Chapter Nine #2
Don’t look into his eyes. I keep repeating it in my head, but they keep drawing me in; those damning pools of blue have me sinking like the Titanic.
Speak, Poppy! Damn it, speak!
“Or maybe,” I fire back, my heart palpitating beneath my shirt. “I just like watching dumb men self-destruct in real time.”
Wesley’s stupid grin only gets wider. “Then buckle up, beautiful. Because this is one man that’s ready to implode.”
“Stop calling me beautiful, Wesley. You know you don’t have a chance with me. Never have. Never will.”
Except at prom. You had a chance then.
The devilish look in his eyes tells me he knows it too.
“You wound me, Poppy. You make me out to be this dumb idiot, but I can see behind your vicious words. Hate me all you want, but I’ll still be here for you no matter what. It’s just the kind of guy I am.”
“Well, you should stop, especially when I’m nothing but hateful toward you.”
Wesley smirks. “That’s what makes it fun, Poppy. Eventually, I’ll wear you down and grow on you. I’m like a fungus.”
“More like an STD. The ugly, big, fat ones, that ooze pus and make your dick smell like rotting garbage.” I pretend to sniff the air and wave at my nose. “Blech, maybe you should get yourself checked out now? There’s a certain smell coming off you that’s repulsive.”
Completely unaffected, he smiles even bigger, that smug charisma oozing from his pores. “The faith you have in my sex life is flattering. But when was the last time you actually saw me with a girl?”
Have I ever seen him with a girl? Prom… but he spent more time with me that night than Morgan. But since then? Even though it’s been five years, I haven’t heard of him really being with anyone, and that’s terrifying. “I—I—”
“You’re stuttering,” Amber whispers. “Oh my god, you’re flustered.”
“I am not!”
Wesley leans in, taking my silence as a silent win. “And that smell? That’s the smell of a real man’s arousal. You should get used to it. Because I’m always cocked and ready when you’re near me.”
I stare at his lips for two seconds too long, and when I realize he notices, my cheeks heat in embarrassment.
I’ve got to break this curse before it breaks me.
“Like I’d want your cellmate’s sloppy seconds.
Get the fuck away from me.” It’s harsh and a bit mean, but if he gets any closer to me, this alcohol I’ve been drinking is going to get me into a whole heap of trouble.
For two seconds there, I actually wanted him to kiss me.
And the fact that I wasn’t repulsed by the thought scares me.
Wesley looks at his drink, the playfulness dwindling.
Is it bad that I already miss it? Honestly, Amber’s kept me up-to-date on the boys, and Wesley’s been relatively good.
He got into some bad situations a few years ago, but other than that, he’s been squeaky clean. She says he’s working on himself.
Through a sideways glance, I admire his biceps.
Really working on himself.
I never thought I was a muscles kind of girl, but I like them on him.
Amber opens her mouth to break the silence, but someone else has other ideas.
A girl with fiery red hair taps Wesley on the shoulder, too confident for my liking. “Hey,” she yells with a hint of inebriation behind her tone. “I saw you at the bar. You’re fine as hell, and I was wondering if you wanna dance?”
I hate that he’s smiling at her. That he’s even giving her attention at all. My fingers strangle my glass, my jaw tightening as I watch the flirtation unfold like a bad movie.
Of course she’s pretty.
She has to be. That’s just the kind of girl he attracts.
Pretty and petite with curves that are annoyingly perfect. The kind that don’t belong on her slight little frame, or she cheated the system by buying her assets.
Perfect ass.
Perfect body.
Perfect in every way.
She wears her black dress like a second skin.
Every inch of the fabric calculated for tonight.
The hem is just high enough to make men wonder what’s beneath, but still classy enough to be considered one step above hoe.
Her heels give her a good three inches, but she’s still shorter than Wesley, which he loves because he’s smiling and chatting away, not able to tear his eyes off the abnormally copper ringlets that bounce when she laughs.
She knows exactly what she’s doing with every step she takes toward him.
She looks like the type who tilts her head and smiles while saying, “Bless your heart.” That southern princess charm, that shouldn’t be this far west. She licks her cherry red lips, eyes locked on Wesley like she already decided he’s tonight’s entertainment.
