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

that same tender yet assured pressure, coaxing me to silence my thoughts and just fall into the rhythm my body knows. My nerves flicker and course with each nip that drives us into a deeper kiss, and each time his tongue becomes more artful as he explores my mouth. His grip constricts each time this happens, urging me forward like a silent approval. I feel dazed, mesmerized by the heat and pressure of his mouth, the flawless kiss that proves that I was wrong about Paxton and his kissing skills—he isn’t a lousy kisser. No instead, he is an outstanding, expert, lethal kisser. I pull away first, a groan stuck in my throat. His eyes stay closed for a second, and I stare at him, willing myself to remember this expression—every perfect detail.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the sudden thought.

Pax opens his eyes, a dazzling smile on his lips and touching his eyes like he knows he just earned the Emmy for best kiss. “I brought you a green tea,” he says, passing me a cup.

The warm liquid warms my hand, and he earns the People’s Choice Award for having kissed me like that with only one hand.

“I’ll see you later,” he winks, and then he’s gone.

Wednesday, I arrive at Mario’s with more assuredness. Dominic greets me by name with a smile. I am starting to enjoy our study dates. Being here is easy and fun, and the pizza is fantastic.

“Your girl’s here!” Dominic announces as I come inside.

Pax looks up from where he’s seated at the same table from Sunday and shares a friendly grin. I hear his thoughts. See, he believes us. I remind myself I should be taking the same inventory list, ensuring that people are buying our lie, but I’m tired and hungry. I overslept this morning and didn’t have time to eat or put on makeup or do anything with my hair.

I unpack my laptop and sit across from him, pulling up the assignment I completed late last night. Too late. I knew it would need thorough proofreading because I wrote much of it with only one eye open.

“Pizza and garlic knots?” Pax finally asks, shaking his head slightly, then placing an empty cup in front of me. “Just pizza? Just garlic knots?”

“Both,” I tell him. “I skipped breakfast to make it to class on time.”

“You mentioned your class schedule for Wednesday sucks.”

I nod. “An early class, a late morning class, and then a late afternoon class.” I sigh. “It’s like having your days off being split up. But, it works well for being able to come and see you.” It’s not meant to sound like it does. Like I’m flirting or that it’s more than happenstance. He grins but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“You want to go to a party on Friday?”

My brow lowers. “You have a game on Saturday.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious, for that report. Now, do you want to go?”

“Feed me first. Sarcasm and hunger are too much to take on at once.”

He chuckles and heads to the counter where he places our order with Dominic before returning to his seat. He pulls out a textbook, laying it on the counter so it touches mine. I glance at the header and see “Professional Communications.”

Pax is looking at me with a sly smirk on his face.

“Why are you smirking?”

“We’re having another study date. We’re doing good with these rules.”

“Are you behind in any classes?”

He does another dismissive shrug. “Only in my marketing class.”

“Because you don’t like it?”

“Because it’s on Fridays, so I miss it with away games, and the professor’s a dick and won’t post shit online.”

“You should find someone who can share their notes with you.”

“I also hate the class.”

His admission makes me laugh. The timer for our pizza goes off, and Pax heads to the counter. The tray he drops off has two mammoth-sized slices of pizza, loaded with olives and cheese that is lightly browned and a half dozen garlic knots. My mouth waters, and my stomach grumbles as he slides a side of pesto to me.

“Thanks,” I say, offering an appreciative smile.

Pax nods, his gaze already on his textbook as the pizza cools, so I take the opportunity to study him for a moment. Pax has really great hair. It’s several shades darker than Rae’s, a dark dishwater blond, and it always looks tousled and perfect.

I turn my focus back to my own homework, munching on a garlic knot as I read the text.

Eventually, Pax grabs his own garlic knot.

We study in near silence, eating and reading and occasionally typing until my alarm sounds, telling me I need to leave for class.

“Find someone in your marketing class who will email you notes, and I’ll go to the party,” I tell him as I start to put my things away.

Pax grins. “I guess it wouldn’t kill me.” He packs up his things and walks me to my car. I’m nervous, wondering if this is going to be like our kiss yesterday, but before I can overthink it, Pax opens my door for me.

“The party is a little north. No dress code.”

“Thanks for lunch.”

He grins. “Anytime.” He smells like pizza instead of his usual scent as he leans close and drops a gentle kiss against my forehead. “See you Friday.”

The fifteen-minute drive isn’t long enough to digest whether the others will be at the party or if I should ask Rae or consider why I’m thinking about Paxton’s kiss that lacked all signs of intimacy.

“Hey,” Mike says, sliding into the seat next to mine. I look at him and then the empty chairs around us. When did it become so awkward talking to Mike? Was it before we broke up or after? “How’s it going?”

“Good.” My voice is too high and too chipper. I think about my appearance again and how messy my hair is. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. “How are you doing?”

“Did you know our moms hang out?”

I turn my attention to him, wondering