Exploring the Rules: The Dating Playbook, Book: 4

by Dietz, Mariah

  Exploring the Rules

  The Dating Playbook, Book: 4

  Mariah Dietz

  Contents

  1. Chloe

  2. Tyler

  3. Chloe

  4. Tyler

  5. Tyler

  6. Chloe

  7. Tyler

  8. Chloe

  9. Tyler

  10. Chloe

  11. Tyler

  12. Chloe

  13. Tyler

  14. Chloe

  15. Chloe

  16. Tyler

  17. Chloe

  18. Tyler

  19. Tyler

  20. Chloe

  21. Tyler

  22. Chloe

  23. Tyler

  24. Chloe

  25. Tyler

  26. Chloe

  27. Tyler

  28. Chloe

  29. Tyler

  30. Chloe

  31. Chloe

  32. Chloe

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Stay Connected

  Also by Mariah Dietz

  A Glimpse of Bending the Rules

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Mariah Dietz

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Learn More About Mariah

  Website: www.mariahdietz.com

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  1

  Chloe

  Sunscreen

  Phone charger

  Portable charger

  Headphones

  I check the last few items off of my list and nervously bite the end of my pen. I know I’m forgetting something—can feel it nagging in the back of my mind.

  “You have everything,” Vanessa assures me.

  “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” I admit.

  She shakes her head. “You’ve been making that list for a month. Trust me. You have everything.” She turns her attention to her phone, likely checking in with Cooper for the hundredth time this morning. She’s jittery with excitement and nerves, and it’s starting to become contagious.

  My conviction to be calmer and less ‘high strung’ as my ex, Ricky Benson, so eloquently put it before we broke up last month, has me shoving my list into my purse to keep from checking it a fourth time. Those weren’t my only traits that annoyed Ricky. He hated my list-making and planning, as well as my habit of focusing on laws and rules and regulations—both defined and unwritten, like telling your best friend she has something stuck in her teeth or not stopping in the middle of a busy sidewalk. Rules are important in this world where so many things are blurred, and few things give me as much comfort. Maybe it’s because I’m the oldest—albeit only by seven minutes—or because I’m majoring in astrophysics to be an astronomer, where every law of physics is fundamental—but rules bring me purpose, structure, focus, and a sense of security.

  I look down at our bags and panic begins to swell in my chest like a balloon being blown up as I consider how many rules will be stretched and broken this summer as we travel across the country with my best friend and Vanessa’s latest crush, Cooper Sutton.

  “This has to be the worst idea ever.” I grip my purse even tighter, trying to ignore the fact my palms are sweating from nerves.

  “Chloe.” My sister makes my name four syllables. “We’ve definitely had worse ideas than making a cross country trip with our best friend. Plus, the meteor shower. California. There’s no way we’d have been able to go without Cooper driving us,” Vanessa reminds me again as she toes one of the suitcases, lining it up with the others.

  “I know, I know,” I try not to grumble my admission because as much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, she’s right.

  At the beginning of summer, we ended our sophomore year at Brighton University in Seattle, Washington by putting most of our things into storage and flew home to Jacksonville, Florida. We’ve spent the past two months lying by the pool, picking up shifts at The Grille that our Uncle Pete owns and where he’s offered us employment since we were sixteen, and finding every excuse to take naps and visit the beach.

  It feels like summer just began, and already it’s ending.

  That sour note, combined with the fact we’re going to be in a car for long periods with Cooper, who I know Nessie will be flirting with, has tainted the appeal of this trip—even seeing the Perseids meteor shower. We’re watching it from the Aether Observatory in San Francisco, where I was personally invited by their astrology team to come and celebrate and witness the annual event that has become something I look forward to each year like a holiday. The shower leaves trails of bright lights in the sky like fireworks—beautiful and mesmerizing.

  My short nails bite into my palms as my thoughts veer back to Nessie and Cooper. Cooper is my best friend aside from Vanessa. Sometimes it feels like Nessie and I are two halves to a whole, but Cooper is like my carbon copy, making him equally easy—sometimes easier—for me to understand. He’s also a nice guy, which is a big change from the guys Nessie generally goes for and the only reason I’m trying to find hope that her feelings are genuine. Well, that and because although he hasn’t outright told me, I know Cooper has been in love with Nessie for the past decade … maybe longer.

  Coop and I became instant friends when we were in the third grade. Back then he preferred chess to football and chips to cookies, and unlike most of the guys in our class who were starting to become cruder and grosser as they neared puberty, Cooper was grounded and kind and quiet, and we found solace together in the library and the treehouse Dad built with us over spring break.

  Jealousy plays a small factor in my hesitation for them starting a relationship. I’m terrified to consider what might happen when they break up; a harsh thought, but considering Nessie’s longest relationship has been three months, it seems nearly inevitable.

