The Dixon Rule: Chapter 10

I CAREFULLY OPEN THE FRONT DOOR, MAKING SURE IT REMAINS PARTIALLY closed so Percy understands I’m not inviting him inside. I greet him with a question rather than a hello.

“What are you doing here?”

But the answer is in his hands. The brown bag he’s holding bears the Della’s Diner logo, and the splotch of grease on the bottom tells me the breakfast sandwiches I like are in there.

It’s a sweet gesture, but I didn’t ask for it, and I don’t particularly want it.

“I brought you breakfast,” my ex says with a strained smile.

“Thank you. That’s nice. But I literally just woke up and I’m not hungry.” I frown as something occurs to me. “How did you get into the building?”

“Louis buzzed me in. I told him you wouldn’t mind.”

I grit my teeth because I do mind and now I need to talk with Louis. He works the weekend day shift at the Sycamore front desk, and he knows better than to let anyone onto the property without buzzing the owner first. Yes, Percy had been a constant weekend visitor for the six months we were dating, but I never once told Louis he could let Percy in willy-nilly.

In fact, I might have to lodge a complaint at this morning’s HOA meeting. Which starts soon, I realize. Brenda strikes her gavel promptly at ten.

Crap, I almost slept through it. This is unacceptable. I don’t miss HOA meetings if I can help it. Maybe I should be thanking Percy for the wake-up call.

…No. I’m still irritated.

“Look, I appreciate the gesture, but you shouldn’t have come.”

He’s unable to shutter his frustration in time. “You’re still mad at me,” he says flatly.

“I’m not mad. I was never mad.”

“When I came over this week, you seemed mad.”

“No, I was simply pointing out why we’re not a good match.”

I hear a rustling behind me, turning to glimpse a shadow moving past the kitchen. Will is walking to the bathroom.

Shit. I close the gap another inch, so the door is pressed against my shoulder. Percy doesn’t miss my response.

“Is someone in there?” he demands.

“No,” I lie.

“You can tell me if there is.”

No, I can’t. Because then you’re going to lose your shit like you always do.

But I don’t say any of that out loud. It’s apparent that a friendship with Percy is not sustainable. And it’s time he knew it.

Unlike most people, I’m not averse to confrontation. I know my boundaries, I’ve always been confident in myself, and I always follow words with actions.

I speak in a firm tone. “I don’t think we can be friends.”

He rears as if I’ve struck him. Then his shoulders deflate, and his Adam’s apple bobs in a panicked gulp. “So you are still angry.”

“I already told you, I’m not angry. But I’ve had a lot of time to reflect since we broke up, and I truly believe this is not a healthy situation anymore. We should both be trying to move on. You shouldn’t be bringing me breakfast.” I nod toward the greasy Della’s bag. “We’re not getting back together, and no amount of fried egg sandwiches is going to change that.”

“This is a friendship gesture,” he insists.

“If it was a friendship gesture, you wouldn’t care if there was someone in my apartment.”

“So there is.” His eyes flash, and the hairs on my neck stand at attention.

I curl my fingers over the edge of the door. “There isn’t.”

“I think you’re lying. I think you have a man in there.” Accusation drips from his tone. “Is it your neighbor? The hockey player?”

“Percy.” Frustration gathers inside me, tensing my muscles. “Every word you’re saying right now is the reason we can’t be friends. I’m sorry things ended and that you didn’t want them to, but we’re not together anymore. So, please, I need you to respect that. I need you respect my boundaries and go.”

He stands perfectly motionless for a moment. A second ticks by. Two. Then three. His already sharp cheekbones become even more prominent as his cheeks seems to hollow. He’s grinding his teeth. Dead silent and chalk still.

Finally, he shakes his head and mutters, “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were different.”

I don’t care! Just leave!

Out loud, I say, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

With one last disparaging look, he turns on his heel and marches away. He takes the breakfast bag with him, as if I’m unworthy of it now.

Percy’s footfalls echo in the staircase, but I don’t budge from my doorway until I hear the telltale buzzing from downstairs. The noise the front door makes whenever anyone exits or enters Red Birch.

Once there’s nothing but blessed silence, I release a long exhalation. God. This is why I’m fifty-fifty on relationships. Sometimes I adore them. Other times—when they explode like a grenade in your face, for example—they’re a fucking hassle and I tell myself I should be having a lot more casual sex.

The door of apartment 2B suddenly creaks open. I catch movement from the corner of my eye as Shane pokes his head out.

“Damn, Dixon. You’re a stone-cold bitch. Poor guy.”

“That ‘poor guy’ has been bothering me for months,” I retort. “And don’t eavesdrop. It’s not an attractive quality in a person.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping. Everyone can hear everything in this building. Seriously. We need to speak to whoever did the drywall because they skimped on the good stuff. Poor Niall is probably so pissed at you right now.”

A muffled shout comes from below us. “Don’t speak for me!” There’s a pause. “But I am pissed. And it’s at you, 2B! Your gathering last night was the last straw.”

“Yeah, 2B,” I mock. “The last straw.”

Shane has murder in his eyes. “What did you do to them?”

“To whom?”

“The whole building. And not only Red Birch. I know you’ve been trash-talking me all over Meadow Hill.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you’ve earned your own reputation.”

“Bullshit.”

