Writing the Rules: A Fake Dating Standalone by Mariah Dietz (classic english novels .TXT) 📕

back to cover my own ass after I’ve fallen down a path of bad decisions and worse outcomes.

“No, man. I’m good.”

“If you change your mind…” He turns around and heads off in the direction of the long line of cars parked down our street. I’m hoping that the snow shoveling we did this past winter to help out several of our neighbors will buy their good graces for the night.

“He seems really desperate for a drinking friend,” a girl on the opposite side of me says, drawing my attention. She’s dressed in a costume that barely covers her nipples. I’m pretty sure it’s stickers or maybe paint, and I’m staring hard enough to try and decipher the truth when Poppy stops in front of me.

“Please tell me you have alcohol,” she says.

I tear my attention from the girl with horns on her head and a devious smile to Poppy, who is currently peering over her shoulder like someone’s following her.

The girl who looks ready to learn more than my name looks at Poppy with curiosity and competitiveness flashing across her features. “There’s a guy over there who looks more your type. He said he has alcohol in his car.” She points in the direction of where the guy had disappeared.

Poppy turns and takes a step like she’s actually considering going before I grip her arm to stop her.

The nearly naked stranger raises her eyebrows, silent questions about Poppy and her role in my life apparent.

“She’s my little sister’s best friend,” I explain.

Poppy turns around as though just now realizing she interrupted our conversation. “Yes. Hi. That’s me. Little sister’s best friend.” She places a hand on her chest. “Completely neutral and not posing one iota of a threat. Nice to meet you.” She swings her gaze back to me. “By the way, I’m not accusing you of having alcohol. I’m simply inquiring.”

“What’s your costume?” the girl asks.

Poppy’s green eyes narrow with annoyance, but she keeps her gaze on me, a silent plea to help before she volleys her attention to the girl. “I’m Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? It’s a classic.” She says this like she’s exhausted from explaining her costume or like she’s tired of giving a shit at all. A sigh confirms her fatigue, and she takes a step back, a jagged smirk on her lips as her gaze drops to the ground and she turns.

“Poppy, wait,” I say.

She looks over her shoulder. “That’s okay. Sorry I interrupted.”

“Poppy!” I jog a couple of steps to catch up with her.

“No. It’s fine. You found…” she looks back and then meets my eyes, “a second Candace.”

“Now we’re trading insults?” I ask.

“Pretty sure she took the first shot.”

I grin. “Fair enough. What’s got you in such a mood?”

Her shoulders fall. “Nothing. Truly. I’m sorry I interrupted your…” She shakes her head. “Actually, I’m not. I’m not sorry. She seemed like a bitch, and it has nothing to do with her costume and me feeling inferior. She seems like a bitch because of her snotty tone and death glares. After everything you’ve gone through, the last thing you want or need is another Candace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find that guy with the booze and you should find someone else to hang out with.”

“This must be a big deal if you’re willing to take alcohol from a stranger.”

She lifts her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal.” Embarrassment tinges her cheeks.

“Come on. I have a bottle up in my room that my grandpa gave me when I turned twenty-one.” I nod in the direction of the house.

We head inside and stop at the stairway where multiple strands of yellow warning tape are hung to deter people. Poppy reaches out to start clearing a path.

“That will take forever,” I say. “Ready? Up you go.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and one under the back of her knees and scoop her up, catching her completely off guard. Before she can contest the act, I lift her over the tape, then use the wall and the banister to hop over the same height.

“That was borderline impressive,” Poppy says, looking back at the tape.

I grin at her almost compliment. “So, what brought on the sudden urge to skip out on your own party and get trashed?”

She takes a deep breath and sighs. “My ex is here.”

“Chase?”

She shakes her head, then nods. “He’s here, too.” Her gaze flips back to the party like she’s just now remembering this fact. “This has been a long night. I’ve been trying to avoid Chase and Mike and dodge questions that I don’t have answers to, and I’ve realized I’m a terrible liar. Like, really, really awful.”

“That’s a good trait.”

“Unless you already lied.”

“To Chase?”

“No, to my ex.”

“Who isn’t Chase?”

“No. Mike.” She sounds exasperated.

“High school Mike?”

She nods. “That’s the one.”

“He’s here?”

Poppy smiles, but it’s a lie as well and comes across as artificial as she’s claiming her verbal lies do. “With his new girlfriend.”

Poppy has been Rae’s best friend for as long as I can recall. The two have been inseparable regarding all things except for football which was the stitching to mine and Rae’s relationship for several years and therefore precluded Poppy. Still, she’s been a part of my life long enough to know the essential details of the breakup that included him ending things to move across the country and her losing sleep and tears over the asshole. I’m also aware of how she’d sworn off dating last year.

“Why don’t we just kick his ass out of here. Who invited him?” I grip the rail to jump back over the tape, but Poppy grabs my hand.

“If we kick him out, then it looks like I care, and that him being here bothers me.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” I ask.

“Did I mention his girlfriend moved across the country with him, and they’ve transferred to Brighton?”

I blow out a short breath. “One drink, and then I’ll lean on the curfew card.”

Poppy’s shoulders lower with