The Dixon Rule (Campus Diaries, 2)

Wait, are you flirting?

OUR FIRST GAME ISN’T UNTIL NEXT WEEKEND, SO I’M ABLE TO ATTEND the football team’s season opener in our home stadium with Ryder, Gigi, and a few other teammates. Freshman Blake Logan also tags along. On our way to pick her up from the dorms, Gigi tells me she promised Blake’s dad that she’d watch out for Blake.

Blake’s dad being John fuckin’ Logan. It’s surreal to me, the idea of having John Logan, one of the best defensemen of the last couple decades, as your father.

I wonder what my life would have been like if my dad’s NHL journey had ended differently. Hell, I might not even be here. Maybe he would’ve been so absorbed in the professional hockey lifestyle that he decided to hold off on having children for a few years. Or never had them at all.

In the stands near the fifty-yard line, I sit between Patrick Armstrong and Blake, who boasts those fresh-faced girl-next-door looks with a light smattering of freckles and her brown hair arranged in a side braid. But that body is dangerous, hugged by tight jeans and a halter top that bares her midriff. I can understand why John Logan enlisted some bodyguards. Dudes are going to be all over this chick.

On the field, the football team is looking incredible. It’s only their first game, but I’m impressed by how well they gel. Our quarterback connects with every pass, and our superstar wide receiver is on fire tonight. He’s a junior now, but his sophomore season was equally explosive. I wasn’t able to catch as many games as I would’ve liked, but I remember the entire campus buzzing about Isaac Grant last year.

During halftime, Diana leads her squad in a lively, stunt-heavy routine, knocking it out of the park, of course. I can’t take my eyes off her. That short cheerleading uniform reveals a lot of leg and a lot of stomach as she’s tossed through the air by the men on the team. I can’t wait to fuck her tonight.

After the game, Diana meets us in the parking lot, bouncing on her white tennis shoes. She’s still in her uniform, hair in a high ponytail, eyes shining.

“You killed it,” Gigi tells her.

“Thanks, babe.” She hugs the girls. “Ready for your first frat party, Blakey?”

“Yeah, excited about the party, Blakey?” I mock.

Blake rolls her eyes at me. “One, don’t ever call me Blakey. Only Di is allowed. And two, I’m being dragged to this thing against my wishes. I’ve been promised the full college experience and apparently that involves drunk frat guys.”

“She needs to be initiated into campus life,” Diana says firmly. “It’s not college without drunk frat boys.”

Diana, Blake, Patrick, and Austin Pope pile into my Mercedes. I’m not planning on drinking tonight, so I’m the DD, chauffeuring us to Greek Row.

“Did you see the way Madison was glaring at me in the parking lot?” I grumble to Diana. I can still feel the cheerleader’s dour gaze boring into me.

She reaches over from the passenger side, resting her hand on my thigh. “Can’t charm them all, babe.”

“I still can’t believe the cheerleaders held an intervention for you. About me.”

Patrick chortles from the back seat. “For real?”

Diana twists around to grin at him. “It was amazing. I wish I’d filmed it.”

“What, do they all hate you or something?” Blake asks curiously.

“They sure didn’t hate me when they were moaning my name,” I taunt.

Diana smacks my arm. “Uncouth!”

“Got it,” Blake says in amusement. “So you broke all their hearts.”

“Their hearts shouldn’t have been involved in the first place,” I argue. “Seriously. This is why I think casual sex is some sick joke. A hoax society decided to play on us. Seems like it only upsets people.”

“Honestly, I deserved the intervention,” Diana sighs. “It was payback for all the times I told them how awful you were. To them this must seem like I’ve lost my mind.”

The frat house comes into view, and I park twenty yards away on the street. I’d like some distance between my Mercedes and inebriated assholes, thank you very much.

Music reverberates so loudly that I can feel the beat standing on the sidewalk outside of Kappa Nu. People are filtering in and out, some of them already stumbling even though it’s only eight o’clock. Neon lights flash out of the front door, and the deafening music combined with the inadequate lighting is a headache waiting to happen. I sort of wish I were drinking.

Diana links her arm through Blake’s. “Now, seeing as this is your first official college party, don’t let the boys in there give you the wrong idea of men,” she warns. “These are not men—they are overgrown children. They think fart jokes are funny, and their flirting consists of holding your legs during a keg stand and saying ‘nice tits.’”

“It’s true,” Patrick confirms to Blake. “By the way, nice tits.”

She grins at him.

We enter the frat house, Diana walking ahead of me, hips swinging and ass swaying in that tiny skirt.

I capture her waist and tug her backward. “Want to go upstairs and sit on my face?” I whisper in her ear.

She shivers. “Stop tempting me.”

As the others venture deeper into the party, we remain in the hall, my body pressed against her back. I slip both hands under her skirt and cup her ass. Diana squirms.

I rest my chin on her shoulder. “You know, considering all the cheerleaders I’ve been with—”

“All five thousand of them?”

