The Dixon Rule (Campus Diaries, 2)

Don’t turn me on this early in the morning

I SPEND MOST OF THE WEEK GOLFING AND WORKING OUT, THE TWO CORE tenets of the Summer of Shane. So far, life is pretty phenomenal. I feel sorry for the pool-boy Wills and construction-laborer Ryders of the world. I grabbed drinks with Will last night at Malone’s, and he was so tired and sunburned from work, he almost passed out in our booth.

On Thursday night, when I return to my apartment from the Meadow Hill gym, I receive a text that sends my pulse racing.

LYNSEY:

Is that offer to crash on your couch still open?

I stare at the message for an eternity. I don’t want to sound too eager. Can’t be responding with a “Hell yeah. Get your sweet ass to Hastings.” Because we’re supposed to be friends, and I shouldn’t be commenting on her sweet ass. I also can’t respond too fast, so rather than test my willpower, I leave my phone on the couch and go take a shower.

My sweaty T-shirt is still plastered to my chest. I would’ve stayed longer at the gym and done a few more reps of deadlifts, but by the end of my workout, I had some company in the form of two middle-aged female residents whose blatant ogling was beginning to freak me out. I swear, all the women in this complex are sex starved.

After my shower, I slip into a pair of basketball shorts and return to the living room. It’s been seventeen minutes. That seems long enough.

ME:

Of course.

LYNSEY:

Can I call you?

ME:Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Sure.

A moment later, her throaty voice fills my ears. It’s so familiar, it feels like coming home.

“I arranged for a Briar tour on Saturday morning. One of the summer students is going to show me around campus, and then I have a meeting with the head of the Performing Arts department.”

“Wow. This transfer thing is for real, huh?” My pulse quickens at the notion of having her here all the time. I mean, it’s a big campus and we’ll probably never see each other, but just knowing she’s here…

But I can’t get ahead of myself.

“I think so, yeah. I’d like to talk to the department heads and some of the faculty before I make any decisions, though. There’s a summer course in progress right now. Advanced ballet. They’re going to let me join the class for the afternoon.”

“That’s great. I hope it works out,” I say casually, trying to pretend there isn’t a hockey stadium full of fans cheering inside me.

“I’ll probably leave Connecticut around dinner time tomorrow and be at your place around seven or eight? Does that work?”

“Sure. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you. Oh, I might be bringing a friend, if that’s okay. Not sure yet, though.”

“That’s fine.” I push away the resulting pang of disappointment because I can’t exactly ask her not to bring Monique or one of the old crew. One, it would sound sketchy, and two, they were my friends too all throughout high school. It’ll be good to see them, anyway.

“I’ll text you tomorrow when I’m heading out,” she says. “And thanks again, Lindy. This’ll be so much easier than grabbing a hotel in Boston, since you’re only ten minutes from campus.”

“Of course. Like I said, anytime.”

My heart is thrashing in my chest as I end the call. Buzzing with energy, I quickly examine my surroundings. My apartment’s clean, but Lynsey is sort of a neat freak. In high school she used to drag her finger through the layer of dust on my bedroom window ledge and say, “Is this how you want to live, Shane?” It was cute. Well, most of the time. I can’t deny sometimes it could get annoying.

During my cleaning mission, it comes to my attention that I don’t own a vacuum. I have no idea how my mother allowed this atrocity to happen. Probably because she pays for a cleaner and assumed I would never even attempt to tidy up between appointments.

There are no chain stores in Hastings, only small boutiques, but the hardware store probably sells vacuums. I could go tomorrow morning when it opens.

A mocking voice in my head points out I’m going to a lot of effort for Lynsey, who might not even come, but I inform that voice that everyone needs a vacuum, so fuck off, please.

The next morning, I’m awake bright and early, leaving my apartment at the same time Diana’s door swings open.

“Morning,” she says when our gazes collide.

“Morning.”

She’s wearing white shorts and a yellow T-shirt with the words SPIRIT ACADEMY stenciled on in a blue scribble. Her platinum-blond hair is tied in a high ponytail.

“Heading to work?” I ask as we fall into step together.

Holding a travel mug, she practically races down the stairs. “Yeah, and I’m late. I overslept, and I’m pretty sure I missed the bus.”

“Where’s this spirit camp? I’ll give you a ride.”

Her expression is full of distrust.

“C’mon. Where do you need to be?”

“The high school in Hastings. And I’m only saying yes because I’m desperate.”

“I appreciate you allowing me the honor.”

In the parking lot, Diana rolls her eyes at my shiny silver Mercedes. “God, you are such a spoiled brat. Did your mommy and daddy buy you that?”

“Of course.” I unlock the doors and slide in, waiting for her to settle in the passenger side. Once she’s seated, I tip my head and ask, “If your parents bought you an expensive car for high school graduation, are you honestly saying you wouldn’t accept it?”

