The Dixon Rule (Campus Diaries, 2)

Top ten reasons why you should date me

PRECISELY SIXTY MINUTES LATER, I FLOUNCE INTO SHANE’S APARTMENT and heave the most dramatic of sighs.

“I am so pissed off right now, babe! Like, it’s one thing if she got food poisoning or something, but to blow me off for a guy? We had this planned for weeks. I haven’t been to Boston in ages. I was looking forward to it and I wanted to dance and—” I pretend to suddenly notice the couple sitting on Shane’s sectional couch. “Oh. Sorry.” I glance back at Shane. “This was tonight?”

I am a phenomenal actress.

“Yup.” He’s fighting a smile. “I told you that when we spoke on the phone earlier.”

“Right, sorry. I was only half listening. Too busy making myself look like this.”

I fling my hands up and down to gesture at my skin-tight black dress. It’s completely backless and sexy as hell. So is the rest of me, if I do say so myself. My hair is up in a top knot. Lips are bloodred. Dangly earrings hang from my earlobes, and crisscross strappy shoes accentuate my tanned legs, the heels not too high that I can’t dance in them. Although really, I could probably dance in anything.

I scope out Shane’s ex-girlfriend, not surprised to find that she’s absolutely gorgeous. She has glossy, dark hair that’s stick straight but has some volume. Her features are flawless, and so is her skin. She’s got pouty lips and brown eyes that flicker with curiosity when they meet mine. And maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear I glimpse a glimmer of annoyance too.

“Hi,” I say brightly, smiling at the couple. “I’m Diana. Sorry to barge in.”

She smiles back. Whatever I saw in her eyes is gone, replaced by a friendly expression. “I’m Lynsey. This is Tyreek.”

“Nice to meet you guys.” I turn to Shane. “Please tell me you have some alcohol here because I really need a drink.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“You know what I like,” I say coyly, then sit on the chaise part of the sectional. As I bend over to start undoing my shoes, I glance at the other couple. “Zero loyalty,” I tell them.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“What?” Tyreek asks, looking amused. He’s an attractive guy with a shaved head and a nice smile but definitely not as hot as Shane.

“My best friend,” I clarify. “She has no loyalty. Ditched me tonight for a man.” I sigh. “She’s in the honeymoon phase. Literally, because they just got married.”

“Oh, right.” Lynsey surprises me by nodding. “Luke.”

I falter for a second before realizing that of course she must know Shane’s friends. I need to be careful about what I say regarding Ryder.

“Yeah, my best friend Gigi married him,” I reply. “Which, you know, romantic and all. But now they’re joined at the hip, and this is the second time she’s canceled girls’ night in three weeks.”

“What club were you going to?” Tyreek asks.

“Mist. Ladies get in free on Friday nights.”

Yes, I did my research before I walked over here. I’m not an amateur.

Shane returns, smirking slightly. I realize why when I notice what he’s holding. I have to bite my tongue not to growl at him.

“Whiskey. Neat. Just how you like it.” He arches a brow.

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? He knows I can’t stand the taste of whiskey. Asshole. The only reason I gave him beverage carte blanche was because I figured he’d do something cute to make Lynsey jealous. Like bring me a wine cooler with a little umbrella sticking out of the can.

His evil look makes me resist a glare. “Thank you, Boyfriend.”

I accept the very full lowball glass. With a big smile, I take a teeny sip and try not to gag.

Room temperature whiskey is vile.

“That’s your drink of choice?” Tyreek sounds impressed. “Never met a woman who drank straight whiskey.”

“Oh, sure. It’s my thing. I love it.” My stomach is on fire. This is what I get for doing Shane Lindley a favor.

“Here, let me help you with this, baby.”

Next thing I know, Shane is on his knees undoing the straps of my other heel.

Despite myself, a shiver travels up my leg and tingles between my thighs.

“Thanks,” I say, my throat a bit husky.

His hand lingers on my ankle. He gives it a light stroke before getting up to join me on the couch. He sits with his legs splayed and pulls me close to him, throwing a muscular arm around me. He smells good. Like soap and sandalwood, and a hint of spicy aftershave.

“I know you’re upset about the club, but I’m not exactly complaining that it didn’t pan out.” He brings his lips close to my ear. “You look so fucking good.” He whispers those words but loud enough that I know Lynsey and Tyreek can hear him.

“Aw, thanks, babe.” I turn my head slightly and our lips are suddenly millimeters apart.

