Chapter Nineteen
Amber
Eddie asked me out on a double date tonight, one that I’m probably going to regret for the rest of my life.
Poor Poppy is sitting across from me like she’s been sentenced to death by conversation.
Her eyes flick from her drink to Wesley, who’s trying so hard to be charming it’s almost painful.
The guy has it bad. The way he looks at her reminds me of how Eddie looks at me, with utter devotion in his eyes, and like she hung the damn moon.
When I asked her to come with me, I was under the impression that Eddie was bringing Rich, but apparently, when Wesley found out Poppy was coming, he pulled some alpha male shit, benched Rich, and showed up in his place, volunteering for psychological warfare willingly like an idiot.
She’s never going to give him a chance. Hell would have to become an iceberg before that shit ever happened.
Eddie hands me a drink from the bar, then slides another in front of Poppy, who takes one look at it, mutters a half-hearted thanks, and downs it like it’s her final shot before a firing squad.
“Damn, I’m gonna need another,” she announces, slamming the glass down.
“I’ll get it for you!” Wesley jumps from the booth so fast he nearly trips on the way out. “Wait right here!” He rushes off like a golden retriever trying to win a medal in fetch.
Poppy watches him go; disgust etched on her face. “God, I thought he’d never leave.” She turns her death glare on me. “You owe me for this one, Amber, like really owe me.”
“I’m sorry!” I argue, holding up my hands. “Eddie told me he was bringing Rich!”
Eddie laughs. “Like Wesley would let that happen. Why don’t you give the guy a chance, Poppy? You two look good together.”
Her glare sharpens into something deadly.
“Why in the hell would I give a guy like him a chance for anything with me? In six months, I’ll be at Stanford working on my doctorate.
Someone like Wesley would only hold me back.
Could you imagine what my father would think?
Me, his golden child, dating a two-time thug? ”
“He’s not a thug, Poppy. Has he made mistakes? Sure, we all have, but that doesn’t make him a bad person.”
“His record says otherwise, Eddie.”
“Damn, I’d hate to hear what you think about me and Rich.”
She shrugs. “Rich is tolerable. Mostly because he doesn’t speak.”
“Poppy!” I hiss. “Why are you being such a bitch right now?”
Her eyes snap to Eddie. “Sorry, Amber. I guess I just don’t trust him. Not after everything he’s done to you.”
Eddie freezes beside me, and something flickers in his eyes… fear… could that even be guilt?
“Eddie?”
He downs the rest of his beer in one long gulp and jumps up like his seat caught fire. “I’m gonna check on Wesley.”
I watch him weave through the crowd toward the bar, and my stomach twists.
“Alright, bitch,” I snap, turning back to Poppy. “What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”
Poppy leans back in her seat, arms folded, looking more tired than angry now. “I’m not getting in the middle of this already imploding circus of a relationship. If you can’t see how wrong he is for you, that’s your problem.”
“What the hell has Eddie done to you?”
“Nothing. And thank God for that. But I see what he’s doing to you. He’s a liar and a cheater, Amber. You should wash your hands of him before it’s too late.”
“I love him, Poppy. You’re supposed to be my maid of honor, not my executioner. Besides, I’m just as guilty of cheating as he is.”
She laughs, mocking me just a tad with her eye roll. “I hate how you try to justify his infidelity by comparing it to your own. You fucked another guy. So what? You did it because even your subconscious knows how wrong Eddie is for you.”
“Eddie’s not wrong for me, Poppy. I’ve never felt this way about anybody before.”
“It’s because you don’t give yourself a chance to move on. Besides the Australian hottie, he’s the only guy you’ve ever been with, and you’ve told yourself that this is the kind of relationship you deserve. It’s not, Amber. You’re above this. Above him.”
Eddie and Wesley make their way back over to the booth before I have a chance to defend my relationship more. Maybe having the Kiplinger sisters in my wedding isn’t such a great idea after all?
Wesley and Eddie return to the booth, Eddie settling beside me while Wesley proudly places a drink in front of Poppy like he’s just presented her with a trophy.
“Here you go, beautiful,” he beams.
