Chapter 15 #3
Truthfully, I can’t complain. Living with Dad so many years means that I was able to stash away the majority of my earnings.
I should be able to retire from football around the age of thirty-five and not have to work if I don’t want to.
But I always fancied the thought of owning my own business someday.
Just need to work out what that business would be.
I should ask Poppy. She has such a creative mind, I’m sure she’d be great at brainstorming what I’d be good at outside of football.
“So, are you and Poppy at each other’s throats after Sunday night dinner?” Gareth’s deep voice asks as he sidles up next to me.
I frown. “No…We’re fine.” I think? Yesterday morning seemed fine.
Until she asked my advice about that sorry excuse for a shirt, and I had to worry about concealing the bulge that formed inside of my jeans.
Christ, if she really thought she could wear something like that to her new job, I’m seriously concerned about her idea of a professional workplace environment.
Tanner slides up on the other side of me, sandwiching me tightly between him and Gareth. He nudges me in the shoulder. “I think the girls are up to something.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Belle was looking at Poppy kind of funny,” Tanner states, scratching his beard in contemplation. “I can usually tell when her crazy starts to show, and I definitely got a whiff of some crazy.”
“The three of them did spend time together on Friday night,” Camden adds, perching on the other side of Tanner.
“What could they be up to?” I ask, completely confused as I stare at all eight of our feet dangling in a row beside each other.
Tanner shakes his head. “I don’t know. Has Poppy found a date for the wedding yet?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.” It’s not really something I’ve wanted to ask her about.
It’s going to be weird watching her with another guy the way she is now…
all woman. But deep down, I think maybe it’s exactly what I need to get her out of my head.
It’s a miracle we got past the first two slips, so maybe seeing her with another man will be helpful in getting us back to the friend zone. The real friend zone.
“Have you lined up a date?” Camden asks.
“Not yet,” I reply. “I am probably going to call Sidney.”
“The one from our neighbourhood with the huge fake jubblies that you brought to Belle’s charity event a while back?” Tanner asks, making a squeezing gesture over his pecs.
I nod and elbow him for being crass. He’s not wrong, though.
Sidney Carmichael does have massive boobs—something she apparently treated herself to after secondary school.
Regardless, she’s just a friend. We dated casually for a while when we were eighteen, but I had to end it.
Her feelings were much stronger than mine and it became too much.
However, we’ve remained friends, and she’s kind of turned into my go-to date for events.
As a pro footballer, we’re frequently invited to charities, formal galas, and award ceremonies.
Sidney is easy and always available. And I don’t have to worry about her latching on like a wannabe WAG because she knows how I feel.
Tanner tsks. “I think it’s a mistake to bring Big Jubblies, baby bro.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t think Poppy wants to see you with a date any more than you want to see her with a date.”
“I don’t care if she has a date,” I bark defensively.
“Bullshit!” Gareth coughs into his fist.
“I don’t!” I turn and look at him with accusing eyes. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you guys this. Poppy is just a friend. That’s it. I couldn’t give a toss whom she brings to the wedding.”
“Well you acted like a jealous boyfriend Sunday night,” Gareth prods.
I cut him a glare, his words causing a tightness in my shoulders. I wasn’t trying to act jealous. I was trying to protect her. “Teammates are different. They’re…off limits. You guys know why.”
“Prove it,” Tanner dares.
I swerve my head to look at him. “Prove what?”
“Prove that you don’t care. Call Sidney to come with you,” he challenges.
“You’re a moron. I was going to do that anyway.”
“Then there’s no need to wait another day.”
Rolling my eyes, I pull my mobile out of my pocket, find her number, and press CALL. They all watch me as it rings a few times.
“Hello?”
“Hiya, Sidney.”
“Booker Harris! Hiii!” Her voice is loud in the quiet library, so I know my brothers can hear her as well.
I clear my throat. “Listen, I have an…erm…event to go to this Saturday night and was wondering if you are free.”
“Bugger, I would have loved to go, but I’m in Cape Town for the week. I can look into booking an early flight home?”
“No, no. That’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure? It would be no trouble.”