My heart flips as, for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. But he merely smiles and winks. His hand absently moves down my bare arm in a lazy caress.

I swallow. “So, what were you guys doing before I showed up?”

“Nothing really. Just chatting, catching up,” Shane answers.

“You two attended high school together, right?” I say, glancing from Shane to Lynsey. “What about you?” I ask Tyreek. “Are you also from Vermont?”

Tyreek shakes his head. “I’m from Boston. I go to BU.”

“Nice. What’s your major?”

“Kinesiology.”

“Really? Me too,” I exclaim.

“No shit. Are you an athlete?” Tyreek asks.

“Cheerleader.”

Lynsey joins the conversation with a polite smile. “Oh, that’s cool. I’m at a performing arts college. We don’t have any NCAA teams, so I’m not too knowledgeable about that stuff, but is cheerleading recognized as a sport now?”

“No, it’s not.” I don’t know if she meant to be bitchy, but it comes off that way. Still, I return her smile. “It should be, though. We work our butts off.”

But she’s not the first person to imply, whether intentionally or not, that cheerleading isn’t an official “sport.” The NCAA still doesn’t recognize it, which is total bullshit, because can anyone really say with a straight face that cheerleaders aren’t athletes? We train hard. We’re flexible as fuck. Hell, I can knock out tumbling routines that a hockey player like Shane wouldn’t even begin to know how to execute. Which isn’t to say cheerleading is more demanding than hockey. Only that we’re athletes and deserve the recognition.

The Briar cheer program is very competitive. The moment the school year starts, we’re off and running. Killing ourselves and pushing our bodies to the limits to prepare for regionals in November. Then, if we’re lucky enough to move on, it’s off to nationals in the spring.

Surprisingly, Lynsey’s boyfriend has my back. “Yo, for real. Our squad is nuts.”

“Do you play BU football?” I ask him.

“Basketball. And, bro, the routines those women bust out during halftime? It’s incredible.”

“Trust me, I know. BU has a solid squad. They almost edged us out at regionals last year.” I glance at Lynsey. “How about you? Shane says you’re a ballet dancer?”

She nods. “I train at the Liberty Conservatory in Connecticut.”

“Oh, that’s amazing. They have an excellent program.” I reach for my glass again until I remember what’s in it. So it remains on the coffee table and I discreetly pull back my hand. “I actually studied ballet until I was fourteen.”

“Really?” She seems interested now. “Why did you stop?”

“It was too—” I halt, because I nearly said pretentious. “Rigid,” I finish. “I like to think I have discipline, but ballet required more than I was willing to give. Same for gymnastics. When I was a kid, I dreamed of going to the Olympics. Until I realized that you literally don’t get to have a life. You have to live and breathe gymnastics. To be honest, I prefer teaching to doing. I’m coaching at a youth cheer camp this summer and it’s so rewarding.”

Lynsey wrinkles her nose. “I could never teach. I don’t have that kind of patience, especially with children. I get annoyed when I see them doing something wrong.”

Her remark doesn’t surprise me. I’m rapidly forming an opinion about Shane’s ex, and it’s not entirely positive.

“I don’t mind it,” I say. “Sure, children make lots of mistakes—because they’re kids. They’re so eager to learn, though. There’s nothing I love more than seeing them master a skill.”

She shrugs. “I get more satisfaction mastering my own skills.”

I’m very aware of Shane’s fingers still stroking my arm. When I finish speaking, he leans in and nuzzles my neck before giving my cheek a quick peck. He’s being so affectionate. It’s disconcerting. I also can’t handle how good he smells.

“I bet you miss having this guy around to dance with,” I tease, grinning at Lynsey while patting Shane’s thigh. “I can’t keep him off the dance floor.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. That’s how we met, actually. He cleared out the whole floor and tried to woo me with dance. Performed a solo and everything. Babe, tell her about it.”

Shane twists his head slightly to peer down at me. He looks like he wants to murder me, but when he turns his face back to them, he’s grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, I basically made a complete ass of myself.”

“No, you were so cute.” I lean forward to pick up my whiskey, this time forcing myself to take a confident sip.

Mind over matter. Just pretend it’s not burning my throat and churning like lava in my stomach. I’ve drunk about a quarter of the glass now, and I’m already feeling a buzz.

I hold it out to Shane. “Want some?”

“Nah, I’ll stick to my beer.”

Asshole.

“I want to hear the rest of this story,” Lynsey says.

Tyreek chuckles. “Bro, me too. Did you legit bust out some crazy dance routine to win over a girl?”

