by Mariah Dietz
“You guys go. I need to talk to Kostas.”
Ian nods, ribbing Hoyt before they head toward the crowd.
“Hey,” I say, reaching Arlo.
He lowers his phone and looks at me. “What’s up, Captain?”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “You got my wrath, and it was undeserved.”
“I can take it,” he says. “But, next time, I might ignore your red jersey and sack your ass.”
I chuckle. “You’ll have to catch me first.”
He grins, his demeanor switching as he pockets his phone. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Are we good?” I ask, offering my hand.
He takes my hand. “We’re always good. You just have to remember that I’m on your side. We’ve got this.” His voice trails off as someone approaches us. I turn, expecting it to be Lincoln, but instead see Mike, Poppy’s ex.
“You got a minute?” he asks.
“Have I mentioned how nice it is that Liv’s ex lives in Texas?” Arlo asks, shaking his head. “If you need me, I’ll be over there, watching.” He tips his head to me. “Don’t punch him. We need you Saturday, and Coach Harris frowns on violence. Granted, we could always say he tripped on a piece of driftwood…” He turns his gaze back to Mike with a silent threat.
“We’re good,” I say.
Mike’s staring at Arlo, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw flexed. He’s not worried, which makes me more nervous than I care to admit.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, attempting to keep my cool and show him that I’m as unaffected as he is.
“I don’t know you, but I know you’re not the right guy for Poppy.”
“And you are?”
“Do you know one goddamn thing about her? Seriously, one thing? Do you know that she’s terrified of lightning? That she never wears yellow and hates Valentine’s Day?”
He’s wrong—at least, he is about Valentine’s Day—but I don’t tell him that because he’s trying to make this a dick measuring contest.
“Our families are friends. Our friends are friends. I know everything about her—hell, I experienced it with her. You’re going to graduate and be drafted and have a crowd of people vying for your attention and kissing your ass, and you know that’s not her scene. If you know anything about Poppy, you know she doesn’t like the spotlight. Imagine how she’s going to feel when she’s on the front page of a tabloid with a lie splattered across her face. And you’re going to be traveling around the country, playing every weekend, and she’s going to be here, still going to school for another two years.”
I still have six months, and if everything goes as planned, I’ll be staying here in Seattle, but once again, I don’t voice this to him. “Why is this any of your business? You have absolutely no reason to be over here trying to preach to me when your girlfriend is somewhere, waiting for your ass to find its way off of my back and back into your own damn lane. Mine and Poppy’s relationship is none of your concern.”
“Or maybe you need to start worrying, considering I was who gave her a ride when you weren’t here to help her out.”
Panic slips past my defenses, and I stare at him, looking for signs that he’s lying. “What happened?”
“Shouldn’t you already know since you’re her boyfriend and all?”
Frustration and aggression course through me simultaneously, exacerbated by my concern for Poppy. “She’s over you. You need to back off. She’s made her decision, and it’s not you.”
“Decision?” Candace asks, approaching us with a raised brow. “It’s all fake. What’s the decision?”
“There’s nothing fake about it,” I argue. “I told you that.”
“No, you told me you guys set up a fake relationship to benefit you both,” Candace says.
“That’s not what I said.”
Mike stands there like he’s listening to someone revealing a treasure map, listening to each damming word and preparing to steal the fortune.
“You had rules, Pax. Rules about how often you saw each other and communicated, and about not telling people—”
“That’s not what they were for,” I interrupt her.
“Then what was it? Just call a spade a spade. My post about Paulson pissed you off, and you were trying to get back at me.”
“It wasn’t about you,” I tell her. “God. For the first time in three years, this had nothing to do with you. Poppy and me and me and Poppy together have absolutely nothing to do with you,” I seethe, shaking my head and feeling the exhaustion of the past three years hit me in one giant reality check. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing that she and everyone else doesn’t already know.”
Anger tickles my senses, and deepens my voice. “What does that mean?”
“We do this, Paxton. We break up, and then we make up. I’ve been with you for three years. There’s no way you’re going to end things with me now, not when you’re this close to being drafted.” She holds up her thumb and forefinger, exposing a small gap.
I shake my head. “Are you hearing yourself?” I ask. “You make it sound like all you’re caring about is the money.”
She shakes her head. “Things will be so much easier once you’re drafted. You won’t have all of the pressure and stress.”
“How would that change things between us?” I ask. “Don’t you realize how toxic we were for each other? All we did was fight. I tried to be a good boyfriend and care about you in the ways you deserved, but you never seemed to care about the effort I was making, and that made me just stop trying, and that wasn’t fair to you. And it wasn’t fair to me, either. We both hurt each other. We both made mistakes.”
“So I got to date you while you were a no-one who cooked meals on dates and brought cheap ass flowers, and she gets you a second before you make millions? Do you really think she’s not there for the money?”
“Is that all you care about?” I know the answer as soon as I ask the question. What’s shocking, though, is that I hadn’t before right now.
