Writing the Rules: A Fake Dating Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  “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 my lower back, making my spine straighten.

  This is such a bad idea. Even for pretend.

  Outside, the morning air is brisk, the sky gray, and the grass damp. It’s the perfect weather to wrap up in blankets and binge Veronica Mars. Instead, I tread farther into the yard, losing Pax’s touch as I keep my eyes on the ground, searching for the missing keys.

  “I can’t believe how cold it gets here,” Maddie says, pulling her jacket tighter. It’s cute and fashionable and has me feeling extra drab in my leggings and white Brighton zip sweatshirt. If I’d known I would have to carry out this lie, I definitely would have showered and at least applied mascara.

  Mike glances at me, reading my thoughts about how mild it is this morning. “She keeps asking if it’s cold enough to snow.”

  Paxton releases a gentle laugh. “Seattle’s pretty mild. I’m sure you’ll acclimate. You’ll have to head up toward Canada or the other side of the Cascades to see much snow.” Pax looks at me. “Leavenworth is pretty cool, and they get snow. We went there, and Poppy loved it.”

  “Is it super outdoorsy? I’m not really…” She cringes as if not wanting to admit that she’s not an outside type of girl. Her honesty brushed with her fear of acceptance only makes me like her more, though.

  “No. I mean, it can be. It’s a charming German town. Everything is themed. All of the architecture and signs look like a small Bavarian village. You can do things outside, or they have lots of small shops and restaurants.”

  “Poppy was obsessed with a chocolate shop we found there,” Pax adds, surprising me. We went to Leavenworth three years ago with his parents during the summer. I was Rae’s plus one, and he’d brought Lincoln and Caleb. I’d expected the three of them to do their own thing, but they ended up spending most of the three-day weekend with their parents and us, exploring the small town and going on long afternoon hikes, and returning to a small chocolate shop we’d discovered on the first day. I can’t believe he remembers, especially considering I’d nearly forgotten.

  “I love chocolate,” Maddie says. “That sounds fun.” She looks at Mike again.

  “It’s really touristy,” he says, as though dismissing the idea that it could be fun. “Here they are.” Mike leans down and scoops the keys out of the grass.

  “Thank goodness. I don’t think my landlord would look very highly on me if I had to go ask for new keys three days after I moved in.” Her words have my attention cutting to Mike, trying to read between the lines. Do they not live together? Did she transfer here after he did?

  “Thanks so much for letting us interrupt your morning,” Maddie says, moving to stand beside Mike. He wraps an arm around her shoulder, the move practiced and automatic.

  “Yeah. No problem,” Pax says, mirroring Mike’s movements but taking it a step further by pulling me close to his body and placing a kiss on my temple.

  “We should totally do a double date,” Maddie suggests excitedly.

  “We would, but we’re swamped right now,” I say.

  “Yeah. We’re in the thick of football season,” Pax says. “Between that and school, it can be tough to find a break to breathe. We’re pretty much homebodies.”

  Mike nods, and his gaze shifts between Paxton’s hand on my shoulder and our faces. “Well, I’m sure we’ll be seeing you guys around campus at some point or maybe another party.”

  I nod in agreement, relief seeping through each muscle in my body as this conversation draws to a close. I remind myself that he’s already been on campus for over a month, and I hadn’t seen him until he reached out and asked to meet. This knowledge gives me hope that I won’t see them again in the near future and will have time to come up with an excuse for a fake breakup with Paxton that I can practice and make it sound believable on the off chance I do run into either of them on campus. “See you guys later.”

  We walk them back through the house, closing the front door like a heavy book that I plan to shelve and never read again. I release a heavy sigh. “Thank you. Sorry that was awkward.”

  Pax shakes his head. “It was nothing.”

  “That would have been so embarrassing if they found out I lied.”

  A grin pulls at Paxton’
s lips. “Would it have mattered?”

  “What?”

  “Why’d you tell him you had a boyfriend?”

  That relief I’d felt only mere seconds ago abandons me. “I don’t know. I just … didn’t want him to think I was still waiting for him.”

