The Dixon Rule (Campus Diaries, #2)

by Elle Kennedy

I have a confession to make. I’m not a fuckboy.

ME: I don’t want a relationship. …with you. That’s always the unspoken caveat, and sometimes I wish social etiquette didn’t require us to pretend that’s not what we mean. If someone wants to be in a relationship with you, they will. They won’t string you along. They won’t hit you up in the middle of the night for sex. They won’t feed you endless excuses about how they’re “not cut out for relationships” or how “you deserve so much better.” They would be with you, plain and simple.

Nothing like hate to bring people together, I guess.

She tastes like whiskey and temptation, and I never want this to end.

I’ve never felt more on top of my game, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. After practice, Jensen whistles to call me over. “Lindley! The fuck did you put in your cereal this summer?”

“You are unstoppable. Don’t let what this one asshole did convince you that you’re anything other than unstoppable. You’re Diana Dixon, for chrissake.”

“Admitting that you’re weak sometimes doesn’t mean you’re not strong. It means you’re human.”

“Aww. Coach. You’re adorable.” “Shut the fuck up.”

“I don’t want a sweet little wife.” He kisses my shoulder. “I want a sassy bitch.” I snicker. “Did you just call me a bitch?” “Mmm-hmmm.”

“Jesus, Dixon, you’re so sappy. Have some more self-respect.”