Jaxson
There have beentimes in my life that I have not been proud of my actions. There have been times in my life that I have questioned what in the hell I was thinking. But that moment in the snow with Poppy wasn’t one of them.
The rational part of me suggested it should be. The irrational part of me suggested it was perfect and right—and that if I were at all honest, I would own up to the fact that it was a moment we had been barreling toward for a very long time.
Yes, I should have stopped with the kiss. But damn—Poppy’s kisses are addictive as hell. As soon as I had one hit, I knew there was no going back. And then things got difficult, and she agreed to help out—as a friend. I think we both know that wasn’t a friendly gesture, not on her part, not on mine. Not any of it. What I don’t get is, what’s with the wall? What is this invisible force that’s constantly trying to keep us from happening?
I get it, though. A long distance deal would be tough. Plus, this is new. We’ve gone from never speaking to one another to picking up right where we left off and then some. I take the blame for that. Once I noticed she was freezing me out after graduation, I should have stepped up and given her a call—encouraged her to come out for the holidays—especially those that my mother hosted. She missed all of those, and, in turn, missed out on her own family because of me. She wasn’t avoiding my mother. She was avoiding seeing my face at the table.
As far as I can recall, there were three major events that wedged a divide between us. The first and foremost damning would be our mothers. Their constant,incessant, nagging while trying to meld us together since birth had eroded the landscape for anything that could have ever been. They managed to cast a pall on our relationship before it ever had a chance to get started. The second—as ridiculous as it sounds—would be Poppy’s unrequited crush on Miles Frampton. It’s childish in hindsight, but having the hottest girl you know, the one you want to be with more than anyone else, tell you that she has it bad for the center on our mediocre basketball team was a blow that my fifteen-year-old ego couldn’t quite handle. And the third quake that took us down went down right after our senior year culminated. It involved an alcohol-soaked graduation party—one I don’t care to think about.
The Starry Nights Bar and Grill is locked and loaded with people tonight, elbow to elbow, standing room only—not unusual on a Friday night. Hunter says its runoff business from Denver. Mostly college kids looking for the appeal of a small town that’s miles away from their professors.
I belly up to the bar and find a free seat on the end. Hunter comes over with that shit-eating grin on his face because he’s raking it in this evening, and he knows it.
“What’s up, my man?” He slaps me five and pours me a beer without asking. “You do realize you’ve pissed off more than half my clientele.”
I glance around at the girls congregating in front of the live band as it bleeds out a sappy country song.
“It looks as if they’ve recovered.”
“That’s what you think. I’ve had Larissa coming around getting shit-faced, crying in her whiskey over the fact you chose L.A. Barbie over her. Not my words, dude.”
A dull laugh thumps through me. L.A. Barbie. Poppy certainly fits the bill, but she’s more of an Oak Grove beauty—an original at that. I’ve always appreciated the fact she didn’t try too hard, definitely not too big on the war paint. Poppy is more the girl next door. The girl who stole my heart.
“So, where are things with the two of you?” Hunter leans in with an earnestness and subtle inquisition that only a bartender can provide. Or in this case, my good friend going as far back as grade school can provide.
And just like that, he gets every last detail from me. All of it. The practical joke we’re trying to pull over on our mothers, that kiss at the dance, this afternoon in the snow with her hands down my pants.
“Shit.” Hunter looks horrified for me. “How did you leave off?”
“I took her back to her car, and I said thank you.”
“You saidthank you?” He laughs as he picks up a beer bottle and knocks it back as if he needed a drink himself after hearing it. “Dude, you should have at least taken her to dinner tonight. That’s pretty cold.”
Just as I’m about to tell him that I threw out the offer, a familiar face pops up beside me—Conner.
Hunter and I defuse quickly.
“Don’t let me ruin your good time.” He points to my beer, and Hunter is quick to oblige. “Unless you’re laughing at my sister. Then I’m pretty damn glad to break up the party.”
“Nobody is laughing at her.” Hunter holds up his hands, looking guilty as sin.
“I like Poppy.” I look right at him when I say it, and a boiling rage begs to ignite. “You got a problem with that?”
Conner bucks with a silent laugh. “I guess I do.” The seat next to me opens up, and Conner takes it. “Dude, what are you doing with my sister? You don’t talk for years—and I know this because I speak to both of you on a regular basis, and suddenly you’re inseparable. I’m shocked she’s not here tonight. I saw her at the house. She said you took her out snowmobiling.”
That smirk on my face disappears real quick. “She say anything else?” I don’t bother with my next breath. A part of me needs to hear that she’s okay.
He stares out at the crowd a moment, but I know Conner well enough to realize he’s stalling. “I asked her what this was about, and she said she likes you. That she’s always liked you.”
She likes me. She also likes ice cream and puppies so that makes things clear as mud. I know that she’s bent on keeping our arrangement from her brother so that answer doesn’t surprise me.
Hunter pushes a beer toward Conner. “Where is she? She coming down tonight?”
“I don’t think so.” Conner nods a quick thanks for the drink. “She’s done for the day—PJs on, the whole nine yards. She said she might be catching a cold. She was kind of down. She’s probably missing home or something.”
Hunter glances my way like I might be responsible for the fact Poppy is feeling down. And I’m pretty sure I am.
