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

ever seen. I move my hips, and his gaze finds mine. He places his hands on my waist and controls every rhythm and thrust until pleasure has me dropping my head, his name leaving me like a mantra. His movements quicken and his fingers dig into me, his breaths are growls. The world spins, the pleasure so great I can’t recall ever feeling this good—this much—and then I tip and spiral as an orgasm rips through me. His thrusts grow harder, faster, carrying out my pleasure as his own builds and then releases.

I lie still, unable to move. My entire body feels warm and weak and sated. Pax kisses along my shoulder and spine, then he moves, his fingers sweeping over my back again as he takes a step back and fishes his pants off the ground. “Do you want my shirt?” he asks. “Caleb’s likely still downstairs.”

I stretch each of my muscles, unconvinced that they’re all still attached. “Please,” I say, turning and drinking in the sight of him, writing this moment in my head like a conversation I’d be telling myself in an attempt to better help me remember everything about this and him.

He pulls out a folded shirt and hands it to me. I slip it on and stand, my legs still tingling, then dig in my bag and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste and head into the bathroom. When I return, Pax kisses me before disappearing down the hall, and I cross another first off my list as I approach Paxton’s bed and crawl under the covers.

27

Poppy

“You two lovebirds look awfully happy today,” Dominic says as we walk into Mario’s Pizzeria.

“Hey, man,” Pax says, as we stop at the counter. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, another day, another dollar.” Dominic smiles, but his tone is flat. “I’m going to go get some more pies ready for the lunch rush.”

“Does he ever not work?” I ask as we cross the short distance to our table.

Pax glances over his shoulder in the direction of where Dominic disappeared. “He got hurt a couple of years ago while snowboarding, and he’s got massive debt.” He expels a short breath. “It sucks because he’s such a good guy, and he’s smart and motivated, but that injury caused him to file bankruptcy, and it sounds like it really derailed his entire life.” He straightens a sign on the counter. “I’ve worried about that happening so many times. I mean, Lincoln’s my best friend, and Tyler is awesome, so I’m not trying to talk trash about them by any means, but they have a million backup options if shit fails, whereas if I don’t make it in football, my options become a nine-to-five for whoever is willing to hire a college graduate with little work experience.”

“Okay, first off, you did hear that sports announcer this morning, right? They’re predicting you to be in the top draft picks. They flat out said there’s no way you won’t be drafted.” I stare at him, feeling the pang in my chest for assuring him of something that could potentially be the end of us. It all feels so eerily familiar, giving Mike similar assurances about his college applications. “And secondly, if—and it’s a big freaking if—you weren’t drafted, which is like a one in ten billion, trillion chance, you’re smart, Pax. The world is your oyster. You could start a business or become a VP or whatever you want.”

His smile is borderline condescending. “Starting a business takes money. Lots of money.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t have to happen right away or in a year or ten years. You can learn on-the-job training and save.”

“In theory, sure. But Dominic is proof that theory has holes. He works his ass off and still can’t afford to pay his medical bills and rent.”

I glance back at the kitchen where Dominic is working, my arguments that hard work will prevail pausing on my tongue. “My mom struggles with this a lot. Even with insurance, therapy is really expensive, and not all insurances cover the service. That’s why she started her radio show. She pitched the idea for over five years before someone picked it up, but she wanted to help reach more people, knowing that while everyone has their own story, we all face similar obstacles and fears.”

I take another look at Dominic, feeling a myriad of emotions and thoughts. Paxton’s future seems endless and impossibly bright, and yet the thought almost condemns everyone who isn’t a football god.

The door opens, and there’s a familiar gasp as someone recognizes Paxton. He smiles and greets them, his humbleness and kindness once again tripping me up because they’re two of my favorite attributes of his, guaranteed to distract me.

The afternoon crawls. The restaurant is busy, and my thoughts are constant and loud, making studying difficult.

Raegan: You guys want to have dinner? We can do it at the apartment.

I glance at Pax, typing away on his laptop.

Me: That sounds good. Let me chat with Pax and confirm and I’ll get back to you.

Raegan: Tell him it’s chicken marsala.

 “You want the last garlic knot?” Pax asks.

I shake my head. “No, thanks. But Rae just messaged and asked if we want to have dinner with her and Lincoln.”

He grins. “Are you going to stop overthinking our earlier conversation if we go?”

“I’m not—”

“I can hear your thoughts, they’re so loud.”

I sigh. “I just feel a little conflicted.”

Pax leans on the opposite side of the counter. “You don’t say?”

“You’ve worked so hard and have given up so much, all of you have. And then I think about Dominic who worked really hard as well—and still does—and Rae who works tirelessly, and it makes my head hurt because you’re right, it’s not just about working hard. I wish everyone could have their dreams met.”

A sincere and kind smile curves his lips. “Life isn’t all about money. I don’t want to get drafted just because of the potential payday. Football is my life. It’s what I know—what I’m