by Mariah Dietz
“Your bruise is looking better,” I say, tracing lightly over the purple mark on his forearm left from last week’s game with my finger.
Paxton’s eyes dart to mine with a silent question that has my heart feel like it’s free-falling again.
The door chime alerts us of a customer, but neither of us moves for several seconds, drawing attention to the fact I’m still touching him.
“You want your usual?” Pax asks me.
I nod and reach for my backpack as an older couple steps up to the counter and recognizes Pax as he stands behind them. He greets them, flashing a smile that is toothy and friendly and holds an endearing quality that makes everyone so drawn to him, reminding me it’s not a private look he’s sharing with me every time he greets me.
We’re focused today, him preparing for a test and me too distracted to find casual conversation. When we wrote the rules, we’d discussed me helping him with his marketing class. And even though I haven’t taken any marketing courses, I was ready to dive in and help however I could. I’ve learned that Paxton didn’t actually need help—he needed focus. Instead, he’s been helping me with my microeconomics, a course that my left-brained self has been struggling with all semester.
I’m packing my things, getting ready to leave as Pax refills my cup with Coke to give me the caffeine boost I claimed I needed. These hours always seem to pass in seconds.
“Rae said you’re leaving early on Friday,” he says, grabbing my coat and holding it out for me to put on.
I nod. “Yeah. I think we’re going to go explore Spokane a little.”
“We should be in Pullman around four. We’ll watch tape and do some classroom work with the coaching staff. I should be free around eight. How are you getting from Spokane to Pullman?”
“It’s a crapshoot. We might hitchhike or walk or take a train.” I say as I zip my bag.
He chuckles. “You guys did look it up, right?”
“Look what up?”
“Where Pullman is.”
“Not yet because we’re spontaneous, and we like to live on the edge of our seats.”
He rewards me with another wide smile that has my heart thumping and every flirtatious line and action preparing for their moment on stage. “Downtown Spokane isn’t far from the Spokane airport. Fifteen minutes, maybe, but going to Pullman is another ninety minutes.”
“That is going to be one long walk.”
Pax grins and grabs his bag, prepared to walk me to my car like he still does every time we hang out. “Catching a ride out there with a Lyft will be the safest bet.”
“Bye, Poppy! See you, Pax,” Dominic calls, waving from the back where they make the pizzas.
“Bye, Dominic. See you Sunday.”
Pax waves at him and takes my backpack, leading me to the door, which he pulls open for me. “I was thinking maybe we could go and grab a late dinner on Friday. Maybe around eight-thirty if you guys are done with seeing Spokane and are at the hotel?”
“With Rae and Lincoln?”
“With you and me.”
My thoughts stumble fast and hard.
“We don’t have to,” he says. “I just thought it might be nice to hang out.”
“Yeah. I’d love to go.” I inwardly cringe because while this sounds like a date, I’m not positive that it is, and sounding so eager is guaranteed to complicate things.
But Paxton doesn’t seem deterred by my reaction. If anything, he seems almost relieved. “You know, you could start skipping political science. I could teach you all about it. I’ve still got it all right up here.” He taps his temple.
My smile is so broad and instant that my cheeks ache in response. “I’m pretty sure Dominic might get tired of seeing me that much.”
Pax scoffs and opens the back seat of my car, setting my bag on the seat. “He likes you.” He closes the door and faces me. “But, I’d probably take you to my house to tutor you.”
My pulse is racing, my head feels light, and I can’t stop smiling no matter how hard I try. This is definitely crossing the line and the rules and our arrangement … right? If he were anyone but Paxton, I’d be kissing him right now and testing his response, but the stakes are higher than ever because he’s not just some hot guy. He’s my best friend’s brother, and more than that, he’s my friend.
“Create a syllabus for me to review. Maybe I’ll take you up on the offer.” God help me, I just winked at him.
Paxton breaks into laughter, his chest expanding and his strong jaw and straight nose suddenly looking almost boyish with the expression. I love it. I want to take a picture on my phone and set it as my background so that every time I feel one iota of nerves or fear or any other negative emotion, I can remember him here and now and recall this feeling of excitement and joy and hope. He nods. “Okay. Deal.”
I reach for my door because I should have left ten minutes ago. As it is, I’m going to be chasing my professor to arrive on time.
The parking lot is empty except for Pax’s car. Every time I’m here, this kiss at the end of our study date seems both increasingly familiar and foreign at the same time. Like now, I wonder if it will happen since no one is around to see, and that is the entire purpose of the kiss per the rules. Paxton steps closer, and the wind blows harshly against my bare cheek, making me shiver and wish for the warmth of my car, but I don’t dare move.
Pax reaches forward, catching the wisps of hair that the wind manages to misplace, and tucks them behind my ear, once again surprising me by his gentleness. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Please.
Please.
Please.
I don’t mean to lean forward, but I realize as he closes the distance between us that I am. His lips seal over mine, soft and firm and painfully gentle considering the tension and desire currently coursing through my body that has me wanting to re-write every rule between us.