“Of course, it’s not all I care about, but don’t you think I deserve it for being there through everything? You drank too much, made out with random girls, blew me off.”
It doesn’t make it better to argue we were broken up during those occasions because we were broken up nearly as often as we weren’t. “You’re right. I was a shitty boyfriend. I take responsibility for that, and I wish I could go back and do it over, be a better man in general. But in all honesty, if I could reverse time, I’d never have dated you. I’d have been with Poppy this whole damn time if I had just paid attention and stopped this crazy carousel ride we were on. We lied to each other and to ourselves by saying we were happy and made each other happy—because that never happened.”
“I gave you three years of my life,” she argues, eyes slit with anger.
Her words cause reverberations in my thoughts, ones that carry frustration, regret, and bitterness. “I didn’t want you to hate me, and I didn’t want to hate you, but this is over between us. It’s been over for months. We’re never going to get back together. This shit is done.”
I turn, realizing that dickface Mike is gone.
Shit.
I head down to the beach, searching for Lincoln, knowing that wherever he is, Rae will be. It only takes me a few minutes to find them because I can hear Arlo easily over the crowds and see Lincoln beside him.
“Were you just hanging out with Candace?” Rae asks. Her gaze is hard and accusing—a reflection of Poppy’s from this afternoon.
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“Tell me you’re not getting back together with her.”
I shake my head. “No. I’m looking for Poppy.”
“And you thought she was going to be with Candace?”
“She approached me,” I tell her again. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Rae shakes her head. “She’s upset about something, and I don’t know what is going on, but I’m guessing it has to do wit
h you since you don’t know where she’s at.”
Maintaining my sister’s stare is like gripping onto a hot coal—the longer I hold it, the worse I’m burned by her judgment. “I can’t be a conduit. If she doesn’t want to talk to you right now, I’m not going to betray her.”
“I’m not asking you to betray her. I’m asking you to tell me where she is because I need to talk to her.”
She releases a short sigh. “If you hurt her, I will make Rose post that picture of you in those shorts on the front page of the paper.”
“You have my word.” And clearly my pride.
“She went to her parents’ to watch her little brother. He’s got the flu, and they had to leave.”
“I owe you,” I tell her.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“I’m going to make this right.”
“You better,” she calls after me. “I’m texting you the address.”
Poppy
I’ve been flipping through a dozen different movies and shows, struggling to pay attention to anything.
Did I break up with Paxton?
No. Those decisions take words and confirmation.
Right?
I lean back, Mike’s words rolling through my head again like a bowling ball, reminders of how he had moved to Arkansas without hesitation after two years of dating and sharing declarations and secrets that had made our relationship seem nearly impenetrable. Paxton and I have officially been together for less than a week, and even if we were to stay together until June, he’d have to leave soon after graduation.
Sampson paws at me and then drops his head onto my lap, like he can hear the chaos happening in my head.
“What do I do, Sampson? Do I call him? Should I text him?”
I check the time, realizing it’s just past ten.
“Let’s go check on Dylan,” I say, going to grab the thermometer.
He’s still asleep, but his temperature is starting to rise. I check the time again, prepared to set an alarm for his next dose of medicine when a text from Mike catches my attention.
I ignore it. I don’t have the mental capacity to think about Mike or worry about his feelings or opinions. I set my alarm and hit the bottom step when there’s a quiet knock at the door.
I pause, debating who it might be when it’s this late.
There’s another quiet knock that prompts me to answer it. Mike is on the doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“It was fake?” Mike sounds shocked, bewildered, and far too smug.
“What?”
“You and Lawson, it was fake?”
I shake my head, my heart thrumming an uneven beat that makes me feel lightheaded and too warm. “What are you talking about?”
“Candace and Paxton just gave all of Brighton a show. This is what I was talking about, Poppy. Your entire life will be in the public eye if you date him.” His brow lowers. “Or pretend to be dating him. Why in the hell would you pretend to date that guy?”
My phone starts ringing in my pocket, but it barely registers as Mike’s stare bores into me, waiting for an answer that I can’t even answer to myself.
“I knew there was something off about the two of you. Was this all because of me?”
“It wasn’t fake.” I refuse to admit he played a role in the process, much less what it progressed into because, for me, he never had. “You need to go.”
“Poppy. Talk to me.” He says, pulling his hands from his pockets. “If I’d known you weren’t dating him, I would’ve…”
“What? Broken up with Maddie?”
His gaze shifts between my eyes. “We have something. You and me, we have something that is good and honest and real.”
“A past,” I tell him. “We have a past.”
Headlights blind me as someone pulls into the driveway, and the engine cuts. I know it’s neither of my parents because they’d pull forward and park in the garage.
My heart skips and gallops and falls like a baby foal trying to learn to walk as I see his silhouette. I know it’s Pax before the lights along the driveways expose his face.
“You should go,” I tell Mike, my voice quiet.
Pax climbs the porch steps two at a time, his eyes bright and calculating as they land on Mike.
“I’m not leaving,” Mike says.