Actually, it would be a lot of trouble. “I’m sure. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, then.” She sounds disappointed. “I’ll give you a ring after I get back. Maybe we can grab a bite and catch up.”
I nod. “Sounds fine. Have fun.”
We say our goodbyes and I exhale.
“Now what?” Camden asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t really want to bring anyone else because they’ll get the wrong idea.”
“What idea is that?” Cam asks.
“That you’re a free man?” Tanner adds, his brows tweaking.
I frown. “I am a free man. Sidney never expects more. Other girls do.”
Gareth’s voice loses all humour when he replies, “And you can’t possibly be a free man because that would mean you’d have to close the door on Poppy.”
I growl and jump off the desk to get some space from my pushy and annoying brothers.
“You guys don’t get it because you don’t understand what friendship with a girl is like.
If I were to be with her, she hops out of that friend box and into a much more complicated box.
Poppy is my best friend and will be forever. End of. I’ll find another bloody date.”
I move past the desk and out the door, ignoring my brothers’ calls to come back and stop being a baby.
Stuff that. I’m tired of them thinking they know what’s best for me all the time.
I’m determined to show Poppy and everyone else that this isn’t happening between her and me.
We’re just best friends, like always. She’ll bring a date and I’ll bring a date. What’s the worst that could happen?
It’s dark by the time I get home from Camden’s. I enter our flat and all is quiet except for some strange noise coming from the loo. Frowning, I walk over and lean closer to the door where I hear shower water running.
Just when I decide that’s all the noise was, a soft moan resonates through the door.
Then the humming begins again. Actually, it’s more of a buzzing.
I press my ear against the door, stunned when I hear the sound of what must be a vibrator because Poppy’s hoarse groans echoing inside the loo can’t be for no reason.
She moans again.
I clutch the doorframe with my hands and drop my chin to my chest. My dick instantly rises inside my jeans as I picture the scene happening in my shower. This is wrong, Booker. This is so wrong.
But fuck me, all I want to do is go in there and help her finish the job. Activate another slip by pressing myself inside of her and fucking her against the shower wall as her soapy breasts slide up and down my chest.
My thoughts are maddening.
I inhale sharply and turn away from the door, storming straight for the balcony. Cool air hits my face as I slide the glass door closed and breathe in the London night air. It would be melodramatic to scream out of sexual frustration, right?
Fuck me! Why do I keep wanting to fuck my best friend? This is bloody torture!
What man could resist someone like her pleasuring herself in the shower? Christ, this is painful.
My mind begins engaging my hormones. Why can’t you fuck your best friend?
Because she wouldn’t be my best friend anymore.
Who cares? She’d be more. She’d be more until she wasn’t.
Until it ended and then she’d want nothing to do with me.
Why does it have to end? Because I’m not right for her.
Poppy deserves love. True love. Like what Hayden and Vi have.
I can’t give that to her. I can barely give that to my family.
So what do you want? I want her to stay.
I want her to be my best friend. I want to trust that she won’t leave again.
A noise snaps me out of my inner warzone. I hear something that sounds like her pocket door closing, so I steel myself to reenter the flat.
Curious, I stride down toward the bathroom door and look inside to see if the coast is clear.
Steam billows out of the white, glossy loo.
I step in and close the door, hoping that maybe taking a leak will help stave off my erection.
When I lift the seat and pull myself out of my pants, I freeze, semi-hard cock in hand as my eyes catch sight of something shiny and silver on the bathroom counter.
Her fucking vibrator.
And now it’s time for a cold bloody shower.
My walk home from work tonight is riddled with thoughts of Booker. The past week and a half have been hell. The wedding is only four days away. I was supposed to be torturing Booker all this time, but all I’ve been doing is torturing myself. I’m running around like a sexually frustrated nutter.
Two nights ago, I was wearing boy shorts while playing PlayStation.
I don’t even like video games! You have the same results if you slide your fingers over all the buttons like a maniac as you do if you actually apply yourself.
They’re stupid and I don’t understand the appeal.
However, the agog expression on Booker’s face was somewhat satisfying, if only he would have bloody acted on it!
Instead, he mumbled something about meeting Cam and Tan for a drink and bolted.