“All million of them. I’ve never actually fucked anyone while they’re wearing a cheer uniform.”

Her answer is a taunt. “Who says I’m going to let you fuck me?”

“Is your hand under her skirt?” Beckett drawls, coming up to us with Will in tow.

“No,” I lie.

“I can see it.”

“You’re hallucinating.”

Diana laughs. I give her ass cheek a little swat before sliding my hands out. Will glances at me. He doesn’t say anything, but I’m sure he’s thinking about what happened in Diana’s apartment that night. I think about it often.

It wasn’t awkward, either, when he and I drove to practice the next morning. I expected it to be, but we chatted in the car as if nothing had happened. I guess Will’s used to playing it cool after a night of kinky sex. God knows he has experience with it these days.

“Dixon!” someone shouts when we enter the crowded living room.

For a second I’m startled because I’m the one who calls her that. Isaac Grant, star wide receiver, saunters toward us holding a red cup full of beer and sporting a victorious grin. He has every right to gloat. He finished that game with ten catches for a hundred and eighty-two yards, two touchdowns. He’s a weapon.

Isaac throws an arm around Diana and smacks a kiss on her cheek.

I try to ignore the sizzle of jealousy that heats my blood. The cheer team attends every football game, so the players and cheerleaders spend a lot of time together, I get that. Diana’s bound to be close with some players.

But Grant triggers my possessive side. He’s a good-looking dude. Tanned skin, chiseled jaw, at least six four, and ripped. His only flaw? He’s a ginger. Although admittedly, his hair is more auburn with blond highlights as opposed to creepy orange.

I greet Isaac with a nod. “Hey, bro. Good game.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t miss the way I reach for Diana’s hand. “Dixon, this your boyfriend?”

“Yup.”

He continues to size me up. “Basketball?”

“Hockey.”

“Nice. You hockey bros are tough as nails.”

“Damn right.”

Grant’s interested gaze shifts toward Blake. “Who’s your friend?” he asks Diana.

“This is Blake. Blake, Isaac.”

Almost instantly, he lays on the charm. “What did you think of the game, gorgeous?”

Blake looks amused. “Why do you assume I went to your game?”

“You didn’t?”

“No, I did.” She flicks up an eyebrow. “That second TD catch was impressive.”

“I aim to please.” Grant proceeds to crank it up to another level, going on about the game while throwing in several double entendres to hint that his physical prowess extends beyond the field.

He’s midsentence when Blake cuts him off.

“Wait, are you flirting?”This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Isaac looks startled.

I snort into my drink.

“Oh, you were. Got it. I thought we were all just listening to you tell us how great you were, but then you made that comment about your strong hands and nimble fingers, and I was like, oh shit. He’s flirting.” She glances at Diana. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Is he a close friend of yours?”

I keel over in laughter because this man can get any girl he wants and a freshman just demolished his ego in five seconds.

Isaac narrows his eyes. “What did you say your name was again?”

Diana can’t control her own laughter. “Oh, now he’s pretending he doesn’t know your name,” she tells Blake. Giggling, she strokes a soothing hand over Grant’s broad shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetie. Just abort. Go somewhere else and lick your wounds.”

Eyes narrowed, he saunters off to save face. And yet, for the next hour, I keep catching him staring at Blake. Diana notices too.

“I think you’ve intrigued our superstar,” she says. “Tread carefully, though, because his reputation is warranted. I think he’s slept with every cheerleader on the team, even the ones with boyfriends.”

“Including you?” I growl.

“No.” Then she sighs. “We just made out.”

Blake snickers into her beer. I know I shouldn’t encourage underage drinking, but so far, she’s only had one, and I’m keeping a close eye.

“You don’t have to worry,” Blake assures us. “I’m allergic to arrogant men.”

Like Diana warned her, the frat boys become more and more juvenile the drunker they get, but the party doesn’t get as rowdy as I expect. Aside from one Kappa Nu pledge streaking naked down the street and another one jumping off the roof into the backyard pool, it’s fairly tame for a Greek Row kegger.

I dance with Diana and Blake. Chat with Ryder and the guys. I ask Will to join me at the driving range tomorrow morning, and when he says he can’t, Diana tugs on my arm.

“I’ll come with you if you want,” she offers.

“Really?”

“Sure. You were at that club almost every day this summer. I want to see what all the fuss is about.”

Later, we’re watching a competitive game of beer pong in the dining room when Isaac Grant braves Blake’s sharp tongue again and joins us. His biceps flex beneath a black T-shirt with the Briar football logo.

“What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?” he asks Blake.

A frown creases her forehead. “Breakfast?”

He winks. “You’re spending the night at my place—it’s only fair I buy you breakfast.”

“Smooth,” I tell him.

Blake remains unimpressed. “Sorry. I’ve got plans.” She tips her head at Diana. “I think I’ve had enough of this party. Are you ready to go?”