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

apartment, Rae and Lincoln are in the kitchen, prepping to cook. “Hey,” Rae greets us with a smile.

The three of them discuss football and school and casual conversations that are filled with banter and require little from me, thankfully because my thoughts are like a coin circling a funnel as I consider why Pax still has so many things from Candace and why it’s bothering me so much.

It isn’t until we sit to eat that I realize the conversation is mostly running thanks to Rae and Paxton. Lincoln, like me, is quiet, but tonight, watchful is the most accurate way to describe him. Every time Pax or I move, Lincoln’s gaze follows, which grows increasingly uncomfortable. I wonder what Pax told him. I can tell he’s doubtful over whatever he knows, his gaze too intense. If Pax notices, it doesn’t deter him as he easily makes his way through conversation and dinner. To me, it feels like an audition. Yet, I can understand his reservations, considering how this situation started.

“I need to run to the store,” Rae says as we finish clearing the dishes. “We’re out of laundry detergent, and all of my uniform shirts are dirty.”

A pang of guilt hits me. It’s my fault. Rae and I split responsibilities and chores like a married couple. I do our shopping. I used to do it every Wednesday because I had a four-hour block in the middle of my day. Now, I spend that time at Mario’s Pizzeria and try to get shopping whenever I have time, which as of late hasn’t been much. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had time to go this week.”

Rae waves me away. “It’s not your fault, and it’s no big deal. Boys, you’re in charge of dishes. You want to come with me?” Her invitation to me only confirms that Lincoln’s acting strangely.

I don’t even take a glance at the boys as I nod. “Yeah. Let me grab my jacket.”

Paxton

“So this is real now?” Lincoln asks while he loads the dishwasher, and I pack away the leftovers.

“I told you it was.”

“How real?”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Have you told your mom?”

“What does that mean?” I laugh, trying to comprehend the meaning behind his question.

“You tell your mom everything.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious, so I’m going to need a little more.”

Lincoln rinses another plate. “When you set your mind to something, you tell your mom.”

“I don’t.”

He nods. “When we talked about moving out together. When you talked about wanting to date Candace. When you broke up with Candace…”

I stop what I’m doing and focus on his point. “Shit. Am I a mama's boy?”

“Without a single doubt,” he tells me. “But it’s cool because your mom’s cool. Rae does the same thing. It’s weird as fuck to me because I basically hear from my mom on bank holidays and when the local news talks about me, but you guys are close, and so it’s your norm.”

“I haven’t told my mom, yet. But it’s not because this isn’t real. It’s because she’s been going through a divorce and telling her I’m back in a relationship—a healthy relationship with someone I care a lot about and who my mom loves and knows, no less—seems shitty.”

“Are you ready to be back in another relationship? You and Candace haven’t been broken up for that long.”

“We’ve been done for a while, we just hadn’t gone through the formalities. We both have known it’s been over.”

“And that’s why she came over and had a screaming match in our driveway that led you to a fake relationship?”

“Are you going to speak your mind or just be a dick?”

He shrugs. “Maybe a little of both.”

“You like Poppy. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Lincoln turns, folding both arms over his chest. “You’re right. I do like Poppy.” He stares at me, trepidation marring his face. “You’re my best friend, Pax, and you’re going to want to punch me after I tell you this, but I’m worried that you’re going to fuck this up.”

“We’ve been doing this for six weeks, and it stopped feeling fake after the second week.”

“It looks fucking real, which is why people have bought into it. But, you tend to sabotage shit when things start going well for you.”

“Are we really going over this again? Last year was shit.”

“When things went to hell, you kept it together and pulled everyone out, just like you do on the field. But when things were good, it was like you got scared of things being too good and you’d bring yourself back down to what you deemed you deserved.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last fall when you were getting all of that attention from the news, you ended up buck ass naked in someone’s attic. And when Coach told you he believed you’d be invited to the draft, you went to a party and got so drunk you passed out on the lawn.”

I want to object and point out his flawed logic—that I couldn’t wallow when the lows were actively occurring because too many depended on me. I had to wait until the storm settled to finally blow off steam.

“You’re one hell of a quarterback. If I had to gamble on someone’s future, it would be yours.” He pauses, smirking at me. “Once you lose your stomach, it’s like you’re made of iron, but then you get off the field and that confidence wanes, and you go and do something stupid. I think that’s why you’ve always gotten back together with Candace. You don’t feel like you deserve more or better, so you just kept going back.”

“So you think Poppy’s too good for me?”

Lincoln shrugs. “I’m worried you think she is.” He leans against the counter. “Think of this conversation like watching tape. We’re talking tendencies and habits and being aware. We all do this shit. I was scared shitless by Rae, and if you talk to Banks, he’ll tell you Chloe scared the hell out of him, too.”

“I don’t feel afraid,” I tell him. “I feel