Page 73 of The Dixon Rule

“No? So you’re telling me you didn’t kiss me last night to make her jealous? To show her what she’s missing?”

Shane’s voice becomes gravelly again. “I can honestly say that in that moment, Lynsey was the last thing I was thinking about.”

Our gazes lock for a second. A ripple of heat travels between us.

Oh no. Nope. This tingling between my legs is not good.

“You do want her back, though,” I say, pushing the issue.

He doesn’t answer for a long time, which is all the answer I need.

“I just had this whole future in mind, you know? For the two of us.”

That catches me off-guard. “Future? I didn’t realize fuckboys thought that far ahead.”

“I’m not a fuckboy.”

I lift a brow.

“I know it seems like it. I’m sure Gigi told you I went a little sex-crazed this year.”

“You single-handedly tried to bang the entire cheer team.”

“That’s an exaggeration. But yeah, I did hook up a lot.” He sighs. “But it’s not what I want. I think I had to get all that out of my system to accept I’m a relationship guy.”

I’m not sure I believe him, but I can’t deny he seems sincere.

I have to get ready for work, so I leave Shane at the pool and head upstairs, where I stuff my work clothes in my backpack because I wouldn’t be caught dead walking to work in my uniform. Della’s Diner is literally the most outdated place in the world. It’s very retro. The uniforms are super tacky, but the customers seem to love the blue-polyester getup with its white collar and matching apron. The managers do let us wear white sneakers instead of roller skates or some awful shit. And although I’m sure they’d love for us to style our hair in beehives, ponytails are tolerated.

My shift flies by. Saturday nights always do. It’s so busy I can never check the time, so I’m always pleasantly surprised when the diner suddenly clears out without warning, and I realize it’s thirty minutes till closing. It’s my favorite time of the night.

I’m behind the pie counter cleaning up when the bell over the door rings, and a customer enters the fluorescent-lit room.

Percy.

My jaw tightens. I was stacking cups, and now I slam one down a little too hard. I don’t mean to put so much force behind it, but thankfully the glass doesn’t shatter.

“Are you okay?” asks Dev, the other remaining server. Everyone else has left for the night.

“I’m fine.” I nod curtly toward our new arrival. “I’ll take this one. I know him.”

I march over as Percy is sliding into a booth.

“What are you doing here?” I ask angrily.

He holds up both hands in surrender. “Grabbing a cup of coffee.”

“Percy.”

“And hoping we can have a quick chat.”

“I’ve said all I need to say.”

“Well, I haven’t said what I needed to say.” His voice rises, drawing Dev’s attention.

My colleague tips his chin in a silent question, and I respond with the slight shake of my head. I can handle it.

I give Percy a warning look. “This is where I work. Please.”

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