  Mom and Dad head toward us, ending my thoughts and making my breath catch in my throat. Mom’s face is red, tears building on her lower lashes. I hug her first. She rubs soothing circles on my back as I make a vow to myself not to cry yet again.

  “You guys are going to have the best time,” she says. Her long hair, which is mostly gray, is curled in relaxed waves that tickle my face, but I don’t attempt to pull away or brush them aside. She smells of lavender and honey from the homemade soap we make in large batches each year. I attempt to memorize it all, knowing how much I’ll miss them this fall.

  Guilt and regret are like tectonic plates in my chest, hitting and creating a mountain of doubt. I don’t know why I agreed to leave with Nessie nearly three weeks early to travel back to Seattle. I could spend these last weeks with our parents, soaking up more of the Florida sun, taking another trip to Disney World, and enjoying time with my family and friends, but instead, I chose a meteor shower.

  Mom pulls back, the gold chain she wears around her neck catching the light of the sun before she hugs Vanessa. Dad engulfs me in a bear hug. I appreciate these moments with him. I’ve watched some dads get weird around their daughters—hugs become side-hugs, and they act like hearing the word tampon or period will scar thei
r manhood. Our dad has immersed himself into the world of being a girl dad and embraces the fact, loving us to the point he learned how to French braid, the names of each Disney Princess, and the value of good chocolate when one of us was having a bad day.

  “You guys will remember to text us periodically? And stick together. No drinking or texting while driving. And no picking up any hitchhikers,” Dad says as he pulls back, his eyes red and heavy from lack of sleep. He hasn’t been subtle about his concerns for our trip, which is likely why I’ve kept my concerns mostly to myself until this afternoon. It’s not that his concerns aren’t valid—some of them even match my own—it’s just that hearing his concerns about something that started as my idea makes me wish even more that I could be easygoing.

  Stubborn and strong-willed are my middle names, hyphenated only by my love for adventure. However, this trip was supposed to be a girls’ trip. We were supposed to drive across the country with our good friend Meredith, sightseeing along the way and soaking up the feeling of independence and freedom before going back for our junior year and apartment hunting, job hunting, and full-time classes.

  Then everything changed.

  Meredith broke her femur and is now flying back to Seattle in four weeks. Vanessa got tired of discussing the pros and cons of different apartments in and around Seattle, and unbeknownst to me, chose the smallest on our shortlist that had only been on it because of her insistence. It’s the most expensive, tiny, and has no patio. Then, to turn things into full upheaval, she made plans with Cooper to take this trip that has us leaving two weeks earlier than originally planned because he has to be back in time for football season.

  I’m grateful, it just feels like the one time Mom made mashed potatoes and burnt the bottom layer—the top looked okay, but it still tasted burnt.

  I take a deep breath of the humid air and remind myself why this will be okay. Arriving earlier than planned will allow us more time to job hunt and get settled, and though I’m concerned about what might happen between Nessie and Cooper, there are far worse ways to spend the last few weeks of summer than on a road trip across the country.

  Nessie pats my shoulder like she can hear my silent resolve. “This is going to be amazing. Epic.”

  “Is that them?” Mom asks as a large black SUV slows and turns into the driveway.

  I shake my head. “N—” I start, knowing Cooper was planning to drive his grandma’s old Honda.

  “Yes,” Nessie says, cutting me off, her lips pulled wide at the corners as she winces.

  Panic sets in.

  Mom and Dad move down the driveway to welcome Cooper as Nessie leans closer. “This was the only way. It’s going to be a short trip, we’re going to see several cities, and it’s going to be amazing.” Her words come out rushed.

  And then Tyler Banks appears from the driver’s side, and every reason for not wanting to go multiplies tenfold.

  “What is he doing here?” I hiss, my attention cutting to my sister as accusation drips from my words.

  The biggest, cheesiest, and fakest smile she can muster slowly appears on Nessie’s face. “He’s going with us?” It sounds like a question. One I’m hoping to debate.

  I grip Nessie’s arm as she starts to turn away. “What are you talking about?”

  “He has a work thing, and this worked out perfectly. His car is bigger, and we’ll save a ton on hotels.”

  “No.” I shake my head, still believing I have some say in the matter.

  Nessie drops her chin. “Come on. It won’t be that bad. Tomorrow, we’ll be in New Orleans, dancing to jazz music and eating all the amazing food. Focus on the positives.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “I couldn’t. I knew if I did, you’d say no.”

  I glance toward the car to ensure they’re out of earshot. “Because I hate him,” I hiss.

  Nessie frowns. “Don’t even start. You barely know Tyler. You spend all your time avoiding him.”

  I try not to glower. “I know enough about him to know he’s an asshole—hence why I avoid him.”

