Writing the Rules: A Fake Dating Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  Poppy turns and takes a step like she’s actually considering going before I grip her arm to stop her.

  The nearly naked stranger raises her eyebrows, silent questions about Poppy and her role in my life apparent.

  “She’s my little sister’s best friend,” I explain.

  Poppy turns around as though just now realizing she interrupted our conversation. “Yes. Hi. That’s me. Little sister’s best friend.” She places a hand on her chest. “Completely neutral and not posing one iota of a threat. Nice to meet you.” She swings her gaze back to me. “By the way, I’m not accusing you of having alcohol. I’m simply inquiring.”

  “What’s your costume?” the girl asks.

  Poppy’s green eyes narrow with annoyance, but she keeps her gaze on me, a silent plea to help before she volleys her attention to the girl. “I’m Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit? It’s a classic.” She says this like she’s exhausted from explaining her costume or like she’s tired of giving a shit at all. A sigh confirms her fatigue, and she takes a step back, a jagged smirk on her lips as her gaze drops to the ground and she turns.

  “Poppy, wait,” I say.

  She looks over her shoulder. “That’s okay. Sorry I interrupted.”

  “Poppy!” I jog a couple of steps to catch up with her.

  “No. It’s fine. You found…” she looks back and then meets my eyes, “a second Candace.”

  “Now we’re trading insults?” I ask.

  “Pretty sure she took the first shot.”

  I grin. “Fair enough. What’s got you in such a mood?”

  Her shoulders fall. “Nothing. Truly. I’m sorry I interrupted your…” She shakes her head. “Actually, I’m not. I’m not sorry. She seemed like a bitch, and it has nothing to do with her costume and me feeling inferior. She seems like a bitch because of her snotty tone and death glares. After everything you’ve gone through, the last thing you want or need is another Candace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find that guy with the booze and you should find someone else to hang out with.”

  “This must be a big deal if you’re willing to take alcohol from a stranger.”

  She lifts her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal.” Embarrassment tinges her cheeks.

  “Come on. I have a bottle up in my room that my grandpa gave me when I turned twenty-one.” I nod in the direction of the house.

  We head inside and stop at the stairway where multiple strands of yellow warning tape are hung to deter people. Poppy reaches out to start clearing a path.

  “That will take forever,” I say. “Ready? Up you go.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders and one under the back of her knees and scoop her up, catching her completely off guard. Before she can contest the act, I lift her over the tape, then use the wall and the banister to hop over the same height.

  “That was borderline impressive,” Poppy says, looking back at the tape.

  I grin at her almost compliment. “So, what brought on the sudden urge to skip out on your own party and get trashed?”

  She takes a deep breath and sighs. “My ex is here.”

  “Chase?”

  She shakes her head, then nods. “He’s here, too.” Her gaze flips back to the party like she’s just now remembering this fact. “This has been a long night. I’ve been trying to avoid Chase and Mike and dodge questions that I don’t have answers to, and I’ve realized I’m a terrible liar. Like, really, really awful.”

  “That’s a good trait.”

  “Unless you already lied.”

  “To Chase?”

  “No, to my ex.”

  “Who isn’t Chase?”

  “No. Mike.” She sounds exasperated.

  “High school Mike?”

  She nods. “That’s the one.”

  “He’s here?”

  Poppy smiles, but it’s a lie as well and comes across as artificial as she’s claiming her verbal lies do. “With his new girlfriend.”

  Poppy has been Rae’s best friend for as long as I can recall. The two have been inseparable regarding all things except for football which was the stitching to mine and Rae’s relationship for several years and therefore precluded Poppy. Still, she’s been a part of my life long enough to know the essential details of the breakup that included him ending things to move across the country and her losing sleep and tears over the asshole. I’m also aware of how she’d sworn off dating last year.

  “Why don’t we just kick his ass out of here. Who invited him?” I grip the rail to jump back over the tape, but Poppy grabs my hand.

  “If we kick him out, then it looks like I care, and that him being here bothers me.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” I ask.

  “Did I mention his girlfriend moved across the country with him, and they’ve transferred to Brighton?”

  I blow out a short breath. “One drink, and then I’ll lean on the curfew card.”

  Poppy’s shoulders lower with an audible sigh as she removes her hand from mine. “Thank you. I might hide out up here until it’s over.”

  “Not passed out. Rae would kill me.”

  She grins. “I have no intention of drinking until I’m passed out or blacked out or anything out. I just need some liquid courage so that when I do go back downstairs to help clean up, I don’t have to admit to everyone that I remember nearly no details from the party because I was too busy avoiding my past.”

  I tilt my head toward the top of the stairs, and it’s the only hint she needs to finish the climb and walk down the long hallway that leads to four bedrooms and two bathrooms.

