Chapter 7 Terrible Idea #2
After grabbing a drink and finding a seat to chill out, I can’t help but follow the movements of one person in particular.
Jackson sits beside me. “Fuck man, you’ve got it bad. You do know you haven’t taken your eyes off Poppy once tonight. What’s the deal?”
“Fresh meat, that’s all.” He’s my best friend, but he’s still Cici’s brother, so he might not be excited to hear I succeeded in banging her bridesmaid during the reception.
“You sure about that? I’ve never seen you so… attentive.”
“Speaking of, shouldn’t you be attending to your wife?”
“Fuck, I love hearing that.”
“Which part? Wife or attending to her?”
“Both, but the fact that she’s officially mine… damn. Nothing compares.” He’s staring at Mia with stars in his eyes while she shakes it on the dance floor with Walker.
“I’m happy for you. Cheers to making a man out of yourself.” I hold my drink up.
He meets it. “Thanks. When will you do the same? You seem pretty interested in that Poppy chick.”
“In one thing and one thing only. The word relationship isn’t in my vocabulary. You know that.”
“You need to let the past go. It’s been years, and not all women are cheaters.”
“Try telling that to my new client. They are if given the opportunity.” I realized what I said a second too late. “Shit, I’m sorry. That’s not true. You’re right, not all women are. It’s just hard to believe when not only did it happen to me, but it’s the main reason I’m employed.”
“Fair, but don’t you want a family at some point?”
“Fuck no. I have no desire to screw up any more children—I wasn’t meant to be a father.” It’s the most accurate statement I’ve made the whole conversation.
“Dude. Your upbringing has no bearing on your future children. If anything, it’ll make you a better parent. Stop holding back just because you’re afraid.”
“What are you—my fucking therapist?”
He chuckles. “No, but maybe you need one. There’s more to life than one-night stands.”
“Says the guy who’s been married for a few hours to the girl who broke him of the habit. Don’t preach to the choir unless you have something worthwhile. And if it’ll put your mind at ease, I’m happy with one-night stands. They leave time for my career, which is more important than any woman.”
“You’ve already made partner, so that’s a piss-poor excuse. And if work’s your only focus, doesn’t it look better to some of these clients to be in a solid relationship?”
I shake my head, exasperated and ready to be done with the conversation. “Man, you’re relentless. Go take your wife to bed and consummate your marriage. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jackson gets to his feet and grips my shoulder. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone. But at least be open to the possibility.”
“Doubtful—unless you come to me in the morning and tell me that married sex is like nothing you’ve had before… then I’ll consider it.”
“I’m about to find out,” he says, eyeing his woman with longing. “Night, man.”
“Enjoy.”
Damn. Your friends start settling down, and suddenly, they think everyone needs to.
Fuck that shit. And on that note, rather than torture myself anymore by watching Poppy slip through my fingers, I decide it’s time to leave, resigned to spend the night alone.
The last thing I want is to witness her and her friend Matt go inside the room together.
Motherfucker. I shouldn’t give a shit, so why do I?
The following morning, I’m anxious to join the wedding party for breakfast after tossing and turning all night while my imagination ran wild about what could be happening next door.
To my dismay, I miss saying goodbye to Poppy, along with the chance to rile her up some more, since she’s already gone by the time I arrive.
This is discovered by inquiring where she is, only to hear about their early flight back. Mistake number one: asking about her.
“Why? Did you do something? I swear I’ll hurt you if you fucked with her.” Cici scowls at me without waiting for an answer. At the same time, Jackson’s subtle glance and muffled chuckle add to my pissy mood.
“I didn’t do shit. She’s in the room next to me, so I just wondered why she wasn’t here. I figured her and that guy were still getting it on.” I shrug as if it doesn’t matter, when the thought alone has me seeing red.
“Matt? Seriously? Did you hear them doing it?” She seems genuinely shocked, and my blood boils that she even thinks it’s possible.
“No. But two single people sharing a room and not fucking? Highly unlikely.” I’m losing my mind, and it’s my own damn fault. Why am I having this conversation again? Oh right, because I asked where Poppy was.
