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

of the game, I mostly go for the concession snacks, the social time, and to watch the hot guys on the field.

“I have a feeling they’re all going to be in a bad mood tonight,” Rae says, checking her phone. “That was a pretty rough game.”

“Yeah, but they still won,” Olivia says.

“That’s what I said,” I say.

Rae smirks as her shoulders lift with a slight shrug. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, Brighton!” a guy yells, and it’s followed by cheers, announcing at least one member of the football team’s arrival.

“They got the fire started finally,” Rose says. Behind us, the fire is small but bright, highlighting the dozens of people gathered around it. Another whoop and then another. More of the team is arriving. My stomach feels both empty and full, and suddenly I can’t remember my plan to have fun or how to act casual.

Rae gently nudges me with her elbow. When I look at her, she gives me an assuring smile.

“Hey! Hey!” Arlo’s familiar voice rings through the air as he makes his way toward us, attention focused on Olivia. She walks toward him, meeting him before he reaches the rest of us, and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“How are things with you and Ian?” Rae asks, looking at Rose to offer the two a moment of privacy.

Rose nods, her smile returning even brighter. “So good. We’re finding a good rhythm. I still can’t convince myself to spend the night at his house, though. It’s too weird with his parents being right next door in the main house.”

“That would be kind of strange,” I agree.

“Thank you. Be sure to mention that to him if he asks.” Rose’s phone vibrates, tearing her attention away.

“Hey,” Arlo says, turning toward us with his arm tightly wound around Olivia.

“You seem in a good mood. Congrats on your win,” I tell him.

Arlo grins, but it’s not as broad or bright as his usual smiles. “I’m just relieved the game is over. I never thought it was going to end. That was brutal. It felt like Groundhog’s Day. We kept making stupid mistakes.” He looks at Rae as though expecting her to agree.

“It wasn’t your guys’ best game,” she says.

He scoffs. “You can say that again.”

Lincoln appears then, his features surprisingly relaxed considering how Rae and Arlo are summarizing the game. Every guy on the team is avidly hoping and waiting for a draft number that they’ve all worked tirelessly for, Lincoln especially. He’s convinced his future includes either the NFL or working for his dad, which has him devoted to football. He wraps an arm around Rae’s waist. “Are you warm enough out here? It’s cold.” He kisses her temple, the gesture simple and comfortable yet endearing and sweet.

“How are you?” she asks, ignoring his question.

He shrugs. “It sucked, but it’s over. We have to move on and move forward and prepare for next week so we don’t do … whatever in the hell tonight was again.”

Raegan nods and then looks over her shoulder. “Where’s Pax?”

Lincoln’s gaze skates to me, then back to her before he jerks his head in the direction of the bonfire. “He was just saying hi to some people. I’m sure he’ll be coming down here soon.”

Soon becomes a four-letter word as it stretches into thirty minutes, then an hour. I have no idea where Paxton is. I’ve seen him twice, and both times it was with the bonfire and thirty or more feet between us.

“Poppy?”

My heart spins like a top as I turn at the increasingly familiar voice and face Maddie. “I thought that was you,” she says, wrapping her arms around me like we’re old friends. “Mikey!” she calls to where Mike is standing several feet away, talking with some people I don’t recognize. “I told you I saw Poppy!” She smiles. “It’s your hair. It’s so beautiful. It’s like your trademark.”

People have always commented on my red hair, assuming the gene dictated my demeanor, temper, and affection for Saint Patrick’s Day—a holiday I’ve only ever celebrated with a bowl of Lucky Charms and, last year, my first green beer.

Mike says something to the guy he was talking to and then walks the few steps to reach us, his familiar dark gaze intrusive and knowing. I can hear his silent questions asking me why I’m here alone. Likely, he’s seen Paxton since Pax often draws a crowd and the attention of those around him. “Hey,” he says. “I thought you might be here.”

I clasp my frozen fingers in front of me as the fire burns too hot on my left side. “Did you guys go to the game?”

Maddie nods. “Our football team in Arkansas never won,” she says, glancing at Mike, reliving a shared year. “It’s really fun to be here where everyone loves the team, and they’re so good.”

I nod. “They get a lot of attention.”

“The concession stands are way better here, too,” Mike says, catching my attention.

I nod again. “They have the best nachos.”

“Have you tried the chili fries?” he asks.

“Only about a hundred times.”

He laughs, and it’s boyish and familiar but also more masculine and defined, like an instrument that’s been recently tuned. “Every time I see cotton candy, I still think about that time you and Tanner got sick on it at the state fair.”

I place my hand on my stomach. “I do, too,” I admit on a groan. “I still can’t eat it.”

“They had a food eating contest,” Mike explains to Maddie.

She smiles, unaware of how I spent that morning alone with Mike after telling our parents we were leaving two hours earlier than we told Raegan and Tanner. We spent the hours in the back of his car with the heater blasting and music softly playing through the space. He’d tell me the story behind the song and then kiss me like it was written about me.

“Is your boyfriend here?” Maddie asks, quickly changing the station that’s playing in my thoughts.

“Yeah.” I nod and glance toward the largest crowd. “He’s…” I point toward