Forgetting the Rules: A Second-Chance-Romance Sports Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  Ian’s gaze flickers from Olivia to me. “Talk to who?”

  “You sweetened me up for this moment, didn’t you?” I ask Olivia.

  She grins. “Do you really think I’d let you go alone? I still see this person as a deranged psychopath.”

  “Who are we talking about?” Ian asks, his voice lower and lacking patience.

  “My dad found out who’s been running the rumor site, and I promise, I was planning to tell you, but I want to talk to them first.”

  “Why?” Ian asks.

  “Because I know what it feels like to make a mistake. Because I’m hoping they’re going to tell me it wasn’t intentional to hurt so many. And because I don’t want them to be treated the same way I was.”

  “I say let them get a taste of their own medicine,” Arlo says.

  I turn my attention to Ian. His steel eyes fix on me as his jaw flexes with thought. He slowly nods. “If you want to do this, let’s do it together. This person has proven they’re not trustworthy.”

  I want to object and remind them I’m perfectly capable, but I swallow that rebuttal and nod, not because I’m being compliant or because I’m afraid, but simply because I understand what it’s like to care about someone and feel that level of uncertainty. He wants to support me, and I want to let him. And I want to do the same in turn.

  “Okay.”

  The four of us cross the street, where I pause at the sight of someone I don’t know who’s covered in rumors.

  “Do we know him?” I ask.

  A grin appears on Ian’s face. “A bunch of people are wearing the rumors today. Even several professors. Apparently, a lot of people are tired of assholes.”

  “Let’s hope it sticks.”

  As we get closer, many students stare at us. It’s definitely not the majority who are standing with us, but I’m okay with that. Ian reminds me that it’s not their opinions I need or even care about, and if someone is willing to believe a rumor rather than question it, then they clearly weren’t a friend, much less a good one.

  “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Ian’s eyes round. “Are we talking to them now?”

  I nod.

  Arlo’s hands clench into tight fists. I can tell he wants to come with us for the same reason Ian does, and while revenge is a factor, I have no doubt my safety is his top concern.

  “We’ll be okay,” I tell him. “I’ll let you guys know how it goes.”

  Olivia smiles gently and then looks at Ian. “I’m not saying to hit this person, but maybe you mention how hard you can hit people…”

  I shake my head and grab Ian’s hand.

  When we reach the door, Ian’s brow creases, but he follows me inside.

  Once again, the newsroom is mostly empty. Anthony being a terrible editor and annoying human ensures it will be for most of the year, which makes me a little sad considering it’s been a place filled with energy and ideas in years past.

  I pull in a breath and leave several feet between us. Amita blinks and pulls off her headphones as she swallows thickly.

  “I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours trying to understand why someone I respected so much as a journalist and peer would write such awful and total shit? What did you stand to gain by trying to embarrass the football team?”

  Amita slowly shakes her head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what I just told you.”

  Her gaze flicks to Ian, who stands at my side, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Queer” is easily visible on one forearm, and I hope she reads it and then reads it again. “Did you know that colleges spend more money on sports than they do on scholarships? That the cost of tuition has skyrocketed in the past decade and largely because the budget for sports—for football—has gone up by nearly seventy-percent. Kids can barely afford to get into college and then struggle for the next thirty years to pay it off while these guys who are good at hitting and running and catching a goddamn ball are glorified as heroes, though few will actually contribute to our society because they don’t even have time to attend classes.”

  “That’s not an athlete’s fault,” I point out. “These are points that should be heard, but why on earth would you tear them down? They’re not the enemies. They’re not getting paid to play.”

  “And why in the hell would you go after Rose?” Ian asks. “She’s not on the team.”

  Amita keeps her gaze on me. “You weren’t supposed to be collateral damage,” she says. “You were just missing the point. You kept trying to redeem them all because they’re good looking and throw fun parties.”

  I shake my head. “You think that’s the only reason I cared? If this had been the wrestling team, or the soccer team, or the cheerleading squad, I would have done the same. I told you how immoral and unethical the site was. And the fact you can’t see them as people because you’re so angry is wrong.”

  “It was to draw a point. Did you see how fast they turned on you?” Amita asks. “Two hours was all it took for you to go viral. I posted about the team for weeks, accusing them of cheating, of having affairs, of breaking rules … I could have posted that they killed babies and drank their own blood, and no one would have cared. And then I posted about you having sex with the team, and you became the enemy.” She snaps.

  “You realize that no one out there, none of your stupid followers, connected any of these points? You had an audience, you had a platform, you could have done something creative or good, and instead, you treated us like lab rats for some bigger picture that went unseen. You tried to point out a problem, and in turn, you became the problem.” I shake my head. “Poetic justice, I guess. Leave the stupid site down, Amita. If you try to put it back up again, I’ll expose you, and it won’t be with rumors. It will be with the truth, which in this case is far uglier.”

  “How did you get all of those pictures and rumors?” Ian asks.

