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

my heart thumping in my chest, refusing to be ignored. I wave to Pax and make the drive back to campus, wishing we could make a new rule about being straightforward.

When I arrive at Modern Political Thought, my breaths are still too fast. I need to pour a million words and questions into my journal, but I’m late, and before I can slink to a seat in the back, Mike waves an arm, catching my attention. He pats the empty seat beside him and without a valid excuse, I fill it.

“How’s it going?” Mike asks.

My cheeks flush, reliving the kiss with Pax that seemed like dessert after my lunch. “Last class of the day,” I say, pulling out my laptop.

“Maddie asked me to reach out to you and ask if you and your boyfriend want to go see a movie or catch dinner or something.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell him honestly.

He leans back in his seat, tucking his pen behind an ear. “Why not?”

Because we used to date. Because you omitted that vital detail to your girlfriend. Because I don’t know how well my charade with Pax would go if someone were to truly test our seams. “We’re really busy right now.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

I give him a look of doubt and contempt, but thankfully, the professor saves me once more.

I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a royal blue flounce top. It’s cold tonight, a freeze warning in the city that makes me pull my sweater tighter as Paxton parks. It’s Friday and we’re at another party.

“Are Rae and Lincoln coming tonight?” he asks as we step out of the car and meet at the hood.

I shake my head. “No, Rae had to work late and wasn’t in the mood. They might have been asleep when you picked me up.”

His shoulders are flexed, his jaw strained, distracted from what I just said.

“We don’t have to be here,” I tell him. “I mean, we don’t have to be here unless you want to be.”

He looks at me as we cross the street. “I’m just…” He shakes his head.

“Was my bad mood from Wednesday contagious?” I ask.

“Maybe.”

“Did something happen?”

“Just football. A lot is riding on tomorrow’s game.”

I nod. “Maybe we duck out early, then. We can watch football. I can’t share any advice or insight but can definitely offer some morale.”

He grins. It’s his first smile of the night, and it makes me feel like I’ve won a prize. “It’s okay. I just need to have some fun.” His hand holding mine tightens, and we approach the long driveway of the house where bass from the music playing inside can be felt and heard.

It feels like a hundred degrees when we pass the front doors. Lights rove and flash overhead, and it smells like beer. I would bet that they had problems tapping the keg or someone made a massive spill on the carpet. Paxton walks behind me, his hand on my waist. People we pass greet me by name with an air of familiarity though none exists. It distracts me every time as I work to place each face and feel guiltier with each person, wondering if I’ve met them before and if I should know their name when they know mine.

“You look overwhelmed.” Paxton’s lips graze the shell of my ear, making a shiver run down my spine.

I turn so I can face him. It’s too loud in here, causing me to lean close to him and still yell my words. “How do they all know who I am?”

Pax looks at me, his expression a question about this being what I’d asked for and a reminder of the label I’m wearing: star quarterback’s girlfriend. He leans in close, his lips pausing at the hinge of my jaw. “You’re not nearly as invisible as you think.”

Someone greets Paxton then, a couple of guys I don’t know and one that I recognize but can’t place. I smile when Pax introduces me, but their attention is glued to him, asking him about tomorrow’s game, his arm, his excitement for the draft. The questions fade as I recognize someone from Brighton and then another and another. I’m searching over the faces when I hit Maddie and Mike. My shoulders sink, disappointment and trepidation making their appearances. Mike feels my stare. He turns, and for a moment, I think he doesn’t see me in this crowd of guys that I turn my attention back to, but when I glance back at him, he and Maddie are making their way over to us.

I step closer to Pax, my grip on his hand tightening. He reads the subtleties and looks at me with a silent apology. He thinks I’m bored.

“Hey, Poppy! Hi, Paxton.” Maddie smiles, stopping closer to me because the guys are still converging around Pax.

“Hey,” Pax says for both of us, understanding registering in his gaze as he steals a look at me.

“We’re excited about your game tomorrow,” Maddie tells him.

Pax nods. “Thanks. I appreciate the support.” He’s going to be great at this stuff once he goes pro. Pax is the epitome of professionalism when these moments arise.

“Do you guys want to get something to drink?” Mike asks. “We were just heading into the kitchen.” He moves his hand to Maddie’s waist, holding her so close that his hand stretches across most of her stomach.

“I think we’re good,” I say.

Mike looks at me and then Paxton and then back to me. “Come on. One drink. We’ve barely seen you guys since the bonfire after Halloween.”

Intentionally, I nearly say.

“Sure,” Pax agrees for us.

Traitor. Clearly, I need to add a new rule.

Pax says something to the guys he’d been visiting with and then turns, his hand still at my waist guiding us to follow Mike as he leads us toward the kitchen. Pax pulls me to a quick stop, my back hitting his chest. “Do you want to make him jealous?”

I shake my head and turn to look over