The Dixon Rule (Campus Diaries, 2)

Lack of control

THIS MAKES TWO.

Two times.

Two whole times that I’ve kissed Shane Lindley.

It’s Saturday morning and I’m sprawled on a lounge chair, staring up at the clouds and obsessing over the fact that I kissed Shane last night. Again. And this time it wasn’t because he goaded me into it and I was trying to win a party game.

I wanted to.

I clench my teeth and glare at one cloud formation in particular—the one that looks like two swans kissing. Stupid cloud swans. Rubbing it in my face.

I blame my make-out with Shane on the foul whiskey. I was very, very drunk.

You were not very, very drunk.

Oh my God. It’s true. I was tipsy at best.

I hear the slap of flip-flops on concrete and look up to see Shane approach in a pair of red swim trunks and a white T-shirt. He sets a full coffee mug on the table beside me, then spreads an oversized striped towel over the chair next to mine.

There’s only one other person out here this morning. Veronika sits on the other side of the rectangular pool, reading a romance novel with a shirtless guy on the cover. As much as I like to make fun of her for banging all the pool boys, I do admire her no-fucks-given attitude. She’s in her midfifties and living her best single life after a drawn-out divorce. No husband, no kids. Living the dream over there.

Her head lifts the moment Shane arrives, appreciation filling her eyes. Great. I guess we’ll be having this awkward chat in front of an audience.

“Hey.” His voice has some gravel to it, and he looks tired.

“Hey.”

As Shane lies down and stretches his legs out, I can’t help but notice that his body just dominates that chair. It goes on forever. But I guess that’s what happens when you’re six-one with stupidly long legs and a broad, sculpted chest.

I twist my head toward him. “Where are your houseguests?”

“Gone, thank fuck. Lynsey’s Briar tour started at nine.”

“Are they coming back here later?”

“No.” Once again, his tone is awash with relief. “She’s going straight back to Connecticut after her interviews.”

I study his chiseled profile, unable to curtail the memory of how it felt to run my fingers along that defined jaw. How soft the little hairs at his nape were beneath my fingertips before I curled my hand around his neck to kiss him deeper.

I quickly wrench my gaze away. Oh my God. Despite my mouth’s traitorous behavior as of late, I’m not into him. He annoys me.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Shane starts scrolling on his phone. Completely ignoring me.

I huff out a breath. “Are we seriously not going to talk about it?”

He chuckles.

Across the deck, Veronika has sat up a little straighter and set her book down. She’s openly watching us now. I hope she can’t lip read.

“We made out, Dixon. No biggie.” He sounds unbothered.

“It’s never happening again,” I say firmly.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“That’s fine.”

“What do you mean, that’s fine?”

He puts down his phone and raises a brow. “Do you want it to happen again?”

“Of course not. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I only kissed you because I got caught up in my girlfriend role.”

“You don’t have to explain it. I’m on the same page.”

“So you were playing a part too?”

“No, I wanted to kiss you.”

That shuts me up.

Shane laughs. “Dixon. It was a kiss. You’re making a big deal out of it.”

“I’m not making any deal out of it.”

“Okay, good.”

“Great.”

“Excellent.”

“Brilliant.” He’s chuckling again. “Thank you, by the way.” He shifts his face back to the water. “I know you’re not my biggest fan, but you still came over and helped me out. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. And I have the perfect way for you to repay me.”

He glances over suspiciously.

“Okay, picture this,” I start with a beaming smile.

“No.”

“Picture this. You and me. Gliding across the ballroom floor together in an elegant Viennese waltz.”

“No.”

“I’m not done!”

“Nope. You lost me at waltz.”

Desperation rises inside me and brings a pout to my lips. “Please? Kenji bailed on me, and now I’m totally screwed. You showed some solid coordination last night. You have the raw talent, I’m sure of it. And you already told Lynsey you were entering the competition with me.”

“Yes, I said it in the moment.” He looks amused. “I wasn’t planning on following through.”

“What are you going to tell her, then?” I challenge.

“I don’t know. I’ll say it fell through. You found a new partner. Coach wouldn’t let me do it during the hockey season.” He shrugs. “There’s lots of reasons why I might need to back out.”

“Come on, Shane, please.”

He directs another snicker my way. “You don’t even like me, and you want us to be dance partners?”

I jut out my chin. “You don’t have to like your dance partner.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“How about a blowjob?”

“I’m listening.”

I grin at him. “Great. I’ll find a good escort service and see if they’ll give you one on the down low—”

“From you, Dixon,” he interrupts with a smirk. “It’s your mouth or no mouth.”

“Perv. I will never blow you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m satisfied I’ll never have to be your dance partner.”