  Amita finally turns her dull stare to him. “You’d be surprised how many people wanted you guys to fall from your pedestal. After the first week, people were sending in dozens of emails every day.”

  “Because you set a precedence,” I point out. “Everyone has the power to inspire good or evil, and I’m really sad to say your choice shocked the hell out of me.”

  Amita’s eyes shine with tears, but she says nothing.

  I turn to leave, and Ian is right behind me, his hand on my back. When we get outside, my eyes sting with emotions. I feel sad and hurt and betrayed while also relieved and grateful and loved, but I’m not sure any of those emotions are what has my chest tightening.

  “Are you okay?”

  I shake my head. “She’s a good person. I’ve known her for years, and she’s smart and kind and thoughtful. I just can’t believe she would do this in an attempt to prove a point. A point that no one even saw.” I think about her words. “She deserved to be the editor this year, and I don’t want to make excuses for her, but I kind of wonder if that played a part in this? But then I think about how fast it was for her to make a bad decision, and I wonder if maybe it’s because she didn’t have an Olivia to sound every alarm and get mad at her or a boyfriend who was willing to give up his dreams or a dad who had the power to bring it all down?”

  Ian gives me a tender smile and brushes my hair behind my shoulder. “Your compassion only makes you more gorgeous.” He shakes his head. “You stole my heart, and I hope you know I never want it back.”

  I lace my hands around his neck, basking in his words. “I guess, on the plus side, these rumors brought us together.”

  He chuckles, placing his hands on my hips. “Brought us together sooner.” He draws us closer, lowering his face, so his lips are only a whisper away. “We would have found a way to each other. I would have been fighting for you. I will always be fighting for you.”

  “I love you, Ian Forrest.”

  He grins, and then his lips seal over mine, breathing life and fire and passion into me with a single kiss. And just like that,
my cape and crown and happily ever after feel tangible and possible.

  Epilogue

  “You should be a sexy pirate.”

  Olivia raises a single brow. “I don’t want to be a sexy anything. It’s cold here on Halloween.”

  I grin. “How about Davy Jones?”

  This time she rolls her eyes. “What are you going to be?”

  “I was thinking of getting a gold flapper dress and being Daisy Buchanan.” I don’t tell her it’s inspired by Ian and his reasoning behind throwing parties last year. While I tell Olivia nearly all of my secrets, there are a few that I’m learning I enjoy keeping some to myself—though few.

  “I love that idea,” Olivia says. “And you could probably wear tights so you’re not freezing, although, it sounds like the Halloween party might be on the smaller side. Rae actually asked us if we’d like to help. Right now, it’s just her and Poppy making the plans and I think they want to keep it low key to keep an eye on Paxton.”

  “That’s going to be a hurdle.”

  “Arlo thinks if he and Candace stay broken up this time, Paxton will move forward in a better direction.”

  “Yeah, but can he? Move on, I mean. Those two don’t seem capable of staying apart,” I say as I pull up to the park we’ve been volunteering at.

  Olivia grabs the sweatshirt at her feet. “I don’t know. I hope so.” She opens her car door and I follow her out, pulling my hoodie on. “I can’t believe this is our last day working with Beacon Point and Shady Grove Park,” she says as we meet on the sidewalk.

  “I can’t believe we managed to do so much,” I say as I look across the chain link fence that is no longer broken or deformed or rusted that leads us into the spacious park that looks like an entirely different space than it did when we first started. While we can’t take full credit for everything that was done, we managed to complete a lot with hard work, sweat, and making some unusual friendships.

  “Rose!” Bree calls my name and waves.

  Olivia bumps me with her elbow as I wave back and turn toward her. “I can’t believe you ever doubted that you wouldn’t make an amazing mentor.”

  I release a heavy breath. “It’s weird. I always thought my rules kept me from things I wasn’t good at, but in reality, I’m pretty sure they held me back more than anything.”

  My best friend’s smile is kind and sincere as she hooks her arm with mine. “I think this is going to be our best year of college.”

  I shake my head. “They were all good, and they were all important. It led us here, right?”

  “Did you guys see the new stuff?” Bree announces, her voice filled with enthusiasm as she reaches us.

  I glance across the park once more, disappointed that fall is already arriving and causing leaves to drop across the cleaned space.

  “Someone donated new playground equipment, a disc golf course, and they’re putting in a splash pad for kids. I can’t use it because I’m too old, but still, it’s pretty awesome,” Bree says.

  “A splash pad?” Olivia’s inflection reveals the same doubt I have. “You didn’t hear this from one of the guys on the football team, did you? Because most of them have no idea what they’re talking about.”

  “No. Paige announced it.” She points at Paige, and then looks at me. “Your boyfriend did it.”

  I shake my head. “What?”

  “Well, I guess his dad did, but I’m sure it’s because Ian told him … or asked him … or whatever. How rich is he?”

  I look at Olivia who shakes her head, equally shocked.

  “Anyways, we might have the coolest park in Seattle, and it’s in our neighborhood.” Bree’s smile triggers something in me that makes me want to maul Ian and give him a million kisses.