She purses her lips. Then sighs. “Fuck no. I’d snatch the keys out of their hands before they changed their minds.”

“Exactly,” I say, and start the engine.

The school is only a five-minute drive. I steer through the automatic gates at the side of the apartment complex and turn onto the street. Mature trees line both sides of the road, residential gardens in full bloom. Everything we drive past is green and colorful. I love summer.

“Why’d you oversleep?” I ask. “Go to bed late?”

“I stayed up watching commentary videos about Fling or Forever. The internet is shook that Ben chose Jasmine.”

“I knew he would.”

“I thought he’d pick Zoey for sure.”

“Nah. It was obvious Zoey’s set on Connor because he made her come in the Sugar Suite. Plus, that fight with Ben and Jas was fucking epic. The producers know what they’re doing—of course they steered Ben toward the girl that’s going to bring them the most drama. Zoey’s too sweet.”

“I still can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.”

Neither can I anymore. Kind of started off that way, but after four consecutive episodes, I’m strangely invested in Zoey and the Connor’s relationship.

“Where are you going this morning?” Diana asks with a sidelong look. “You’re not wearing your dorky golf clothes.”

“My golf clothes aren’t dorky. And I’m going to buy a vacuum. I need to clean up for a houseguest.”

She snorts. “It’s Niall’s day off. Can you film his reaction for me?”

“He doesn’t like the vacuum—Wait, why am I even asking? Dude doesn’t like anything that’s over point two decibels.”

Our short drive comes to an end as I pull up in front of the school, a sprawling gray stucco building with white window trims.

I put the car in park so she can get out. “Later, Dixon.”

“Thanks for the ride, Daddy.”

“Don’t turn me on this early in the morning, please.”

She’s laughing as she runs out. We might not have called an official truce, but she seems a lot less hostile ever since I debunked Crystal’s lies. It still smarts that Crystal led Diana to believe not only did we have sex but that I sent her a one-line brush-off afterward. I would never treat a woman like that.

After I drop Diana off, I purchase a vacuum I’ll likely only use once, then spend the next couple hours cleaning and hoping it’s not in vain.

When I finally turn off the vacuum, I hear an aggravated cry from downstairs.

“Finally.”

“Let it go, Niall!” I shout, giving the finger to the door. Fuckin’ Niall.

At around three, Lynsey texts to say she’s heading out. Or rather, she says we’re heading out. I guess that means Monique is coming too. But maybe that’s a good thing. It’s been more than a year since Lynsey and I were alone together. We’ve seen each other since the breakup, but only with other people around.

It suddenly occurs to me that maybe she’s intentionally bringing a buffer along. We’re supposedly friends now, though. Friends shouldn’t require a buffer. Which tells me she’s afraid to be alone with me. And the only reason that would scare her is because…she still has feelings for me too.

Or maybe I’m reaching.

I spend the rest of the afternoon grabbing groceries in town, then squeeze in a quick workout at the complex’s gym. At around seven, Lynsey texts that they’ve reached Boston. That gives me an hour to shower and get dressed. I make an effort not to look like a slob. No basketball shorts, no threadbare tee. I put on jeans and a clean shirt and shove a baseball cap on my head. The hat has the logo of the Warriors, our old high school football team. Maybe it’ll tickle her nostalgia bone.

Just past eight, Richard from the Sycamore buzzes to say my guests have arrived and that he gave them the overnight parking pass I requested so their car isn’t towed. Shortly after, there’s another call to my phone, a buzz-in request from the Red Birch doors.

“It’s me.” Lynsey’s staticky voice fills my ear.

“Come on up.”

My palms are a bit damp, so I wipe them on my jeans. Fuck, I was with this girl for four years. I know her better than I know myself. I shouldn’t be this nervous.

Through the thin walls, I hear footsteps on the staircase.

I open the front door and there she is. Stunning, of course. A white flowered sundress hugs her toned body, revealing a pair of shapely legs honed by years of ballet. She’s straightened her sleek, black hair and wears it loose around her shoulders, rather than tied back in a low ponytail, which she usually prefers.

A hesitant smile plays on her lips. I instantly understand her hesitation when my gaze moves to the guy standing beside her.

I recover fast, forcing an easy smile. “Hey. Glad you made it in one piece.” After a beat, I lean in to give her a brief hug. “You look great.”

Maybe he’s just a friend.

I mean, she did call him a friend.

But I saw the possessive hand he kept on her hip before she hugged me back.

Ignoring the awkward tension hanging in the air, I stick my hand out to the dude. “Hey, man. I’m Shane.”

Lynsey visibly swallows. “Oh, sorry, I’m bad at introductions. Shane, this is Tyreek. My boyfriend.”