Poppy eyes the drink, then him. “Thanks,” she mutters. “How much do I owe you?”
Wesley laughs like she’s just told a joke. “Come on now, what kind of guy do you take me for? Your drinks are always on me.”
Poppy smirks, picking up the glass. “That can be arranged.” Her grip tightens on the cup like she’s mentally debating whether to throw it in his face or sip it.
Wesley doesn’t even flinch. “If you want to see me with my shirt off, all you have to do is ask, Poppy.” He unbuttons the two top buttons of his shirt, showing off his sculpted chest.
She audibly gulps, then cocks her head, almost like she’s trying to pull herself together. “You’re delusional.”
He leans in just enough to make her uncomfortable. “Maybe. But I’m also very determined. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”
“I was checking to see if your ankle monitor was still on.”
“Touché,” he says, grinning. “Still, I like a woman who keeps tabs on me. Feels like foreplay.”
She groans. “You are so gross.”
“And yet, here you are sitting next to me, accepting my drink, and engaging in heated conversation.”
“Actually, if I remember correctly, you tied up my date like some roid-rage psycho and forced your presence on me. That’s called stalking, Wesley. But a guy like you probably already knew that.”
Wesley shrugs, still smiling. “Call it what you want. All I’m saying is that if throwing a drink in my face is what gets us our first physical contact, I’m all for it.”
She leans closer, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across her face. “Careful, Wesley. I’ve got excellent aim and no hesitation. You wouldn’t be my first.”
“That’s okay,” he shoots back. “I’d be honored to be your last.”
Poppy blinks like she can’t believe the audacity. “You’re not charming, you know that, right? You're a walking red flag with a soft jawline and the survival instincts of a moth.”
“Still here though. Flying straight toward the flame.”
“Good. I’ve got bug spray in my purse.”
Eddie lets out a low whistle, clearly trying not to laugh, while I hide my smile behind my drink.
Poppy takes a long sip, her face twitching in frustration. Wesley just sits there relaxed, as if every one of her insults is a love letter written in sarcasm.
“I don’t get it,” she mutters under her breath, more to herself than anyone. “How do you keep bouncing back? I’m verbally curb-stomping you and you act like I’m reading you bedtime poetry.”
He shrugs; eyes locked on her, her threats nothing more than tiny little punches to him. “Because underneath all that venom, I think there’s a part of you that actually likes that I don’t scare easy. You don’t really want a guy who backs off.”
She stares at him, visibly trying not to react.
“Or maybe,” she says coolly, “I just like watching dumb men self-destruct in real time.”
Wesley’s grin only widens. “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.”
“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.” She sniffs the air, then waves her hand in front of her nose. “Blech, maybe you should get yourself checked out now? There’s a certain smell coming off you that’s repulsive.”
Unfazed, his grin widens even more. “The faith you have in my sex life is flattering. But when was the last time you actually saw me with a girl?”
Poppy’s face flares red. “I—I—”
“You’re stuttering,” I whisper. “Oh my god, you’re flustered.”
“I am not!”
But it’s too late. She’s unraveling and Wesley is loving every damn minute of it.
Before she can think of another witty comeback, he leans in, lips dangerously close to her ear, but his voice still loud enough for everyone to hear over the music.
“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. ”
Her blush deepens, and it’s kind of adorable. “Like I’d want your cellmate’s sloppy seconds. Get the fuck away from me.” She moves to the other side of the booth, putting enough distance between them to let her breathe.
The look that flickers across Wesley’s face guts me.
its pure dejection, and that playful smile falters for just a second, that practiced, cool exterior slipping away as shame washes over him.
It's a quiet kind of pain, the kind that doesn't scream, but sinks deep into your bones. For all the crap Poppy throws at him, I know he’s been trying. Ever since that last arrest a couple years ago, he’s kept his head down, worked crap jobs, stayed clean, and stayed out of trouble.
And for what? So she can continue to berate him for a mistake he wishes he could make right?
I open my mouth to say something, but before I get the chance, a flash of red appears at his side.
She’s stunning. The kind of stunning that knocks the air out of the room and doesn’t give it back.