouth. “But not the right size!”
    “ Bring them up and I’ll take a look!”
    The girl blew her hair out of her eyes again and then looked at me. “Do you think you could help me carry these things?” she asked.
    I shrugged. “Sure.”
    I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going. If Aunt Lydia had a studio in the house, I hadn’t yet seen it.
    “ I’m Ashton McNeil, by the way,” the girl said, holding out a hand toward me.
    I shook her hand, firmly like my dad had taught me. Rule #7: Always have a good handshake. “Hannah Cohen,” I told her.
    “ Lydia’s niece?” Ashton asked, raising her eyebrows. “She’s talked about you before, but she didn’t say you were coming.”
    I couldn't help feeling surprised that Aunt Lydia had mentioned me to this girl. They must have known each other pretty well if they had actually talked about me. I didn’t think Aunt Lydia had thought too much about me or my parents over the years.
    “ It was kind of a last minute thing,” I said, shrugging. “I decided not to go to Paris.”
    Ashton snorted. “Oh, yeah, I decided not to go to Paris last week too.” She smirked as