  “Well, I’m very glad you love this place, but you know you’re still on the hook to come to my Thursday yoga classes, right?”

  “Oh, definitely.” She nods. “I’ve actually been thinking a lot about how you could make the classes more appealing to kids. We could try doing goat yoga or at least adding some sort of theme, you know? Sports or makeup or something more fun than breathing and silence. It’s relaxing, but injecting some fun into it wouldn’t hurt.”

  I grin, searching for a sarcastic retort that doesn’t seem to want to form.

  “Oh, there’s Sabrina. I’ll be right back,” Bree says.

  Olivia looks at me again. “You did that.”

  “Did what?”

  “Helped her come out of her shell.”

  I want to deny it. Like Ian says about us, I have no doubt she would have figured it out on her own, but there’s a part of me that appreciates taking a little stake in possibly helping her find it sooner.

  “Two o’clock, boyfriend wonder is on his way over.” Olivia smiles, and then waves. “I’m going to find Arlo. I’ll catch up with you in a few.”

  I turn in time to see Ian taking his last strides toward me, allowing me to appreciate his confident gait, broad shoulders, and chiseled chest before focusing on his strong jaw, straight nose, and distinctive eyes. His lips come down on mine with a gentle brush. It’s a casual and easy kiss and it’s quickly becoming one of my favorites because the ease and frequency. I’m discovering there are a lot of wonderful habits that routines I get to enjoy now with my title of girlfriend.

  “How was your morning?” he asks, placing his hand on my waist.

  “Anthony offered for me to write a piece about climate change, today.”

  Pride shines in his gaze. “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t give him an answer. I told him I needed some time to think about it.”

  Ian chuckles. “Making him sweat?”

  “He deserves it.”

  Ian’s fingers tighten at my waist.

  “How was your day? I heard you and your family made a large donation to help a very amazing community.”

  “It was all my dad,” he says. “I simply made the suggestion and pointed out the benefits. I was actually hoping to ask you to volunteer with me again.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He nods. “Dustin’s mom has an annual street cleanup where he crashed. It’s this weekend, and I was hoping you’d come with me.”

  “I’d be honored to come with you.”

  His smile is filled with relief. “Thank you.”

  I grin. “Ian Forrest, I love you.”

  His gaze settles on mine, and I feel that intense connection we’ve shared since before we even shared words, only now, my hands itch to touch him and the shallowness in my lungs is because of the anticipation I feel for kissing him, but I still feel like we’re in a different dimension, in another place and time where it’s only him and me and us together. Where we understand each other and things are simple and honest, only now they’re also true.

  “I love you, Rose. I love you so fucking much.” His lips settle on mine again, and this time, I wrap my hands around his neck, and don’t plan on ever letting go.

  Not Ready to Say Good-Bye to the football team of Brighton University?

  Did you know that Lincoln and Arlo have their own books?

  Start with Bending the Rules:

  Download Bending the Rules

  Pre-Order Writing the Rules, the highly anticipated end to The Dating Playbook series, featuring our favorite quarterback, Paxton Lawson! Releasing April 29, 2021!

  Pre-Order Writing the Rules

  If you love New Adult Romance, please check out The Weight of Rain, a new adult sports Romance.

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  Also by Mariah Dietz

  The Dating Playbook Series

  Bending the Rules

  Breaking the Rules

  Defining the Rules

  Exploring the Rules

  Forgetting the Rules

>   Writing the Rules (April 29, 2021)

  The Weight of Rain Duet

  The Weight of Rain

  The Effects of Falling

  The Haven Point Series

  Curveball

  Exception

  The Fallback

  Tangled in Tinsel, A Christmas Novella

  Excertp from The Weight of Rain

  Chapter 1

  “Ben, Brian, Benny, Brent, Bailey?”

  “Isn’t Bailey a girl’s name?” My eyebrows draw down with question, though I’m tired of playing this game.

  “No, I’ve known guys named Bailey. It’s one of those names.” Charleigh twists in the driver’s seat, eyebrows arching knowingly. I catch her glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose and her hand brushing blonde hair from her face before I turn to watch the road on her behalf.

  “One of those names?” My voice is surprisingly even as we dangerously near the median.

  “Yes. One of those names. You know, where a boy or a girl could have it. Like Charleigh.”

  “It wasn’t Bailey. I would have remembered that name for sure.”

  “You were pissed! You can’t even recall how you got home!”

  “Drunk,” I reply automatically. “I was drunk.”

  “Drunk, pissed, same difference.”

  “Only you Brits think pissed means drunk. Here in America, we all think it means angry. We’ve gone over this.”

  “Yeah, yeah, stop changing the subject. Brandon, Brad, Bobby, Benedict?”

  “Benedict?” I cry, turning to face her.

  “Yes, Benedict.”

  “Who names their kid Benedict?”

  “Plenty of people!”

  I raise my eyebrows with disbelief, which she returns with a glare. “Why are we going over this again? Nothing has changed.”