Pax reaches the porch, his shoulders wide, gaze focused on Mike. He’s so still it’s almost eerie, reminding me of an apex predator that knows he’d come out on the other side of any fight victorious. I take a step, moving between Paxton and Mike. “What are you doing?” I ask.
Paxton looks at me, his eyes a stunning and frightening shade of blue that I recognize, a narrow balance between constraint and unbridled strength that flickers in his gaze when we’re in the bedroom. “What’s he doing here?” His voice is level, contradicting the tightness in his jaw and flexed hands.
“Oh, am I violating the rules?” Mike asks before I can reply, his tone flippant, goading Pax for a fight.
Paxton’s gaze flicks to him, his jaw strained. “Get the fuck out of here.”
“Like hell, I’m going to leave her here with you.”
“With me?” Pax moves in one fluid motion, so fast I don’t have time to contend it. “Why don’t you go back to the party where your girlfriend is and get the fuck away from mine.”
Mike leans closer, scoffing. “She’s not your girlfriend. She’s your plaything.”
Pax’s fist curls in Mike’s shirt, tugging him closer while he draws his other hand back.
“Hit me. Go ahead. Hit me. Show her exactly how big of an asshole you are. You want to come over here and plead your case after humiliating her?”
Pax releases Mike with a shove. “You’re a fucking rat. You came running the second you saw an opening.”
“She deserves so much better than you,” Mike spits the words.
Pax flexes again, and for a second, I’m so sure he’s going to hit Mike that I flinch.
“Enough,” I say. “I don’t want to see either one of you.”
Paxton’s gaze veers to me first, moving so that his hips face me, his aggression dropping by several degrees as Mike becomes a second thought. “Please, let me explain. You were right about Candace—"
“I know I was right,” I tell him. “I told you what happened, and you didn’t believe me.” I stare at him for a moment, feeling the same bitterness left behind from betrayal.
“I did believe you, I just—”
“Refused to admit it,” I say. “I want you both to leave.” I turn my attention to Mike. “You have a girlfriend who moved across the country to be with you. Stop trying to make her fit whatever mold you have in your head of the perfect girlfriend and thinking that I ever fit it because I didn’t. I know that because you were ready to break up before we graduated, and you never looked back.” I shake my head and turn my attention to Pax. “And you need to figure out your feelings for Candace because they’re clearly not over. I’m done being a consolation prize. I’m done competing and pretending. It’s over.” I take a step back and close the front door before either of them can object.
I lean against the smooth surface of the door, my heart in my throat and emotions streaming down my face.
32
Paxton
I get home feeling like I’ve just played the hardest game of football in my life and lost. My entire body aches and my head hurts, and everything seems impossible.
I head to the fridge, where I rifle through the contents, searching for something to drink. A six-pack is on the bottom shelf. I stare at the clear bottles, the yellow liquid that I know would be crisp and citrusy in my mouth and help dull these emotions that are capsizing me.
“Hey, man,” Caleb says, coming into the kitchen, his gaming controller in one hand.
I rub a hand over my hair, trying to recall if I’d walked right by him without even seeing him.
“Everything okay?”
> “Do I self-sabotage?” I ask him.
Caleb looks at the fridge, likely seeing the beer, then brings his gaze back to me. “What happened tonight?”
“I don’t even know. I don’t know where to start or how to understand where it all went so wrong. I mean, I was trying to be the good guy, and instead, I ended up being the fucking asshole.”
“To who?”
I meet his stare, my breaths labored as my heart pounds like I’ve been sprinting. “Poppy.” I thread my hands in my hair and drop my head back. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”
The front door opens, and Arlo, Lincoln, and Raegan walk into the living room. Arlo looks confused, Raegan looks pissed, and Lincoln looks like a smug asshole—like he knew I’d fuck this up.
“Why would you tell Candace?” Raegan asks.
“She wasn’t lying?” Arlo asks, swinging his gaze from Rae to me. “It was all fake?”
“No,” Rae and I answer at the same time.
Arlo’s eyebrows inch high on his forehead. “I’m confused.”
Rae shakes her head, dismissing him from the conversation. “Why did you tell Candace anything.”
I silently curse myself, and this situation, and Candace, and my sister for getting involved when the last thing I want to do is talk to her right now. I don’t want to see reason or truth or realize how badly I fucked up. But in that same vein, I know that Rae might be my best shot at managing to resolve this mess of a problem. “It wasn’t on purpose. Candace came over to pick up the last of her shit, and she saw the copy of our rules tacked up in my room.”
Rae covers her face with one hand. “Why’d you let her in your room?”
“It wasn’t because I wanted to have sex with her. Jesus, Rae. I’m just trying to be better than Dad and make sure that I don’t end things with Candace and make her hate me like Mom hates him. I was trying to do the right thing.”
Raegan’s shoulders fall, so does her mouth into an expression of pity that makes me more uncomfortable than the anger she was expelling moments ago. “You have to go and talk to her.”
“I tried.”
