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

be able to achieve is climbing out of my comfort zone—maybe lift a flap or two of this “box” where I feel most comfortable. I can do this. Right?

9

Paxton

I wake up to a half dozen messages, all of them from my little sister. Just what every guy wants to see while his pants are still tented.

I drop my phone back on my nightstand and roll out from the warmth of the sheets, the cold wood floors stinging my feet. My muscles are tight, and exhaustion pulls at my thoughts and eyes as I reach my dresser and fish out a pair of sweatpants and a clean tee before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the gym.

Once my teeth are brushed, and my mind is less fogged from sleep, I reach for my phone.

Raegan: Fake dating?!?!?!

Raegan: If you hurt Poppy, I’ll kill you. You know that, right?

Raegan: If you’re pretending to sleep, so help me…

Raegan: You can’t tell people it’s fake. I mean, you have to tell Lincoln, and maybe Caleb, but you can’t tell Arlo. He’ll tell everyone. Probably not intentionally, but he’s horrible at keeping secrets.

Raegan: And don’t help her to get back with Mike. He doesn’t deserve her.

 I roll my shoulders and then my neck, making the joints pop. This might have been a mistake. I clearly underestimated how inclined Raegan would be to voice her opinions, though I shouldn’t be shocked in the least. Neither of my sisters is subservient. There’s no way I could have expected her to sit on the sidelines when I’m involving her best friend.

I check the rest of my notifications, catching that Candace tagged me in a post of her out with a guy, her breasts and lips pressed to the asshole who’s on my own damn team. “Dammit, Derek fucking Paulson,” I grind the words out.

I go back to Rae’s messages and reply to her:

Me: You worry too much. I’ve known Poppy for almost her entire life. She’s like a sister to me.

Me: Also, I’ll pay you in pizza if you come over and watch tape with me tonight. I planned to get more in this weekend, but I went to Mom’s and helped her get some stuff done around the house.

Me: Also, did you tell her to paint her walls purple? It looks like Barney threw up in her living room, and I’m dodging this bullet.

 I slide my phone into my pocket and head downstairs where Lincoln’s in the kitchen, scrambling eggs.

“Rae teaching you how to cook?”

He looks over his shoulder at me. “I knew how to make scrambled eggs before dating Rae.”

I laugh. “You’re such a liar.”

He flips me off.

“You’re going to overcook them,” I tell him, turning the heat down from the medium-high he has it set on. “And overcooked eggs taste like ass.”

He glances at the clock on the oven. “I know, but I don’t want to be late.”

“Make some coffee,” I tell him, taking his spatula. “Did you put cheese in them or any seasoning?”

“I thought you salt them at the end?”

I reach for the salt and pepper. “No. Add it before you whisk them. Two turns for each egg,” I instruct. “And my extra credit of the day for you, Rae doesn’t like pepper in her scrambled eggs, only her fried eggs.”

He nods, and I can tell by his focus that he’s paying attention to each detail of my instructions. It’s a reminder that although having the two of them dating is weird, there’s a comfort in knowing he’s still working to be better—for her.

“I’ve got a situation,” I tell him, turning the eggs.

Lincoln glances up from the pan. “What kind of a situation?” Doubt is as evident in his expression as it is in his tone.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

He furrows his brow, and for a moment, I want to stretch the suspense and let him fear for the worst.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Depends. Are you going to stop looking at me like a fuck up?” I ask.

“That depends on if you fucked up.”

“The fact my sister likes you might be your only redemption.”

“A year ago, it was my condemnation.”

“It still is.”

He chuckles and grabs a banana that he starts to peel. “What’s your situation?”

I turn off the burner and grab a couple of plates. “Is Arlo here?”

“No. Why are you fucking with me? Tell me what happened.”

I fill a plate with eggs and hand it to him. “Poppy and I are going to pretend to date.”

Lincoln doesn’t take the plate. “Come again?”

“Coach Baker came by yesterday and caught the end of Candace screaming in the driveway.”

“Why was she here?”

“She wanted to talk about us getting back together,” I tell him.

“And so you shoved Poppy onto that grenade?”

“Not on Candace, just Coach. And she was actually the one who did it. Coach was laying into me, and Poppy came outside and eluded to us dating, and he totally ate it up. It was like her standing next to me made him stop seeing me as a degenerate.”

“Rae’s going to kill you.”

I shake my head. “Poppy’s going to benefit from this, too. She wants to get back with her ex, and I volunteered to play her wingman.”

Reluctance furrows his brow as he finally takes the plate. “This is not going to end well.”

“Says the guy who dated my little sister behind my back.”

He sets the plate down on the table and raises both hands. “Trust me, that was never my intention. I regretted that, and you know I did, but it wasn’t like I chose to like your sister. Believe me when I say I tried really hard not to have feelings for her. If you’ll remember, last year after her accident, I didn’t see her for weeks.”

“You were a raging asshole during that time.”

He grabs two forks, his eyebrows raised as though I’ve arrived at his exact point. “And now everyone says I’m mellow.”

I scoff. “Mellow? Who the fuck says you’re mellow?”

He grins. “People.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“Poppy thinks I’m