  I open my door, and Poppy follows me in, her steps hesitant like she’s second-guessing her decision. Her gaze travels to the red and white Brighton U flag on my wall, then the poster of the Seahawks from a decade ago, before she moves her attention to my desk and the bookshelves my dad helped me build that are filled with books my grandpa has given me over the years, instilling in me that being well-read was as crucial as being well-traveled and well-rounded. Her attention stops on the space above my bed, where there are just a couple of framed pictures of my family and multiple gaps and empty nails from where pictures of Candace had been.

  I move to my closet and withdraw a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf. It’s malted and has only been uncorked a couple of times, too good to be a conduit for getting wasted. It’s a drink to be savored for a celebration, but it's the only bottle I currently have, so I grab it and two coffee cups from my desk—a recent gift from Maggie that I haven’t brought down to the kitchen yet. I pour two fingers for each of us and then cork the whiskey.

  Poppy is looking at the blank spaces on my wall again. “I heard you guys were taking a break.”

  “We broke up,” I correct her, handing her the mug.

  Poppy looks at me, the hint of a smirk on her face telling me she doesn’t believe me. No one does. Candace and I have broken up more times than I can count, and we’ve continued to get back together.

  “It’s really over this time,” I insist.

  “What makes this time different?”

  “Because I can’t keep doing this. My coaches don’t trust me. My teammates don’t trust me. Everyone keeps looking at me like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

  “And you think not dating Candace will help?” Her eyes pinch as though she’s afraid of my answer.

  “It’s complicated. I don’t blame her for my actions. Nothing I’ve done has been her fault. It’s both of us. We bring out the worst in each other. But we have to get off the carousel because it’s starting to bleed into areas of my life that I can’t afford for it to impact.”

  “Football?”

  I nod.

  “I know people give you a hard time about her and that she’s made some poor decisions, but I think it’s admirable that you don’t throw her under the bus.” Poppy proves once more why I’m grateful she’s Rae’s best friend. In a world filled with judgment and farce, Poppy has always seen the good in everyone and everyth
ing.

  “What happened with Mike? Why did you guys break up?”

  She tilts the cup in her hands, looking at the whiskey, and then swallows all of it with a wince. “We knew that the odds were stacked against us with him moving across the country. We wanted to end things amicably before someone made a mistake and possibly hurt the other.”

  “But, you didn’t really want to break up?”

  Her green eyes jump to mine. She takes the cup in my hands and swallows the contents. “I don’t know.”

  I’m mildly amused and also slightly disappointed she drank my pour. I also hate that her answer makes so much sense. If anyone were to ask me why Candace and I kept trying and kept hurting each other, I wouldn’t be able to answer, either.

  “So, what was your lie?” I ask.

  Her eyes narrow with a cringe. “It’s nothing. Just something stupid.”

  “It led you to seek me and alcohol out. Clearly, it’s not nothing.”

  Her cheeks tinge pink. “I met Mike and his new girlfriend and told them I’m dating someone.”

  “To make him jealous?”

  She blows out a long breath. “Maybe? Probably? I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

  I shrug. “Don’t sweat it. Everyone lies about dating someone at one point or another to get out of a situation or get into one. Besides, you probably won’t see them again.”

  “People lie and say they’re dating to make someone interested?” She looks genuinely baffled.

  I chuckle, thinking of how I’ve used the lie when Candace and I were on breaks. There’s something about jealousy that would turn certain women on. Certain women like Candace.

  Poppy stares at me for a moment, a look of hesitation that has a fine line creasing over her left brow. “I don’t know what my intention was.”

  6

  Poppy

  Regret is hitting me like a hangover this morning as I help Raegan and Lincoln clean up after the Halloween party. My thoughts were so preoccupied when I got home last night that my journal entry was filled with Mike—how I’d been on edge at the idea he might come to the party, my discomfort when he did show up with Maddie and Tanner, and my worry that he would know I was lying. My costume and the time spent getting ready for the party now feel like a waste. I wish I could redo the night because I’d have spent my time doing a million other things other than caring about him or Chase.

  “I had no idea people were so gross,” Rae says as she peels a chewed wad of gum off the living room wall.

  Lincoln frowns. “I need some caffeine before I can deal with this.”

  “We could go to Beam Me Up. They have that hazelnut drink back that you like,” Rae says, dropping her garbage bag.

  “Yes, I miss their muffins.” Lincoln grins. For three years, Rae worked at the local coffee shop before quitting last spring when she started to work for the aquarium and volunteer for a cytologist.

  Rae looks at me as she grabs her coat. “Come on. We’ll get to this when we get back. Maybe by that time, the others will be awake.”

  “That’s okay. I’m going to gather all of the loose cans and put them in the recycling bin and then start picking up the backyard.”

