Writing the Rules: A Fake Dating Standalone Mariah Dietz (best novels to read .txt) 📖

I release a heavy sigh, debating the possibility of going to visit Maggie. Forget about football and school and Candace and Mike and Poppy and how my chest feels like it went against a cheese grater. “This shit is so complicated.”

“I’d normally tell you that shit is simple and we just make it complicated, but in this case, this shit’s complicated. I’m still trying to catch up on if you guys were dating or fake dating or what in the hell was happening,” Arlo says.

My attention stops on the cinnamon roll french toast. I have no doubt Poppy would be ordering this if she were here. “It started as fake, and then it became more,” I tell him.

“Did she know it was more?”

I nod.

“Then this isn’t complicated. Remove the shit that’s making it so damn convoluted. If Candace doesn’t already understand that you’ve moved on and don’t want to get back together, you need to make sure she knows that and then kick Mike’s ass.”

Lincoln smirks. “He can’t kick Mike’s ass. He’d look like a tool.” He turns his gaze to me. “You can tell him to back off, but Poppy has to make the decision with him. She has to be the one who cuts ties, and from what Rae said, that already happened.”

Arlo makes a show of wiping his hands together. “See? It’s simple. Job done.”

“You’re forgetting that I broke Poppy’s trust and she called it quits.”

Arlo turns his gaze to Lincoln. “We’re going to need you to go undercover and get some insight on the situation.”

“Already done.” He sighs, straightening his napkin so it’s parallel to the counter. “She said Poppy wants some time.”

“How much time?” Arlo asks as the words turn in my head.

Lincoln lifts his shoulders. “I have no idea, but my advice, not too long because if you let her sit on these doubts and questions, they’re only going to multiply. Lies hatch lies, like doubt hatches doubt.”

“We leave for Vegas this afternoon,” I say.

Lincoln nods. “I think it’s for the best. You can focus on the game, and when we get back, you talk to her.”

My own doubts are multiplying by the second, trying to grasp how in the hell I’m going to focus on the game when everything in me feels the loss of her, and it’s been less than twelve hours.

The morning goes better than I could have expected, better than I likely deserve. Several of the players knew who I was, all of the coaches did, and we managed to bring in truckloads of donations that will be going to good causes. I still kind of hate my roommates for making me come, and I hate myself a little for enjoying it, but I’m also grateful as all hell that these assholes are my friends—my brothers.

“Paxton,” Candace calls my name as I’m getting ready to leave. We only have an hour until we need to get to the airport. I don’t turn around, continuing toward the parking lot with Lincoln and Arlo and clinging to the fact the head coach of Seattle told me I was going to make something of myself. “Paxton,” she says my name again, louder this time.

I turn to face her, my head drawn back. “What do you want?”

Her eyes pierce me like fangs. “Really? That’s the response I get after I managed to hook you guys up with this opportunity?”

“What are you expecting?” I ask.

“Appreciation, gratitude, a hello.”

I shake my head. “You meddled. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and tried to make things as amicable as possible between us. I don’t want us to hate each other, but right now, I’m so damn close to hating you.”

She pulls her chin back, brows lowered. “It’s us, Pax. We’re just going through a tough time. I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I just … miss you.”

I shake my head again. “This feud and jealousy and bullshit game that we’ve been playing for years can’t continue. You hurt Poppy, and by doing so, you hurt me. Don’t you get it? I’m done.”

She stares at me, anger narrowing her eyes for several seconds. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Leave her alone, Candace. I won’t allow you to hurt her.”

She starts to open her mouth to say something that I know will be rude as she stamps her hand against her hip.

“Don’t,” I tell her. “Don’t make me hate you. Move on. Find someone who makes you happy. Find someone you don’t want to break up with, who the idea of hurting them makes you physically ill. Find someone who is good enough for you and deserves you and pushes you to be the very best version of yourself.”

She presses her lips together for a moment and then purses them. “Do you really think it’s going to last? You started off as a lie.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong.” Even with the rules, Poppy and I were always honest. “I wish the best for you, but I don’t want to see you anymore. We’re done.” I turn and head to meet Arlo and Lincoln, who’d given us a few steps of privacy but were well within earshot to hear everything.

“I thought she was going to bitch slap you,” Arlo says.

“At what point?” I ask, hopping into the backseat because as good as today was, my good mood is quickly waning.

“When you told her to back off of Poppy,” he says, closing his door.

“You need to be sure to talk to Poppy when we get back,” Lincoln says. “That shit you described, that’s as real as it gets, and we both know how damn hard it is to find.”

When we make it home, I have twenty minutes to pack. I grab my duffle bag, but the sight of the flipped picture on my desk catches my attention. It’s the one of Candace, the one that’s been here for more than three years that she’d framed and given to me after our second date. I grab the trashcan from under my