I let out a loud moan. “Every time I start to like you, you turn around and decide to ruin my life.”

Shane curls over in laughter, which only heightens my irritation. Here I was, sincerely extending an olive branch to this man in the form of dance, and he’s throwing it back in my face. Mocking me.

The chiming of my phone interrupts us. I stifle a groan after I check the screen. It’s Percy. My ex has texted about ten times since I told him we couldn’t be friends, and he’s about one more text away from getting blocked.

PERCY:

I know you’re avoiding me. Can we please talk?

I ignore the message and grumble in irritation.

“Bad news?”

“No. Just my ex.”

“Still bugging you?”

“Yes. He still thinks he has a chance of winning me back.” I make an exasperated noise. “Seriously, what is wrong with you guys? Why can’t you just go away after you get dumped? Why can’t you get the message?”

“Ouch.”

“Aw, I didn’t mean you. I meant…” I suddenly remember what we were up to last night and why. “Oh, oops. I guess I do mean you. Sorry.”

“I’m not trying to win her back,” he insists.

“No? So you’re telling me you didn’t kiss me last night to make her jealous? To show her what she’s missing?”

Shane’s voice becomes gravelly again. “I can honestly say that in that moment, Lynsey was the last thing I was thinking about.”

Our gazes lock for a second. A ripple of heat travels between us.

Oh no. Nope. This tingling between my legs is not good.

“You do want her back, though,” I say, pushing the issue.

He doesn’t answer for a long time, which is all the answer I need.

“I just had this whole future in mind, you know? For the two of us.”

That catches me off-guard. “Future? I didn’t realize fuckboys thought that far ahead.”

“I’m not a fuckboy.”

I lift a brow.

“I know it seems like it. I’m sure Gigi told you I went a little sex-crazed this year.”

“You single-handedly tried to bang the entire cheer team.”

“That’s an exaggeration. But yeah, I did hook up a lot.” He sighs. “But it’s not what I want. I think I had to get all that out of my system to accept I’m a relationship guy.”

I’m not sure I believe him, but I can’t deny he seems sincere.

I have to get ready for work, so I leave Shane at the pool and head upstairs, where I stuff my work clothes in my backpack because I wouldn’t be caught dead walking to work in my uniform. Della’s Diner is literally the most outdated place in the world. It’s very retro. The uniforms are super tacky, but the customers seem to love the blue-polyester getup with its white collar and matching apron. The managers do let us wear white sneakers instead of roller skates or some awful shit. And although I’m sure they’d love for us to style our hair in beehives, ponytails are tolerated.

My shift flies by. Saturday nights always do. It’s so busy I can never check the time, so I’m always pleasantly surprised when the diner suddenly clears out without warning, and I realize it’s thirty minutes till closing. It’s my favorite time of the night.

I’m behind the pie counter cleaning up when the bell over the door rings, and a customer enters the fluorescent-lit room.

Percy.

My jaw tightens. I was stacking cups, and now I slam one down a little too hard. I don’t mean to put so much force behind it, but thankfully the glass doesn’t shatter.

“Are you okay?” asks Dev, the other remaining server. Everyone else has left for the night.

“I’m fine.” I nod curtly toward our new arrival. “I’ll take this one. I know him.”

I march over as Percy is sliding into a booth.

“What are you doing here?” I ask angrily.

He holds up both hands in surrender. “Grabbing a cup of coffee.”

“Percy.”

“And hoping we can have a quick chat.”

“I’ve said all I need to say.”

“Well, I haven’t said what I needed to say.” His voice rises, drawing Dev’s attention.

My colleague tips his chin in a silent question, and I respond with the slight shake of my head. I can handle it.

I give Percy a warning look. “This is where I work. Please.”

“Fine. I’ll leave—if you agree to talk to me after your shift.” Fortitude hardens his eyes. “I’ll meet you outside?”

I release an internal scream. Oh my God. I’ve had guys become obsessed with me in the past but never to this extent. I don’t know what to do about it. Is this stalking? I don’t think it qualifies as that yet, but this is the second time he’s shown up unannounced.

It’s making me uncomfortable, and I don’t like this feeling. The uneasiness, the lack of control. I’m usually an expert at handling tough situations. I always have been. My dad says it’s his favorite thing about me. Aside from fixing a shower, if there’s a situation that needs fixing, you go to Diana Dixon. If you need someone to defend you, to tell someone else off, to throw down, you go to Diana Dixon.

I thought I drew a hard line with Percy last weekend, but evidently, I wasn’t harsh enough. And that’s the only reason I agree to meet him after my shift. It’s time to lay down the law.

