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

grabs several paper towels. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says, bending down to sop up the mess.

“That’s okay,” I say. “I just was in my own thoughts.”

“I noticed.” He glances up from where he’s still on one knee. “You know we have some people coming to clean up, right?”

“Yeah. I just didn’t want to leave a giant mess.”

Pax wipes at the cupboard. “Was there any vodka left in the kiddie pool last night?” he asks.

“Not a drop.”

He grins, his tousled hair falling over his forehead. From this angle, I can see the outline of muscles that define his broad shoulders. My thoughts become an incoherent jumble of words.

The doorbell rings before it gets awkward, saving me from myself.

Pax stands, throwing the wet paper towels into the garbage under the sink, and heads to the front door. He takes a deep breath through his nose like he’s steeling himself for what’s to come. I wonder if he knows who it is? Is he expecting someone? A girl? Is that why he’s not wearing a shirt?

Panic stirs in my chest.

“Hey,” a familiar voice rings out. “I’m Maddie.”

I drop my head back as a strange sense of relief fills my lungs before dread glues my feet to the floor.

“Is Poppy here? We were here last night, and I think I lost my keys somewhere.”

We. The word falls like a hammer, leaving me to peek at the door where I confirm Maddie’s here with Mike at her side. This is ten times worse than Pax having a girl show up. Keys are a big thing. There’s no way she’s going to leave without finding them. I take a step toward the doorway, and Maddie turns her attention to me and smiles. “Hey, Poppy. I’m so sorry to be here so early. I hope we didn’t wake you guys up.” Her gaze darts to Pax again, fleetingly, then returns to me, her eyes bright and round with an apology and gratitude.

“No. It’s okay.”

Pax takes a step back with a silent invitation for them to come inside. I note the way Mike stares at him, and I wonder if he remembers Paxton or if they had ever even met. The two are as opposite as day and night. Mike has a thin build, something he used to hate that led him to consume the most caloric foods he could find in an attempt to fill out. His hair is dark and straight, and his eyes are a medium shade of brown. But their differences are far more profound than appearance. Mike has always been obsessed with music, a deep love for the grunge bands who came out of Seattle—Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, and Green River, who he listened to at all times and loved learning about their inspirations and discussing their lyrics. He hated school, but loved learning, turned off by the roles that filled our high school. He was the first person I knew who gave up eating meat and discussed philosophy but was also well-liked and a perfectionist to the core.

Paxton’s tall, but he’s always seemed bigger and stronger than any of the guys I knew. And he’s always been driven toward football, where his leadership, motivation, and teamwork attributes all shine. He’s also one of the most dependable and loyal people I’ve ever known, offering Raegan his bed and room last year when their parents split up, and looking out for us through high school and now in college. And while he works toward perfection on the field, his demeanor is nearly always calm and patient.

“You said you lost your keys?” I ask.

Maddie takes another step toward me, nodding as her smile grows. “Yeah. Have you seen them by chance? My keychain is a cutout of Arkansas, and there are three keys on it. One of them has a pink top.” She glances at Pax again. “You must be Poppy’s boyfriend.”

Paxton’s eyes cut to me and then back to Maddie. “I must be,” he says, his tone flirtatious and friendly, though I hear the undertone of sarcasm.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Maddie says. “This is my boyfriend, Mikey.”

At the mention of Mike’s name, Paxton’s shoulders rise, so he’s standing at his full height before he crosses his arms over his bare chest, every contoured muscle of his torso and strong arms on display. It’s a stark contrast to Mike’s baggy sweatshirt.

“Aren’t you Raegan’s brother?” Mike asks. I hear the insinuation in his tone. My lie is being blown over like a house made of straw.

Paxton nods. “Have we met?”

“A few times,” Mike says.

“Mike went to high school with Rae and me,” I say.

Pax glances at me, his lips curved with the hint of a smirk. “Oh. Small world. Sorry, man. I don’t recall meeting you.”

Mike shakes his head. “When did you guys start dating?” His gaze darts back to mine, his confusion apparent.

“It’s still pretty new,” I say.

Mike turns his attention back to Pax. It feels like he’s searching for holes in our story.

Pax doesn’t say anything, he just meets his stare.

“We should find your keys,” I say. “I haven’t seen them inside. Were you in the backyard?”

Maddie looks at Mike as though needing his help to recall their night. “Yeah, we were. We went and did the bobbing for apples and hung out by the fire for a while and caught part of the movie.”

The bonfire had been unplanned and made me even more grateful we’d worked to have a dry party—or at least as dry as possible.

“Let’s go and see if we can find them out there,” I say, nervous about turning my back because it feels like this lie is bigger and faster than a panther, ready to pounce and smother me.

Paxton pulls open the small closet by the front door that I didn’t realize existed until now and pulls out a red Brighton sweatshirt that he pulls over his head as he walks toward me, following the charade. He rests a hand on