“Hey! Hey!” A familiar voice calls, pulling Paxton and me away too soon. Arlo is grinning at us like he’s seeing Santa Claus. “What’s up?”
I take a step back, suddenly embarrassed. Was he kissing me because he saw Arlo? “I have to get to class. I’m going to be late.”
Paxton places his hand between my shoulder blades. “I’ll text you after practice.” He leans in and kisses me again, a chaste show of a kiss that doesn’t have my body warming like the previous one.
I slide into my car with a genial smile—a show smile—because that is what this is, after all.
Everything is beginning to feel complicated. My feelings were so much simpler and more manageable when he was just Rae’s brother. Avoiding complications was the entire purpose of writing the rules. I need to study and memorize them before the trip like I would for a big exam and stop twisting every look and word to mean something they don’t.
I drive too fast, trying to get to class on time. Never would I risk being late for a class to hang out for a few more minutes with a guy, and yet I’m rushing to class and voluntarily chose to skip a class on Friday to go to an away game where I don’t even know that I’ll see him except for our dinner.
The thought of him asking me to go out for a late dinner—just the two of us—is where the lines begin to bleed together. Is it all for show? Is it because our friendship is starting to create a new and defined structure? I shake off the thoughts and head into the classroom as silently as possible, trying not to disrupt the lecture. Luck is on my side as I discover the class restlessly moving and talking, waiting for our professor to arrive.
“Hey, Poppy,” a girl I don’t know or recognize greets me.
I smile in response and consider sitting near her when an arm raises a few rows higher, catching my attention. Mike grins and pulls his chin back, patting the empty space beside him.
I take the steps, wondering if this is a bad idea or a terrible idea. Being around Mike is only adding to the mounting number of questions in my head.
I take a seat and quickly withdraw my laptop from my bag.
�
��You’re cutting it kind of close there,” Mike says as he grabs a Twix from his sweatshirt pocket. The action creates another time warp as memories from years past flood my thoughts. They were always his favorite candy, and because he was always on the thin side and working to gain weight, his mom bought them in bulk. Like then, Mike withdraws one of the cookies and slides the second one to me.
22
Poppy
I’m beginning to believe that the fix for any problem or issue is a girl’s day as Rae and I land in Spokane, Washington, leaving the drizzly Seattle skies behind in exchange for a clear and bright afternoon.
“We probably should have looked at what there is to do here,” Rae says as we wait for the plane doors to open. She grabs her phone and starts a search. “The top attractions are park, park, park, hiking, hiking, farm…” She looks up at me. “Dorothy, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
I laugh and take her phone. “There’s a city. We saw it while landing.” I scroll through the top attractions. “There’s a mall.”
“Where there’s a mall, there’s food. Let’s go there. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Olivia told me that she and Arlo came over here this summer to watch a basketball tournament, and they stopped at a candy shop downtown that has soft peanut brittle that she said was life-changing.”
Rae laughs. “Add it to our list!”
“Maybe we start at the mall, get something to eat, and then wander around and see what we can find. It sounds like that’s what Chloe and Nessie did on their road trip this past summer, and they had fun.”
“Yes. I’m just glad to spend the day with you. I feel like we’re both so busy that we’ve only been seeing each other in passing.”
“Agreed.”
The man behind us signals for us to get out into the aisle. I smile at him in thanks, and slide out into the aisle where I pull Rae’s bag down and then my own small suitcase.
As we near the front of the plane, icy air blows against my face, causing me to shiver. “Did we land in the Arctic?” I ask. The cold steals my breath as we hit the short ramp that leads outside instead of directly into the airport.
Rae releases a barely audible squeal behind me. “It’s freezing.”
“A balmy twenty-two,” I tell her, shivering as we follow the trail of people into the airport.
We follow the signs to baggage claim to find the exit, and then find a Lyft to take us downtown. Small snow berms line the streets, dirty from exhaust. It’s drier on this side of the Cascades, which means it’s also colder during the winter and hotter during the summer.
The drive to the mall downtown is short, allowing Raegan and I only enough time to realize we hadn’t considered pulling our suitcases around all day as we explored the city.
“I might need to buy some long underwear and a second coat for tomorrow’s game,” Raegan says as we make our way into the mall, where a display for Santa and a giant tree are set up.
My phone beeps with a text as we head up the escalators. Rae glances at me as I read the message that has my thoughts swirling. “Is that Pax?”
I shake my head. “Mike.”
“Mike’s messaging you?”
“He hasn’t been.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s a link.”
“To what?”
I shake my head, waiting for it to load. “A song,” I say as it pulls up a music video.
“A song?” There’s an edge of disbelief in her voice, likely because she knows Mike and I communicated with song lyrics long before we said words like, love, or dating. “What song?”
I release a long breath. “I don’t know.” I toss my phone into my purse. “I don’t want to know,” I admit. “He’s still dating Maddie.”