  “Still?” Pax asks.

  “Still what?”

  “You said you’re still waiting for him.”

  Heat rises to my cheeks.

  “You’re not over him.” It isn’t a question.

  “Yes. Yeah. Of course, I am. We’ve been broken up for fourteen months.”

  “You’re counting?” His surprise has him pulling his chin back.

  “It’s easy math. We broke up right after graduation.”

  He nods, bringing one hand to his head where he runs his fingers over his mussed hair, but his eyes tell me he doesn’t believe me.

  “I’m over him,” I say. “I just… It was a big deal.”

  His eyes soften with empathy, making me wonder if he’s thinking about Candace. “I get it,” he says.

  And as much as I want to avoid the thoughts and feelings that come with thinking about my breakup with Mike and how Paxton might be experiencing them as well, I know he understands.

  7

  Paxton

  My parent’s divorce has been anything but amicable. I guess that’s to be expected, considering my dad threw away twenty-five years of marriage to sleep with someone more than half his age—more than once. Once the first affair went public, more women came forward with similar accusations and stories. He likely would have continued having affairs with students at Brighton had his most recent scandal not been caught on tape and distributed across social media for all of Seattle to see.

  My mom’s moved into her own place, near our grandpa and our step-grandma, Camilla. It’s a lot smaller than our old house, but she ensured it had two spare bedrooms and an open invitation for us to stay whenever needed.

  Rae’s better at visiting and remembering things like checking in and making sure Mom doesn’t need anything, which is why I’m pulling into my mom’s driveway. Rae reminded me that Mom got her new job as the superintendent of the school district she’s been working at for the past nineteen years and I came to celebrate with her.

  I shut off my car and lean back in my seat, taking in the house. It’s dark blue and has white-painted bricks along the front and a giant picture window with shutters with peeling red paint. Like the rest of the houses on the block, it was built in the eighties and has a carport rather than a garage, and hasn’t had any updates since it was built. Grandpa said the house was a steal because Seattle’s real estate market has soared over the past ten years, yet I struggle to see that as my gaze bounces around the overgrown shrubs and trees and the chipped edging around the flower bed that housed mostly weeds this past summer. Inside, the projects only continue.

  I knock twice. Mom pulls open the door with a smile that grows when she sees the flowers I’m holding. “You didn’t need to get these.”

  “It’s not every day my mom gets the big job. Congrats, by the way.” I pull her into a hug.

  Mom pulls back with a weary smile. “Thanks, Pax.” She recently cut her hair, remarking it was time for the change.

  “I like your hair,” I tell her.

  She raises a hand and gingerly touches it. “I’m learning how to take care of it. It seems crazy that I didn’t know I had curly hair or how to treat it for the past sixty years.” She pulls the door open even wider. “Come on in.”

  I blink several times as I take in the newly painted purple walls. “Wow,” I remark. “It’s … purple.”

  She grins as she closes the door. “It’s lilac.” She looks around. “I can’t decide if I like it.”

  I swallow my words to encourage her not to like it and suggest painting a more neutral color. “If you like it, you should keep it.”

  “You don’t think people will consider if I’m nuts for having a lilac living room?”

  I shrug. “Who cares what they think.”

  Mom’s smile turns grateful like she needed to hear this assurance. I know her divorce has been challenging. All of her friends were “their” friends, just like many places she liked to go to eat and get coffee.

  “You ready for your first day on the job?” I ask, following her to the large gray sectional she bought to fill the room. “I like the couch,” I say before she can answer my question, taking a seat beside her. “It’s comfortable.”

  Mom laughs. “I need Rae to come over and help me decorate the place, but I like the couch, too.”

  “We can get some more stuff done today.”

  Mom releases a heavy breath. “I’m not really in the mood to work on the house. I forgot how much work house projects are.” Mom and Dad had lived in their last house for seventeen years, and while there was an endless to-do list, they had done many of the larger projects like painting and buying new area rugs, and fencing in the backyard long ago. “How was the party last night?”

