under Pax and veer to the left in the direction of the math buildings. “I have to get to class.”

“We still have twenty minutes!” Poppy protests.

“I know, but I want to get a good seat.”

She frowns, her shoulders sagging. “Soak it up while you can because, after this week, you’re going to be a normal college student, slipping into class with five seconds to spare.”

I don’t even attempt to remind her that won’t ever happen. She already knows my aspiration to become a cetologist can’t be rivaled with.

“My fingers are crossed that you have a rugby player in your class!” Poppy yells.

I laugh. “You, too!”

Paxton shakes his head. “At least spare me the details.”

“Done,” I agree.

“Where are you headed?” he asks.

I scrunch my nose. “Math.”

Pax grins. “I'm heading over to the math buildings, too, hang on. Pop, if you need anything, just let one of us know.” He pauses, his gaze moving between her and me. “I’m serious, though. You guys don’t want to get mixed up with any athletes. All they care about is the game and what happens on the field. None of them are looking for anything serious because they’re all hoping to either be drafted or possibly transfer to a new school for a better position.”

Rule number four feels like a lead weight in my stomach: don’t get attached to someone who’s going to leave soon. Poppy’s ex-boyfriend, Mike, taught me this lesson, and I already know Lincoln will be moving on to bigger and better things—possibly as soon as the end of this year, next year at the latest.

“We’re not looking for engagement rings,” Poppy tells him. “I don’t know why guys always assume girls want to get serious? Have you ever stopped to consider maybe we just want to casually date?”

Paxton’s eyes narrow in thought, then he looks at Arlo and Lincoln. “Pretty sure we’ve seen enough crying girls to prove otherwise.”

“Tears of joy,” I say.

Pax smirks. “This isn’t high school. Here, athletes are practically celebrities. People ask for our autographs and our pictures. Follow us on and off campus. They randomly show up at the house. I’ve had girls sneak into my bed. I get sexts every damn day, and I’ve been proposed to at least a dozen times. Trust me when I say there are a lot of girls looking for more than a good time. They want money and fame, and they know that’s a possibility if they find the right dude.”

“That’s pathetic,” I say.

His smirk grows as he shrugs. “Is it? Do you know how much a first draft athlete makes?”

“If a girl is only trying to sleep with you because she’s hoping to date a famous athlete, then she deserves to shed a few tears,” Poppy says before I can consider girls looking at my brother in the light he’s painting.

I look at my best friend, and she’s cool and calm, her shoulders pulled back, likely because this news isn’t sending her reeling, realizing that even without the obvious ten rules for me not to date Lincoln, there’s an entire campus vying for his attention.

“Trust me, you guys don’t want to get mixed up in all that drama,” Paxton says again.

Poppy smiles widely. “We already know to avoid the football team. Our attention is set on rugby. We also have the swimming team. Water polo. Wrestling.” She ticks them off on her fingers. “Lacrosse…”

“Lacrosse,” Arlo scoffs. “How is that even a sport?”

“Okay, I’m really going this time.” I take two steps back, offering a half-hearted wave before turning around.

“Yes,” Paxton says. “Focus on school and important shit.”

“Like you do?” Poppy asks, sarcasm has her lowering her chin and raising her eyebrows.

“Do what I say not what I do, or however that shit goes.” He jogs the few feet to catch up to me and drapes an arm over my shoulders, matching my pace.

“Hey, Lawson!”

Paxton and I both turn at the sound of our last name. Lincoln stands beside Arlo, grinning.

“What?” Pax yells.

“Nothing.” Lincoln shakes his head, and then a girl walks past him, saying something to him that I can’t hear from where we’re stopped some hundred feet away.

He’s too far away, and my brother is standing too close to confirm it, but I swear Lincoln’s looking directly at me.

I swallow, staring back.

“See,” Pax whispers. “Trust me. You don’t want to deal with dating an athlete.” His arm around my shoulders tightens, and he begins to turn, leaving me to follow him, my head on a swivel as I try to watch Lincoln’s reaction.

The last thing I see before I turn toward the math building is Lincoln flashing a smile to the stranger.

Continue Reading Bending the Rules

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, thank you so much for reading this book. I know there are hundreds of thousands of amazing books, and I truly appreciate you choosing to read this one.

A very special thanks to Karen Cundy and Lisa Ackroyd for helping me with all of my British knowledge and answering a ridiculous number of questions. You two are rockstars and I love you dearly.

To my husband who learned how to poach eggs while I wrote this book and delivered dinner to my desk most nights, you prove romance isn’t always a hot makeout scene but about dependability and teamwork.

And a HUGE thank you to my editor, Arielle Brubaker, who is so instrumental to my sanity each time I get stuck! XO!

About the Author

Mariah Dietz is a USA Today Bestselling Author and self proclaimed nerd. She lives with her husband and sons in North Carolina.

Mariah grew up in a tiny town outside of Portland, Oregon where she spent most of her time immersed in the pages of books that she both read and created.

She has a love for all things that include her family, good coffee, books, traveling, and dark chocolate. She's also been known to laugh at her own jokes.

www.mariahdietz.com

mariah@mariahdietz.com

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