Rae listens to the words I’m not saying, contradicting thoughts and feelings that have been following me around for the past month. “I know you guys have a long history,” she says, her voice gentle. “I’m not condemning you for liking him. I know what it’s like to care about someone and still feel confused and conflicted.”
I’m silent, my thoughts torn, unable to explain that my hesitance is largely because the “someone” I picture in my head is Paxton.
“I’m not even sure it’s real,” I tell her, shocked by how the statement applies to both Mike and Pax.
“What do you mean?”
“Mike wasn’t even interested in trying a long-distance relationship,” I tell her. “He never reached out to me in the entire year and a half he was gone.”
Raegan’s gaze slowly tracks between mine, attempting to read between the lines again because while I tell my best friend nearly everything, admitting to her that I’d tried to be a grownup about my feelings while still feeling like an adolescent and it all blew up in my face and led to my summer of heartbreak is still difficult. “Poppy, I know you cared about Mike. I don’t doubt that for a single second. You guys shared a connection and relationship that was built on friendship and respect, but when you close your eyes and imagine kissing someone—kissing them now, and in a year, and in twenty years—is it Mike that you see?”
I shake my head.
Her smile is as gentle as her tone. “Our memories of a person can sometimes be better than the reality. You and Mike were a good couple. He was a great first boyfriend because he was kind and thoughtful, and he genuinely cared about you, but you never once considered going to Arkansas. Maybe I’m wrong, but I think your breakup hurt because you lost a close friend when Mike moved, but I don’t think Mike ever owned your heart.”
I want her to be right. I think she’s right. I really want her to be right. But still I ask, “How do I know for sure?”
“Because you stayed. Because you kept moving and you forgot about him until he returned. Because you and Paxton have hotter kisses than you and Mike did.”
“Mike always hated PDA.”
“Which is fine, but there’s something about not caring what others think and kissing someone that is freeing and intimate and sexy. There are times when Lincoln kisses me, and I forget everything. Nothing matters in those moments. The world could be ending and I wouldn’t notice. If you can say that kissing Mike felt like that, then you should, by all means, follow your heart, but if you don’t feel that flame of desire and excitement when you hear his name or think about him, then you know. Dating Pax has introduced you to lots of circles. Guys have always noticed you, and now you’re starting to notice them noticing you. I don’t want you to feel like Mike is your only option.”
I don’t respond right away, taking a moment to let her words and the meaning behind them sink in.
“Want to go to the food court? We can order from a few different places and eat family style,” I suggest, not wanting to ponder why those particular words are the ones that stick with me and what weight and merit they might carry.
Rae grins. “Let’s go.” We turn toward the food court, which is mostly barren due to the hour. “I have to say, I wasn’t a huge fan of your arrangement with Pax, but I was wrong. You guys are making this work, and I’m shocked how much he’s changed.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t done anything.”
“You’re definitely doing something.”
“Really, I’m not. He’s probably helped me with school more than I’ve helped him. This is all him and his motivation for the draft that is keeping him in line.”
“How much longer do you guys think you’ll continue the ruse?” she asks. “I mean, if you have what you want and he’s figured his stuff out…”
The question becomes a volcano, an eruption of thoughts and questions to which I don’t have answers. I’ve been skating around the same question. “I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I think it makes sense to continue a little longer.”
She nods, but I see the silent questions in her glance that I interrupt by pointing at a macaroni and cheese restaurant. “Smoked bacon mac n’ cheese,” I say, reading off the menu. “Hello, deliciousness.”
&
nbsp; “Oh, that does sound good. Want to do that and some Chinese food?”
“I never say no to Chinese food.”
She grins. “Do you know what you want?”
“Surprise me,” I tell her.
Her grin grows. “I’ll get the drinks, too.” She turns toward the restaurant, leaving me to my thoughts while I wait in the short line.
The conversation about Mike and Pax and timelines fade as we bring our trays to an empty table and share food family style. She fills me in on how things are going at the aquarium and news of a new baby orca being born to one of the two pods they research and follow. The news is significant for the small pod of orcas that, like many marine animals, face an array of struggles.
“Some days, I wonder if I want to study cetology.”
“Really?” Rae’s eyes flash to mine as she takes a bite of mac n’ cheese.
“You have this energy and passion that is contagious when you talk about it. I want that. Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m so behind. You know what you want to do for a career, and you and Lincoln are in this happy little bubble that is so adorable it’s borderline disgusting.”
She cackles. “You know that’s not true. My life’s still a mess. I haven’t talked to my dad in six months, and there’s this deep sense of unease in my chest about what will happen if Lincoln gets drafted, and what will happen if he doesn’t.” Lincoln has long been expected to work for his father, something he’s vehemently opposed. He’s got all his eggs in the NFL basket to ensure he doesn’t have to face that landmine. Her expression turns stoic. “I mean, regardless of how much we care about each other, I still have two years of school left, and I know that time and distance are going to have an impact.” Her eyes turn glassy.
