Page 8 of The Dixon Rule

“It all looks great,” I assure her. “I mean it. Thanks again for everything you did. I couldn’t have decorated it more perfectly myself.”

Mom literally chose it all: the paint swatches, the artwork for the walls. The random shit I probably wouldn’t have even thought about, like dish racks and coat hangers.

“Of course,” she says. “Anything for my kid. Have you—Maryanne! No! Give me that baking soda!” Her voice grows muffled as she reprimands my little sister. Then she’s back, and I hear her clearly again. “Sorry. Your sister is driving me up the wall. She’s trying to build a modified bottle rocket.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“They learned how to make mini bottle rockets at camp last week and she found a way to modify it so it’s more powerful.” Mom curses under her breath. “This is what we get for sending her to space camp.”

“I thought she was doing geology camp.”

“No, that’s in August.”

Only my little sister would be attending not one but two science camps in the span of a summer. Luckily, this doesn’t make her a nerd because she’s legitimately the coolest ten-year-old I’ve ever met in my life. Maryanne is awesome. So are my parents, for that matter. We’ve always been super tight.

“Anyway, what else did I want to ask you?” she says thoughtfully. “Oh right. The three other condos in Red Birch. What about your neighbors? Have you met any of them?”

“Just one. She was outside her apartment buck naked when we got here.”

“What? You’re joking?” Mom gasps.

“Nope. She was chasing after a cat and dropped her towel. Best accident I’ve ever witnessed.”

“Don’t be gross, Shane.”

I laugh to myself. “Sorry. Anyway, don’t worry. She hates my guts, so we’re all good.”

“What? That isn’t good at all. Why doesn’t she like you?”

“Oh, I know her from Briar—she’s a friend of a friend. It’s fine. I don’t consider her a real neighbor. I’m sure the other ones are awesome and not at all obnoxious.”

We chat for a bit longer, and I make plans to come home to Vermont at the end of the week for a couple days. After I end the call, I wonder who else might be in town this week. If any old high school friends are visiting for the summer and—

Is this what we’re doing now? a voice in my head mocks. Lying to ourselves?

Oh fuck. Fine. I wonder if Lynsey will be there. And I know I shouldn’t wonder. Or care. Because we broke up a little over a year ago, and that’s a fuckin’ long time to still be thinking about someone.

Fortunately, my phone buzzes with an incoming text before I can dwell on how pathetic I am for still being hung up on my ex-girlfriend.

CRYSTAL:

Are you all moved in?

I ran into her in town earlier when the boys and I grabbed coffee from Starbucks before heading over here. She’s cute. Dark, shiny hair. Great smile. Even greater rack. We exchanged numbers while standing in line, much to the amusement of Beckett and Will.

Since I need to redirect my brain ASAP, I waste no time composing a response to Crystal. The last thing I want to do tonight is sit here obsessing over my ex. I’m better than that. And hornier.

ME:

Wanna chill tonight?

CRYSTAL:

Yeah, I could hang. I don’t have cheer camp tomorrow.

I guess I should also mention that Crystal is a cheerleader at Briar. Yup. Another one of Diana’s teammates.

Look at me, breaking all the Dixon rules.

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