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

his hands. “Fair enough. I do want to call a truce—wave the white flag. I don’t want to fight. I want to hang out and find out how things are going and catch up.”

I want to ask him why he’s trying to be friends now? Why he’s acting so rude toward Pax? I also don’t want to even get in the vicinity of those answers.

I pull in a breath and steel myself, trying to be pragmatic and logical and turn my emotions off. “How does it feel being back in Washington?” I ask. “Do you miss Arkansas?”

He looks at me, his eyes roaming slowly over my face like he’s still trying to count the differences. “Not as much as I missed Washington.”

My heart beats noticeably in my chest, both faster and firmer as his gaze stays on mine, unabashedly, but it’s not the good pitter-patter that indicates butterflies but instead feels like a warning in my chest.

“Guys!” Dylan yells from inside the house. “Hello? Mike? Poppy?”

“We’re out here!” I holler, grateful for the interruption.

Dylan appears. “We’ve got less than an hour before dinner. I want to show you the video game. Come on,” he says from the doorway.

“We can do it after dinner,” Mike tells him. “I’m not in any hurry. I plan to stick around.” He looks at me as he says this, and though my fingers are still frozen, his words sink into me, feeling intentional.

Dylan looks rejected, but he doesn’t let it stop him from coming outside and plopping on the chair across from me. Two years ago, I’d be bribing him so he’d give us some time alone, but today, I offer him my small stack of crackers, hoping it encourages him to stay.

With a bit of prompting, Dylan tells us about school, his karate lessons, and then video games. While he talks, my thoughts blur and travel to Paxton. I recheck my phone to see if I’ve received any word from him. A missed text has me quickly unlocking my phone.

Chloe: Happy Thanksgiving!! XO!

 Mike cuts his attention to me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just a friend,” I say, setting my phone down.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can hear his silent questions, and while they’re not intrusive, they’re insistent, making me get to my feet. “We should go inside. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I arrive home late, the apartment dark and empty. I regret not accepting my parents’ invitation to spend the night. I set two plates of leftovers on the counter and take off my jacket, hanging it up as my thoughts drift over the evening. Mike sat across from me at dinner, our eyes meeting several times until I finally found the right distraction by asking Mom to tell us about her latest book deal and the book tour that’s tied with it. After dinner, we went to the living room, and the Rios family helped us decorate the Christmas tree. We had dessert and watched a movie until Dylan whined enough about the video game that Dylan, Mike, and I went up to the loft to play.

I want to say it was uncomfortable and boring. That it was weird hanging out with Mike again, especially after the tension between him and Pax, and our own strange altercation in the sunroom, but instead we ate more dessert and laughed over my poor video game skills, and then Dylan got tired of us talking too much and switched the game to single player and Mike and I went down for more brownies. He opened a new playlist that was peppered with artists I knew, and we laughed and talked about music and lyrics and the significance behind them until Mrs. Rio announced it was time to leave.

I change into my pajamas, wash my face, and brush my teeth while I replay the looks we exchanged, the words we shared that sometimes seemed to hold hidden meanings. I think of the way he’d moved to sit beside me when he turned on the music and was close enough that our legs brushed.

I climb into bed and check my phone again for any messages as I send replies to friends who had contacted me throughout the day that I never responded to. None of them are from Pax.

I scroll through social media, seeing pictures of people with their families, of feasts, pies, turkeys, football games in the backyard. I stop at a picture that Paxton posted of him with his mom, Rae, Lincoln, and grandparents. Another that he posted of their dinner, one of him cutting the turkey, and a final one of him with whipped cream on his face with a crooked smile like he didn’t want to laugh but couldn’t help it.

Maybe I should text him? We’re friends, after all. But as my thumbs hover over the keyboard, I can’t find the right words to say, so instead, I set it on my nightstand and roll over.

20

Paxton

“Aren’t we supposed to be hanging out?” Vanessa, Cooper’s girlfriend, asks, stopping in the living room where Tyler, Cooper, Ian, Luis, Caleb, Arlo, Lincoln, and I are watching tape. All of last year, I couldn’t tell the twins apart, but Vanessa cut her hair recently, and it’s been a saving grace because I can finally tell who is who.

Arlo looks around at us and then back at her. “We’re hanging out and working. Two birds, one stone,” he says, holding up his index finger.

Vanessa raises her eyebrows. “It’s Friendsgiving. Work isn’t allowed.”

“Ten more minutes, and we’ll be done,” I tell her. “You have my word.”

Vanessa looks at me. “I’m going to hold you to it.”

I nod in reply before she wanders back to where the girls are gathered.

“Where’s Poppy?” Ian asks as I check my phone.

“I don’t know.”

His eyebrows edge higher. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say automatically, but in reality, I’m not sure. I reached out to her the day after Thanksgiving, and it took her five hours to respond, and when she did, it was brief. We