  Vanessa stamps her fists onto her hips that, despite our similar genes, are narrower than mine. Likely because she’s a cheerleader at Brighton University and works out like it’s her job. Meanwhile, I spent the summer indulging in Mom’s homemade food and the cookies Dad hides in the bread box, knowing Mom won’t find them there because she doesn’t like bread, which is almost as strange as it is appalling. “He’s not that bad.”

  “He’s so cocky. And last year when you made me go to that Halloween party, I saw him make out with three different girls. Three. At one party.”

  Nessie shrugs. “I’ve heard worse.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better.”

  Before she can reply, Dad’s beside us again. “Do you know how much that car’s worth?” His voice is lowered into a whisper.

  Cooper turns from where he’s talking with our mom and smiles in our direction. Though much about Coop has changed in the past four years, his smile has not. It still exposes one dimple, and his cheeks are still slightly rounded, too soft for being twenty-one. His eyes are a dark brown that matches his finger-length hair, which is swept away from his face in a tidy mess. Once, Cooper was gangly and short, but now, he still has a few inches on me even when I wear heels. And while he’s still on the thinner side, defined muscles cord their way over his body—which we saw firsthand all summer in our pool.

  “Hey,” Cooper says, waving.

  “Hey, Cooper.” Dad moves closer, greeting him with a handshake and starts confirming our travel plans, but I don’t hear the conversation because Tyler Banks steps forward. His disheveled dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and rounded lips that hide his emotions nearly as well as his silence. It’s like he read a manual on how to be broody and decided to master the skill set.

  “Mom, this is Tyler Banks,” Vanessa says, extending a manicured hand toward Tyler, who surprises me by flexing a small smile and shaking her hand.

  “Pleasure to meet you.” His British accent—which is notorious at Brighton and likely all of Miami where he’s from—makes our mom practically swoon. I’m pretty sure Dad’s even developing a man-crush as he stares at Tyler’s car and biceps and starts recounting Brighton’s undefeated football season last year and his own glory days from Brighton.

  “That’s a nice car you drive,” Dad says when Tyler moves to help with our bags.

  Tyler glimpses over his shoulder, his gaze stopping at me for only a second before meeting the target of his Tesla. I’d argue that it’s elaborate and screams ostentatious, but Vanessa is starting to tell Cooper which bags she’s going to need access to and which can be buried, and Mom’s asking me about our hotel room confirmation for tonight.

  “I didn’t make them, remember?” I ask, awkwardness edging its way into my voice and making my discomfort grow rapidly. I should have been concerned when Nessie assured me she and Cooper had it all taken care of—should have been more suspicious when I asked for details, and she gave me blanket answers about Cooper having gotten great deals through a friend. I hadn’t considered that friend was Tyler Banks, heir to one of the largest hotel chains in America. A British playboy who grew up bouncing between continents and leaving a trail of tabloid stories and broken hearts in his wake.

  Nessie’s right, I don’t know Tyler Banks, but I also have no desire to know him. Guys like him promise nothing but bad judgment and questionable motives that all lead to disarray and chaos.

  “That’s right. You made the reservation?” Mom turns her attention to Tyler.

  I spin to Nessie again, accusation most likely written across my face. How did Mom know? I silently ask her, realizing this was in the cards all along.

  “I can send you the information if you’d like. We’ll be at the Banks Resort in the Garden District of New Orleans.”

  Mom sighs, lifting a hand to her chest. “The Garden District. You guys are going to have the best time.”


  Dad cringes. “You guys stick together. Don’t drink anything that someone hands you on the street, and if someone offers you beads—”

  “Dad!” Vanessa cuts him off with an alarmed look.

  “They know about the beads, honey,” Mom says, patting his arm. “They’re smart, and everything’s going to be fine.”

  Nessie steals a look at me. Can you believe him? How embarrassing!

  I shrug. At least he hasn’t asked for copies of Tyler’s driver’s license or taken any pictures of his license plate like he did our prom dates.

  Nessie’s gaze darts to our bags. “We should probably get going so we don’t get stuck in traffic.”

  Tyler reaches for a bag, and I cringe when I realize it’s mine, knowing it weighs a ton. Dad asked me to help him carry the same bag down the stairs, afraid it would throw out his back. But Tyler lifts it easily, his biceps and forearms flexing to accommodate the weight.

  “Do you guys want a cooler for the ride? I’ve got some extra ice packs. We could throw in some water and snacks in case you guys get hungry.” Dad eyes the garage, likely already picking which of the dozen coolers we own that he’s going to send with us.

  “I think we’ll be okay,” I tell him.

  “You guys don’t have to stop at gas stations with an electric car,” Dad objects. “I’ve heard these things can go upward of six hours.”