  I shrug.

  Mom chuckles. “Don’t tell your sister. She worked really hard on it.”

  “It wasn’t bad. I don’t mean to sound like such a jerk. Everyone had a good time.”

  “I’m sure this year feels different,” Mom says, nodding.

  “It does. This is the first year Candace and I haven’t celebrated Halloween together since I was in high school.”

  Mom stares at me. She’s also not a member of Candace’s fan club, but she’s never been as outwardly opposed to our relationship, either.

  “I know you and Candace have broken up before, but it seems different this time. You seem different.”

  I nod. “It is. It has to be. I can’t keep doing this. And after watching what you went through with Dad…” I shake my head. “I know that if Candace and I were to continue forcing this and trying to stay together, we’re just going to hurt each other. We already have.”

  Mom places her hand on my knee, her lips tilted with a kind smile. “Your parents must have done a good job with you.”

  I chuckle, placing my hand over hers. “Sorry I haven’t been around much.”

  She shakes her head. “You’re busy. I understand. You’ve always been like me and get even busier when things are bothering you. I think it helps us weed through our thoughts and feelings.”

  I think of all the extra hours I’ve put in at the gym over the past couple of weeks and time studying tape and cleaning the house with the excuse of the party.

  “I know you can’t get up and leave like I did when everything started to fall apart, but it doesn’t mean you have to pretend to be happy, either. If you need some time just to be, you always have a room here. There are even new beds, and I finally bought bedding so you can sleep without freezing.”

  I chuckle. “Did you knit the blankets? Because I might freeze if you did.”

  She hits me with the back of her hand, her smile confirming I’m right. “No. I bought them.”

  “Have you heard from Maggie lately?”

  Mom nods. “She’s loving Nigeria. She’s on a mini-vacation to Zanzibar, Tanzania, this weekend. Did she send you pictures?”

  “She sent me a picture of the ocean and how you could see her feet through the water. It was unreal.”

  “I know. I thought our mild weather was pretty good until she sent me those pictures. I don’t think I’ve ever seen sand so light or water so clear.”

  “Bucket list it, Mom.”

  She smiles.

  “I’m serious. You should make a list of places you want to go and things you want to do. You work all the time. You need to sprinkle in some fun.”

  She winces. “Speaking of fun, your dad messaged me.” She never calls him by name anymore, only ever refers to him as ‘our dad.’ It’s more appropriate than the alternatives, but it still delivers a reminder of how different things are. “He said Coach Harris reached out to him, concerned about your place on the team.”

  I pull in a de
ep breath and let it sit in my chest for several seconds before releasing it. “I don’t know how much harder I can work to show them I’m dedicated.”

  Maybe she hears the edge in my voice or sees the tremble of my hand. Or possibly she just understands the weight that comes with loss and the ramifications it sometimes drives us toward because, unlike so many others, she doesn’t remind me of what I might lose or how I’ve fucked up. She simply leans against me like I used to lean against her when I was the shorter one in our pair. “You want to stick around for dinner? We could make some spaghetti and garlic bread.”

  “Have I ever said no to garlic bread?”

  Mom laughs, and I absorb the sound as she reaches for the remote and passes it to me, silently offering me a safe place just to be.

  The next day, I’m finishing the second load of laundry when my phone starts to blow up again.

  Candace: Can we please talk?

  Candace: I’m worried about you. Why aren’t you responding?

  Candace: If you don’t reply, I’m coming over.

  I lean against the doorframe and consider my options.

  Me: I’m fine. I just don’t have anything to say.

  Candace: Why do you get to be the one who’s mad?

  Me: I’m not mad.

  Candace: Then why are you ignoring me? I need to talk to you. I’m coming over.

  I know there’s no use in telling her not to. She’s likely already on her way. Instead of avoiding her and the conversation, I stalk downstairs, where the living room seems cleaner than it’s ever been. The wood floors have a shine after the cleaning crew that came by and rid the remains of the party, so now the only signs of Halloween lie on our dining room table in the form of decorations.