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

says. “I don’t want to deal with anyone’s shit. And we’ll barricade the stairs to make sure nobody goes up to our rooms and loses their shorts.” Another mention of my strip poker defeat.

“I’m more worried about people being dicks and breaking things or trying to steal shit,” I say.

Lincoln shakes his head. “It’s going to be fine. No one’s going to be dumb enough to come over and steal from us. Rae’s been working hard on this.” For you, are the silent words he only says with a hard stare. I know it’s the truth. Rae’s been worried about me losing my shit since before my cheese started sliding off my cracker last year.

“I heard you painted a mural for the party,” Arlo says, looking at Ian.

Ian shrugs dismissively. “It’s more like a backdrop. The girls wanted something for a photo booth.”

“My boy’s an artist. Wait till you see his shit,” Luis Garcia places a hand on Ian’s shoulder. Unlike the rest of us who met here at Brighton, the two of them have known each other since childhood.

I miss their next exchange, noticing several missed calls and texts from my ex, Candace. I debate ignoring them, but the number of them has me checking to ensure all is well.

Candace: Are you just going to ignore me now?

Candace: What if I was hurt? What if I needed you? Are you just going to turn your back on me?

Candace: I can’t believe that three years means nothing to you.

 “Booty call?” Arlo jokes.

I shake my head. “Candace.”

Lincoln looks up from his phone, his dark gaze stoic. He hates Candace and always has—all of them have. It’s partially her fault and partly mine. I got tired of defending her, and she never apologized for anything—something I found incredibly attractive initially. I liked that she didn’t give a shit about anyone’s feelings or expectations, but I realized too late that she didn’t care about my thoughts or feelings, either.

“Don’t give me that look,” I tell Lincoln as I slide my phone into my bag. “I’m not responding.”

Lincoln raises his brows, still silent.

The jokes and conversation among my friends cease at my comments. Candace is among my laundry list of items that has everyone feeling uncertain and losing faith and confidence in me and my decisions.

“I thought you guys were done?” Ian asks. His gaze is pragmatic and patient, reminding me of Caleb. I’ve been a bright spot on his radar lately. He went as far as suggesting to bench me after finding that I’d broken the team rules and got drunk the night he hauled me home from the party.

Another scoff from Lincoln. “She’s never gone for long. You’ve seen the pattern. They break up, and then she’s back like a rash within a week.”

Arlo snickers. “Like a rash,” he repeats.

“It’s been six weeks,” I say, trying to prove Lincoln wrong. He’s forgetting the fact that Candace and I have gone a few stretches that lasted a full month, but this is our longest time apart. I don’t mention the detail because I don’t want to talk about Candace any more than I want to talk about the fact I’ve enjoyed partying and drinking more than I probably should have over the past year.

“You guys have broken a record,” Luis says with a chuckle.

“Was it a jealousy message? Did she see you walking or talking with another girl again? ‘I’m going to kick your ass if you’re cheating on me!’” Arlo mimics her, using a horrible, screechy voice that sounds nothing like her, but captures her jealous nature like a polaroid.

I shake my head and grab my bag, prepared to leave. “No.” Maybe it’s because I have two sisters or because Candace and I dated for three years, but regardless of the reason, it feels wrong to be talking about her or blaming the extent of our unhealthy relationship solely on her when I know I was the other half to that madness.

“That’s good. She always turns crazy when she gets jealous. How many times has she shown up in the middle of the night, swearing you had a girl in your bed. Fucking nuts, dude,” Arlo continues.

Ian smirks but doesn’t join in the conversation.

“We’re done for good this time,” I say.

Lincoln cuts his gaze to me. “She finally crossed the line by burning your shit?”

“It’s over,” I repeat. “We both know it’s over. We’re on mutual terms with the breakup.”

“We’ve heard this before,” Arlo says. “I’m convinced she has a magical vagina.” His eyes brighten. “Oh wait, is it because she lets you do butt stuff?”

“You’re such an asshole,” I tell him.

“Rose and Olivia would string you up by your toenails if they heard you,” Ian warns Arlo. Arlo is dating Olivia, and she and Rose are best friends.

“What? No. Rose would probably ask even more questions. If you recall, it was your girlfriend who asked if vaginas all feel the same.”

Ian claps a hand over his face.

Lincoln chuckles. “How’d you answer that one?”

Ian wipes his fingers down his face. “You guys are off-topic. This is all about Candace and if she’s going to claw her way back into Paxton’s life.”

I flip him off. “Thanks for that, buddy.”

He grins. “You bet.”

“I’m heading home. I’ve got homework and tape to watch and a stupid party to plan for, apparently. Catch you assholes later.”

“I expect dinner to be ready when we get home!” Arlo yells after me as I make my way through the locker room. I don’t turn to acknowledge him, keeping my focus on getting home and the list of things I need to do. This year is all about focus. It has to be. Raegan’s right—they all are—I’ve worked too damn long and too damn hard to let everything slip away because of a few parties.

I toss my bag into the trunk, get into the driver’s side of my car, and head home, where I find Caleb on the couch with a gaming controller in his hands.

A year ago, I would