She rolls her eyes. “Says the manwhore of the century. Contrary to your beliefs, not every man has a one-track mind. Matt and Poppy are just friends. Besides, she was all about Jordan last night. That was more likely.”
“So she did get with someone?” I can’t help but ask the question—mistake number two.
Cici eyes me suspiciously. “Why do you care?”
Jackson isn’t hiding the humor rolling off him at this point, and Eli is beside Cici, shaking his head, waiting for the bomb to drop, I’m sure. Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“I don’t. I’m only interested in finding out who got laid by whom. You’re familiar with the term gossip. Isn’t that what people do the day after a wedding?” I completely sold that.
“Well, I’m not gossiping about one of my best friends. And if any of you do, you’re in trouble.” She addresses the others around the table, then smirks at me. “So good luck with your gossip sesh.”
“Testy, testy. What does it matter? She doesn’t even live here, she won’t see us again.”
“She’s one of my best friends, dumbass. She’s coming to visit after the baby’s born.”
Well, well, well.
That pleasant surprise keeps my mind occupied the rest of the day—all the way into Monday, when work takes over, giving me a reprieve from thoughts of Poppy until Warren wakes the sleeping giant.
“So did you bang any hot chicks at the reception this weekend?” he asks while we’re taking a short break to eat. It’s not uncommon for working lunches more days than not.
Warren and I have a candid approach about our sexual conquests and aren’t shy about bragging who and when we fuck. This time, however, I’m reluctant. Which is fucking weird. It was nothing special—at least that’s what I’ve been trying to convince myself.
“Most of the women came with a date. It was slim pickings.” Hopefully, he’ll drop it.
“There had to be a few to choose from. How can you go to a wedding and not get your dick wet? Please tell me you didn’t end up jerking yourself off?”
Can’t do that, since that’s precisely what I did after ending the night solo. So rather than spouting bullshit, I finally give in and go with the truth, starting with the plane, to fucking her during the reception, to wishing for round two.
“Dude. That doesn’t sound like you. Why didn’t you bang some other chick instead of calling it a night? Sounds like she might’ve done the same.”
“She didn’t,” I state more forcefully than I should, willing myself to believe it.
“Oh fuck, does that piss you off? You catch feelings or some shit?” He laughs.
“Fuck no. I’d just like to assume I rocked her world enough that she didn’t need to fuck anyone after.” It’s a half-truth. “And yeah, it was that good that I wasn’t in the mood for sloppy seconds after I’d already had dessert.”
“Hmmm. So you’d be into banging her again? That’s rare for you.”
“She was rare. It’s not every day a mousy redhead turns into a siren in the sack.”
“Well, too bad you didn’t take advantage of round two before she left. But now that I know you have a thing for redheads, I’ll be sure to tag you in next time I find one.”
Do I have a thing for redheads, or is it one in particular?
“She’s coming back in a few weeks to visit her friend.” Something I’m once again thinking about.
“Perfect. You can tag me in, then.”
Fuck. I should’ve anticipated this, considering that’s our typical strategy. While the suggestion right before we climaxed turned me the fuck on, the reality of it doesn’t excite me as much.
“Not sure this one fits the mold. I call her Mouse for a reason. She’s skittish in the bedroom. Responsive as hell but doesn’t have a forward bone in her body when it comes down to it.”
“She just doesn’t know what she’s missing. That’s the fun part—educating her. Come on, man. You’d be doing her a favor.”
I laugh at the irony of his comment. “Funny. I already told her I did her a favor by fucking her, and it didn’t go over well. I don’t think that approach will work.”
“Dude, you’re killing me here. You at least have to give it a try.
Take her out, and I’ll magically show up.
Once she has a taste, I guaran-fuckin’-tee she’ll be in.
What woman can resist two sets of mouths and hands making her feel good?
Not a single one so far, and you know it. ” He points his finger at me.
Fuck. He’s right, but that’s not the problem—it’s whether I’m willing to share.
Luckily, I’m forced to forget about the matter as the next few weeks fly by with work keeping me too busy to ruminate over my sudden greediness. The girl who rocked my world is on the back burner for now.