  I sense her doubt and reluctance for me to stay behind as her blue eyes connect with mine. Since Mike returned last week, she’s been my shadow. I’m sure she’s waiting for me to crack, the reminder of summer after our senior year still plaguing her thoughts. Similar to then, I feel a draw toward isolation, but I don’t feel the same emptiness and need to wallow.

  “Your girlfriend’s checking me out more than she’s checking you out,” I tell Lincoln.

  He grins as he drapes his arm around Rae’s shoulders. “Can we pick something up for you? Do you want a green tea? Or a chai tea?”

  Raegan’s gaze turns soft. Lincoln has started to familiarize himself with me as much as I have with him. It’s strange and endearing and weirdly comfortable, a reminder that I can socialize with the opposite sex.

  “A green tea would be great. Thanks.”

  “Don’t worry about the mess,” he says, grabbing his coat. “I hired a cleaning crew to come this afternoon.”

  Rae pulls her chin back. “You did?”

  He nods. “You said it yourself; people are disgusting. And this being one of the few three-day weekends this semester, I didn’t want to spend the day cleaning. We’re going to go get breakfast, and then you have to pack a bag because we’re going on an overnight trip.”

  Her excitement and surprise are cut short by her concern for me.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her before she can try to come up with an excuse. “I promise.”

  Lincoln looks between us. I don’t know what or how much she’s shared with him about Mike, but I’m guessing it’s not a lot based upon his visible confusion. This is one of the million reasons I know Rae is my best friend. She would do nearly anything for me because we’re more than friends—we’re sisters. And while I know she loves Lincoln with her whole heart, I also know it doesn’t make her love me any less.

  “My ex moved back and he showed up at the party last night, and Rae’s worried I’m going to relapse and cry in my Cheerios,” I tell him.

  Lincoln frowns. “Why didn’t you guys say something? I would have gladly kicked his ass out.”

  “I didn’t want to kick him out. I needed this. Closure and … whatever. I got to see him and realize he’s happy, and he’s dating a girl who seems nice, and things are still good and friendly between us.”

  Lincoln looks at Raegan. “Maybe she should counsel Paxton and Candace so they can have a breakup like this.”

  Rae rolls her eyes, calling my bluff.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her. “This will be good for you guys. Go be a couple and do couple things. I’m going to clean out my closet, catch up on homework, bake some cupcakes, and binge-watch Veronica Mars.”

  “More cupcakes?” Rae asks.

  “I picked up the liners. And because Olivia crushed my love for pre-made frosting, telling me it has palm oil in it and how that kills the orangutans, I’ve found a frosting recipe.”

  Rae’s eyebrows tick upward. “That you’re going to make? From scratch?”

  “I can do it.”

  She does a lousy job of hiding her doubt.

  “Go get my green tea,” I order.

  Lincoln cracks a smile as he pulls the door open and kisses Rae’s temple. “Let’s go,” he tells her.

  Rae keeps her attention on me for a moment, looking for a confirmation I’m not sure how to offer. I want to. I want to feel the same assurance myself because the idea of having Mike living in the same city and attending the same school makes the walls feel like they’re closing in on me.

  “Will you get me a bagel, too, please? Onion or everything with the herbed cream cheese.” One of the things that makes Rae feel better is helping, and giving her a task is guaranteed to help distract her from my relationship status. Plus, I’m starving.

  “Yes. Absolutely. We’ll be back shortly.” She spins toward the door that Lincoln is still holding open.

  He looks back at me. Most would consider Lincoln Beckett to be one of the kings of broody. He hates bullshit, drama, and most people, and never would I advise anyone to cross him, but behind his tough exterior lies a gentleness and kindness that is a thousand percent genuine. I have no doubt he’d do anything for Rae, or me for that matter. “This guy sounds like a total dick,” he says. “His loss, Poppy. Definitely his loss.”

  I offer a rueful smile as he closes the door, but my bottom lip trembles, making it difficult to keep in place. I don’t know why I feel the rush of emotions, but I have no interest in reflecting on any of the feelings that have my chest and throat feeling tight, a few of them escaping in the form of tears down my cheeks. I hastily wipe them away and pull in a steadying breath.

  I grab the garbage bag and wander through the house, cleaning up apples, cups, cans, bottles, plates, and random items people left behind.

&nb
sp; “Hey,” Pax says, wiping his eyes as he rounds the corner and leans against the doorframe. He’s wearing a pair of black sweatpants, his chest bare, showing off a pattern of tattoos that cover his forearm like bands and script that marks his torso.

  The cup I was holding falls, splashing the bottom cupboard with vodka that people had begun drinking straight from the kiddie pool where the apples were.

  Pax 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.