“He sure did,” I answer for Shane. “We were at this Latin club in Boston. I can’t remember what it was called, but it was right after the Frozen Four win, and we all went there to celebrate. By that point, Shane had been trying to get with me for months.”

“It wasn’t that long. I only asked you out once.”

“Sure, once a week since September. He was smitten,” I say, grinning at Lynsey and Tyreek. “I kept turning him down, and he was getting more and more desperate.”

“Not desperate. Determined,” Shane cuts in. He’s mock-glaring at me, but only I know there’s nothing mock about it.

“He would send me these text messages—they were so cheesy. It was, like, top ten reasons why you should date me.”

Tyreek snorts mid-sip of his beer. “What were the reasons?”

“I can’t remember all of them.” I pretend to search my memory. “Some were so ridiculous. Like…I can last twenty whole minutes in bed.”

That gets Tyreek doubling over in laughter. Lynsey barely cracks a smile.

I notice she’s not super funny. Not that it’s a bad thing. Not everyone has a stellar sense of humor like yours truly. But serious people make me uncomfortable sometimes. It reminds me too much of my mother, who doesn’t know the meaning of the word joke.

“There were romantic reasons too,” Shane objects before I can drop another ego-crushing tidbit. “I said I was kind and compassionate, remember?”

“True. You did. I’ll give you that one.”

“I said I knew how to treat a woman right, that I was very chivalrous.”

“Also true.” I shrug. “But the number one reason was what a great dancer he was, and I called his bluff that night. Told him to wow me. So Shane here goes up to the DJ and asks him to play this ridiculous track, a really awful Vizza Billity rap-pop remix. And he gets in the middle of the dance floor and starts doing his, like, ‘moves.’” I use air quotes. Tyreek and Lynsey are both laughing now. “It was really cute.”

“Everyone was cheering along,” Shane adds, creating an entire hype squad for the story.

“And then he shimmied over to me, held out his hand, and said, May I have this dance?”

Tyreek chuckles again. “I don’t know if that’s cringe or smooth.”

“Definitely smooth.” Shane picks up my hand and laces our fingers together. But when the other couple isn’t looking, he digs his thumb into the center of my palm. It’s a warning. “And look what I got out of it. I guess making an ass out of yourself in front of all of Boston is worth it.”

Okay, that was kind of romantic. I notice Lynsey’s expression shift from amused to…I’m not quite sure. She’s very proficient at masking her emotions.

“So, what, you just dance now?” she says to Shane. I think it’s supposed to be a joke, but I hear the edge to her voice.

“Guess so,” he answers with a shrug. Then he shocks the hell out of me by adding, “Diana and I are doing that dance competition. NUABC.”

Her eyes flash. “You’re not serious.”

I recover quickly from my own surprise. “Yup, I managed to wear him down,” I confirm, snuggling closer to Shane. “Why? Are you competing too?”

“I’ve competed every year since I was sixteen.” Her jaw is tight. “Since when are you interested in ballroom dancing, Lindy?”

Oh yes, she’s pissed that Shane’s partnering up with me. I bet he never wanted to do it with her. Not that he’s actually my partner. This is a charade, and one that’s clearly working.

“Diana twisted my arm.” He offers a rueful grin. “I have a hard time saying no to her.”

“Damn right you do.” I press a kiss to his clean-shaven cheek.

The phone I set on the coffee table suddenly dings with an alert, and I disentangle from Shane to peek at it.

“All good?” he asks.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a notification that Fling or Forever voting has closed.”

“Shit, was this the Sugar Shack release? Did you vote?”

“Obviously.”

“Who did you pick to return to the hacienda?”

“Todd and Ky.”

“Todd!” Shane growls. “The habitual cheater?”

“He’s entertaining!”

On the other end of the couch, Tyreek stares at us in amusement. “Fling or what? Is this a reality show? Oh wait.” He pokes Lynsey in the side of her thigh. “Babe, that’s the one you watch, right?”

She nods absently at him, but she’s laser-focused in my direction. “You’ve got him dancing and following reality TV? I’m impressed.”

This time she doesn’t bother trying to cloak it with humor. Her tone is clipped and holds a touch of resentment.

I’m pretty sure this girl hates me, but I don’t know how much sympathy I can muster for her. She’s sitting there with her boyfriend at her side. She has no right to be overtly hostile to her ex-boyfriend’s fake girlfriend.

Honestly, this is fun. I’m absolutely nailing this role. And I’ve only just begun.

Shane’s going to kill me.