Percy waits on the sidewalk when I exit the diner thirty minutes later. His cheeks hold a slight flush, and when he greets me, I catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath.

“Have you been drinking?” I ask warily.

“I grabbed a beer at Malone’s while I was waiting for you. But don’t worry, I’m fine to drive. I’ll give you a lift home. We can talk in the car.”

“No. I want to walk.”

A frown creases his brow. “I’m not drunk.”

“I didn’t think you were. I’d just rather walk.” The last thing I want right now is to be trapped in a car with Percy.

“Okay, then. Let’s walk.”

My chest is so tight, I can feel my ribs trying to poke through the skin.

Ten more minutes of my life, I assure myself, as we head off down the sidewalk. I can suck it up for ten more minutes.

“I have something important to say,” he starts, his tone ringing earnestly. “I take full responsibility for the breakdown of our relationship, Diana. I’ve had months to reflect on my actions, but it wasn’t until our last fight, when you pointed out my insecurities, that I was finally able to examine the entire situation from your point of view. And it finally sunk in. How much I would hate it if you were accusing me of hooking up with other women—”

“Percy,” I cut in. He’s wasting his breath here.

“And you’re right, the accusations were uncalled for. That’s something I’m going to have to work on. And I have been working on it—”

“Percy,” I interrupt again.

“All I’m asking you for is a chance. Let me prove to you that I’m still the witty, nerdy grad student you met at the Coffee Hut who couldn’t tell the difference between a push and pull door.”

I manage a weak laugh. “I know you’re that guy.”

“Then give me a chance to prove it.”

We’re not far from Meadow Hill now, and I count the steps longingly. Percy believes he stands a chance of convincing me, but I have no interest in getting back together with him. I want this entire ordeal to be over. I’ve never had such a needy, insecure boyfriend. And truthfully, I’ve gotten the ick.

“I’ll be honest, Diana. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever been with, and that intimidates me. It’s difficult when your girlfriend looks like you, you know?”

Two more minutes.

I try to quicken my stride, but I’m short and can’t move that fast.

“So try to see it from my point of view? It’s hard knowing that you get attention and that other men are leering at you. Because, come on, we know what they’re thinking. They’re all picturing you naked.”

“Who cares what they’re thinking?” I say in aggravation. “Just because they might be picturing me naked doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with them. You must have a really low opinion of me if you think I can’t walk ten feet without spreading my legs open for someone. Like, this is ridiculous. It’s insulting.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” He adjusts his pace to match my fast strides, groaning with frustration. There’s a note of anger there too, which I don’t like.

“Percy, I understand what you’re saying.” Actually, I don’t at all, but whatever. Let’s humor him. “But I’m not interested in getting back together.”

“Even if I’m working on my issues?”

“Even then.”

“So, what, we spend six months together and you just throw me away? Couples work through stuff together. They help each other with their issues.”

“It’s not my responsibility to help you with your insecurities!”

Now I’m angry. And once my temper has been triggered, there’s no going back. It’s probably my worst trait, but there’s nothing I can do about it at this moment. He’s literally exhausted the last iota of my patience.

“I’m going to be brutally honest with you right now. I don’t want to be with you. I don’t want to help you work through your issues.” We’re about fifteen yards from the main gate of Meadow Hill, but I’m too wound up to walk. I halt in the middle of the sidewalk and slap my hands on my hips. “We’re not together anymore. We will never be together again.”

“Is there someone else?” he demands.

Oh my God!

I want to scream. But it’s obvious this man has zero respect for my boundaries and even more obvious he’s never going to comprehend that I simply don’t want to be with him. To Percy, if I don’t want him, that must mean there’s another guy involved.

And since that’s clearly the only way his brain will register what I’m saying, I shout, “Yes!”

He rears back as if I’ve struck him. “What?”

“Yes, there is someone else. I’m seeing someone new.”

He hisses out a breath. “Is it the hockey player?”

“Yep. Right again. We’re done, okay? So please, just move on. The way I’ve moved on.”

I start to walk, but he grabs my arm and tugs me backwards. I don’t know if he means to be so rough, but it feels like my arm is jolted out of its socket.

“Let go of me.”

“You fucking bitch,” he snaps, and the mask completely shatters, revealing angry red eyes, flushed cheeks, and lips twisted in a snarl. His fingers curl around my forearm like a steel band. “You made me grovel and beg and this entire time you were doing exactly what I knew you were doing!”

“Let go of me,” I repeat.

When I try to shrug his hand off, his grip tightens.

“Let go of me.” My free hand fumbles out to try to push him away.

“Fucking bitch.”

The next thing I know, his fist snaps forward.

And then he hits me.