I hear footsteps behind me and jump when a fully dressed Will appears.

“Everything okay here?” He smiles wryly. “It’s been a very chaotic morning.”

“It’s been a pain in the ass, that’s what it is.”

“Is Will still here?” Shane asks, craning his nosy neck toward my door.

“None of your business.”

I step back into my apartment and slam the door.

“I hate that he lives here,” I say darkly. “I hate it with all of my heart.”

Will laughs. “I kinda like it.”

“Enjoying my misery, huh?”

“I prefer his misery, actually. It’s fun watching you bust his balls. I bet he stays up all night stewing about it, wondering how he can get the last word in.”

There’s a very loud knock on the door.

Will grins. “See?”

Sure enough, when I open the door, Shane stomps past me and walks into my apartment like he lives here.

“I was thinking about it last night and decided that if I’m not allowed to sleep with cheerleaders, then you can’t sleep with hockey players. New rule. The Lindley rule. You can’t screw my teammates.”

“Why not?” I counter, even though absolutely nothing happened between me and Will.

“Spite,” Shane retorts. “And vengeance. This is purely retaliatory.”

“You’re such a child.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh my God, that’s literally what a child would say.”

“Oh, and another rule. You’re not allowed to turn the building against me.”

“Too late,” I say smugly.

“So you did say something to them!”

Will’s gaze swings between us like a Ping-Pong ball. “Are you flirting?”

“No,” I say in horror.

“What did you do to the neighbors?” Shane presses.

“Nothing, I swear.”

He scowls. “Are you lying?”

“Of course.”

Will starts to laugh. He claps Shane on the arm, then glances at me. “Um. I think I’ll leave you guys to it. Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Please don’t leave me with him,” I plead, but Will is already heading for the door. I turn back to Shane. “See what you did? You drive everyone away with your personality. I have no friends because of you.”

His lips twitch. “You’re such a fucking drama queen.”

“Takes one to know one,” I mimic. “With that said, go away. I need to get ready for the HOA meeting. We can finish this conversation…let me check my schedule…never.”

“Don’t worry, we can finish it at the homeowners’ meeting,” Shane says with a smirk. “I’m planning to attend.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare. I have some matters to raise with the council.”

“There is no council.”

“There will be when I’m done with them.”

“What does that even mean!” I wail, but Shane pulls a Will and marches to the door.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes to escort you to the meeting,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare,” I growl after him.

“Oh, I fucking dare” is all I hear as the door shuts.

Oh my God. I hate him. I can’t believe my lips touched his last night. And his tongue was in my mouth. And I liked it.

The memory only exacerbates the morning from hell. I grumble curses under my breath as I get ready. Brushing my teeth angrily and then throwing on a blue sundress with little white flowers on it. While I wait for the coffeemaker to do its thing, I check my phone and find a few messages from my brother and one from Gigi.

Thomas is checking in from Peru, where he’s volunteering with a humanitarian aid organization. He assures me he’s alive and still planning on coming home at the end of the summer for Dad’s annual potluck. Good. I miss him.

Gigi’s message is only twenty minutes old. She sent it from the airport, claiming they’re waiting at their gate and she’s bored because Ryder is reading a book instead of talking to her.

I text her back first since it’s obvious she needs the attention more than Thomas.

ME:

I kissed Shane last night as a dare in a game. It was the worst experience of my life and I ask for privacy during this time of great shame and suffering.

GIGI:

LOL Did you actually kiss him?

ME:

Unfortunately.

GIGI:

Is he a good kisser?

ME:

Like a 5/10?

I’m lying. It was a solid eight. Might’ve even been a nine if we didn’t have an audience. Or maybe the audience is what upped it from seven to eight. It was weirdly hot having eyes on us.

GIGI:

Did he try to feel you up?

ME:

No. But I felt something.

GIGI:

OMG Like you caught feelings?

ME:

No, I literally FELT something. He was rocking a boner, and it was…impressive.

GIGI:

Oh, I know. I bumped into him in the middle of the night once on my way to the bathroom and he was naked.

ME:

And HARD?

GIGI:

No, no. He was flaccid. But even flaccid it was eye-catching.

ME:

I don’t know why, but I’m weirdly affronted by the word flaccid.

GIGI:

Agreed. It’s so unpleasant. Let’s switch to “not hard.”

ME:

Okay, so he was big even while not hard?

GIGI:

Oh yeah. Comparable to a not-hard Ryder, and Ryder’s massive.

This is the first time she’s alluded to Ryder having a large package, and my curiosity is naturally sparked.

ME:

How massive?

GIGI:

None of your business.

ME:

Come on. Share with the class. I won’t ever bring it up to him. Define massive.

There’s a long delay. Then:

GIGI:

10 inches.

I almost choke on my coffee. Oh my fucking God. Look at this guy. Six-foot-five king walking around with a ten-inch cock.

I’m never going to be able to look him in the dick again.

I’m still marveling over Ryder’s downstairs situation when Gigi says it’s time to board and promises to message me from Arizona. I finish my coffee, carrying it to the sink just as, for the thousandth time this morning, a knock sounds from the entryway.

Awesome. Shane is following through on his threat to crash our meeting.

He smirks when I open the door. “Ready?”

“No,” I answer sourly.

“Great. Let’s go.”