Page 6 of The Dixon Rule

Will snorts.

Beckett glances up with a grin. “Yeah, sorry, mate, but that is one bird you’re not gonna win over with those dimples.”

He’s probably right about that.

“Dude, she really doesn’t like you,” Will adds, hammering the point home. “I grabbed dinner with her and Gigi last week, and when your name came up, Diana rolled her eyes so hard, it looked like they were gonna pop out of her face.”

“Aw, thank you. Hearing that makes me feel so good about myself.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure your massive ego took a real hit.”

I walk over to help Will with the cushions and then the three of us drag the couch to a new spot after Beck decides it can’t be under the window because it’ll get too cold in the winter. We position the sectional so it now faces the exposed red brick that makes up the far wall of living room. I step back to examine the layout. It’s perfect.

“We should mount the TV there,” I say, pointing to the brick. “Can we drill into that?”

“Yeah, should be fine,” Beckett answers, walking over to study the wall. He shoves a few messy strands of blond hair out of his face. “Larsen, grab the drill?”

“Look at you,” I mock. “Mr. Handyman.”

Beckett winks. “Are you seriously surprised to hear I’m good with my hands?”

Good point.

Once we’ve got the couch and TV squared away, we head for the bedroom to put the bed together. It’s a queen, although I probably could’ve fit a king in here. Will unpacks the hardware. Beckett and I organize the various pieces of sleek dark-cherry wood. While we work, Beck rambles on about everything he plans to do when he’s home this summer. Technically speaking, his home is in Indianapolis, which is where his family moved when Beckett was ten, but he was born and half raised in Australia. He’s leaving for Sydney on Sunday.

“Sucks neither of you are coming,” he says glumly. “I get why Ryder can’t. But seriously? Neither of you could get away?”

I shrug. “Yeah, sorry. I can’t fuck off to Australia. Summer’s really the only time I get to hang out with my family.” It’s the truth. For the rest of the year, I’m laser-focused on hockey and, to a lesser extent, the schoolwork required in order to remain eligible to play.

Beckett nods. “I feel you. Family’s important.” I know he’s tight with his parents and with his cousins in Australia. He’s an only child, so they’re the closest things to siblings he has.

“I’m surprised you’re not going,” I say, glancing at Will.

He shrugs. “I’m working this summer. I want to do a backpacking trip through Europe after graduation. Maybe spend six months to a year over there.”

“Nice. Sounds awesome.”

Beckett snickers at me. “Coming from the guy who would never be caught dead backpacking.”

“That’s not true. I would totally do it.”

“Really,” Beck says dubiously.

“Sure. I’d wear a backpack while we explored some cool part of the city and then take it off when I returned to my five-star hotel.”

“Bougie prick.”

I grin. In all honesty, I don’t mind roughing it. Camping is great. And backpacking around Europe does sound like a blast. But why travel on a budget when you don’t have a budget?

“You’ve got a landscaping gig or something, right?” I ask Will.

“Pool company.”

My jaw drops. “You’re a pool boy?”

As Will nods, Beckett heaves a loud sigh.

I glance over in amusement. “Do you have something to add?”

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