It’s bold.
She’s too cocky.
I should be happy because now he can be her problem.
But the way she’s looking at him makes me want to scratch her eyes out for existing. It’s not jealousy. It’s definitely not that.
I’m just irritated.
Pretty girls irritate the hell out of me. Especially ones that carry a smile that screams she knows it too.
Why is she standing so close to him?
Wesley glances at me, hoping for a reaction, but I’d rather stir my drink into oblivion than let him know it’s getting to me.
When I don’t look up, he answers her, “Sure, sweetheart. Let’s go.”
I refuse to look up.
But I see his fingers lace and lock with hers. The way they fit so perfectly together, like somehow kismet has brought them to this night.
When his back is to me, I finally look up, tracking them across the room, watching him pull her into his arms and start provocatively dancing with her right there in front of everyone.
His hand on her hip.
Her hand on his chest, feeling up that perfectly sculpted wall of muscle.
My straw suddenly becomes a weapon as I violently stab at my drink, trying to shake off this sudden wave of jealousy. My poor ice never stood a chance. “He’s such a Neanderthal,” I growl, trying to mask my frustration. “He’ll fuck anything with two legs.”
“Oh, he’s going to fuck that one,” Amber says too loudly. “If for anything else to make Poppy jealous. She could be getting pregnant as we speak.”
My head snaps up, searching for the happy couple on the dance floor.
They’re grinding against each other, lips teasing like they’re gonna kiss.
He pulls at her bottom lip with his finger, and she’s leaning into it, ready to go.
Then they’re kissing. His tongue moves in.
Her tongue moves out. It’s fast and reckless.
Hands dancing over places they shouldn’t.
It’s gross.
It makes my skin crawl.
God, why do I feel so jealous about this?
I can’t take this anymore. I need to remove myself from the situation before it’s too late.
“I’m going to go find the bathroom. If I don’t come back, don’t send out a search party,” I announce, quickly getting up from the table.
My eyes immediately find the exit, but I talk myself out of running and turn down the hall towards the bathrooms. Once inside the safety of the stall, I break down, a tear slipping down my cheek before I can stop it.
“He’s not your boyfriend, you’re not supposed to care,” I remind myself, though my heart is fighting my ribcage like a ferocious tiger ready to pounce.
My instinct is to run out there and tear her hair out, but I don’t. I can’t. I won’t let him see me break. That familiar feeling takes over me. The spinning of my head, my heart racing so fast I can barely keep up with it. I’m on the verge of an anxiety attack, and there’s no way to stop it.
I sink to the ground, taking in two deep breaths as I try to hold in all the feelings I’ve hidden away inside. I shouldn’t be feeling like this, not over him. But I do.
Seeing him kiss her was disturbing, but only because I know what those lips taste like.
What they feel like. How his hands can be so possessive and sweet at the same time.
He’s five years older now. I can’t even imagine what he perfected in the time we’ve been apart.
I purposely stayed away from having any interactions with him, just so I wouldn’t feel anything.
And now he’s back in my life.
Infuriating me.
Confusing me.
Making me want things I shouldn’t.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. Almost as if someone has their hands wrapped around my throat and they’re squeezing.
There’s only one way to stop this, Poppy.
That voice inside my head never leaves. Even when I try to snuff it out with silence.
My fingers tremble as I reach into my purse, pulling out the tin of mints that’s empty except for one.
One mint that’s not a mint at all… it’s salvation.
It hits my tongue with an explosion of euphoria, a tasteless wonderment that can cure all my ailments… even the ones I have no control over.
My eyes slide shut, waiting for the haze to takeover, the fog that will cover me and make me forget this night even existed.
It doesn’t take long. Ten minutes becomes twenty, and by the time it’s fully taken effect, my entire body is humming with uncontrolled desire.
If he can find someone to sleep with tonight, so can I.
It doesn’t take me long. The guy who was ogling me from the bar is now standing outside the bathroom, almost like he’s waiting for me, and this time I don’t pretend not to see him.
I want him to notice me.
“Hey,” I say, swaying a bit until my back hits the wall across from him for support. Crap, I forgot I drank a few drinks before popping the tab. This isn’t good.