Page 144 of The Dixon Rule

Their laughter tickles my back as I stomp out of the locker room. Along with it being our first practice, it’s also the first day of classes. I’ve got Media Ethics starting in thirty minutes on the west end of campus, so I have to hike over to the cluster of buildings that houses most of the social science lecture halls.

Five minutes into my speed walk, I bump into Lynsey.

I experience a burst of genuine shock. Even though she confirmed she’d be attending Briar, I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see her on campus. She hasn’t contacted me at all, either, since the day she called at the end of July.

We both halt in our tracks.

Her dark eyes crinkle at the sight of me, lips curving. “Hi.”

“Hi.” That familiar smile softens something in my chest.

Neither of us seems to know if we should embrace, so we stand there for a moment before she finally steps forward to give me an awkward hug.

“How’ve you been?” she asks after we break apart.

“I’m good. How about you? How are you settling in? All moved into the dorm?”

Lynsey nods. “I have a single in Halston House near the performance center. Tyreek helped me move my stuff in this weekend.”

I nod back. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s great. Excited for the basketball season.” She pauses. “How’s Diana?”

“Also great.”

“So you’re still together.” Her expression is hard to decipher.

“Yep,” I confirm.

There’s another beat of awkwardness. A couple months ago, I was desperate to hear her voice. Now I’m unsure of what to say to her. I can’t flirt—she has a boyfriend. And even if I wanted to flirt, it feels disrespectful toward Diana to do that. She and I might not be together, but we still have sex almost every night.

Lynsey finally puts an end to the discomfort. “Should we get together now that we’re on the same campus? Maybe have coffee sometime next week?” she suggests.

Despite myself, my heart flips, and it pisses me off that she still has this effect on me. I don’t want her to.

“Sure,” I say, nodding slowly. “Sounds good.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

DIANA

SOS

“IT’S ALL ABOUT THE QUICK STEPS. PRETEND WE’RE DANCING IN A FAIRY tale. Like we’re at Cinderella’s ball.”

“Why on earth would that help me with the steps? We’re not cartoons. We’re doing this for real.”

Shane tries to mimic my steps, cursing when he messes up for the third time. It’s Thursday, and we both had early classes that let out by four, so we’re squeezing in a waltz rehearsal.

“Why can’t you lead?” he grumbles.

“Because the man leads.”

“Aren’t we trying to smash the patriarchy?”

“Yep, but the competitive ballroom dance world hasn’t gotten that memo yet. Ergo, the man leads.”

We start over, dancing across the Meadow Hill gym as the tempo gets faster.

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