This was officially the weirdest day of Poppy’s life. Maybe she was hallucinating? “Um.”
“Here.” Rosaline tossed Poppy her top before bending to pick Poppy’s beer-soaked sweatshirt up off the floor. “Put that on and let’s go.” She unlocked the stall door. “I don’t know about you, but I still want those nachos.”
Chapter Eight
daniLA@danianne • 5h
so which oomfs want to teach me about football because this game makes no sense??????
Victoria@pdxprincess • 3h
so you’re telling me that not only is cash curran the goat, he’s also the master of turning delulu into trululu? hats off my king??
NFL Updates@unofficialnflupdates • 3h
The @portlandpathfinders and @nfl official accounts are now following @lyricadair.
Lyric Adair Updates@lyricadairupdatesunofficial • 3h
Lyric Adair’s publicist @rosalinesinclair is now following @cashcurran.
Portland Pathfinders@portlandpathfinders • 2h
Another day, another win for the Pathfinders!!??#ATLvsPDX #PathfindersNation
Maya Ana@mayaana • 2h
This has got to be the most obvious example of a PR relationship I’ve seen in my life.
Ava@avababy • 1h
My friend is working at xport tonight and Lyric Adair is there with Cash Curran and a bunch of other Pathfinders players. They’re all over each other, apparently
They didn’t talk about it.
Not in the suite and not after the game when they slipped out with Lyric to wait for Cash outside the locker room. Poppy would’ve thought the whole thing was a fever dream, a delusion cooked up by all the cortisol floating around inside her brain, except she still had Rosaline’s shacket and Rosaline’s words were imprinted in her memory.
Because I said so. Because Itoldyou so. And you’re not going to make me wrong, are you, Poppy?
Today might’ve been a shit show, and she might’ve spent a decent portion of it doubting herself and driving herself batty by reading into every word and glance of Rosaline’s, but like Rosaline had said, Poppy cared too much to fuck this up. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been that gentle with her or touched her with half as much care as Rosaline had inside that bathroom stall.
Enough was enough. The moment had been charged, no doubt, Poppy had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to ruin the progress she’d made with Rosaline by mistaking kindness for interest or seeing signs of a connection where there had been... civility.
It was getting late. She had spent the better part of the last two hours on X, trying to keep her finger on the pulse of what peoplewere saying about today’s full-throttle, real-life hard launch of Cash and Lyric’s relationship. Not easy to do considering everyone and their brother was talking about it. Cash and Lyric were trending on every platform, news site, and search engine, Lyric’s appearance at the game having generated maximum exposure, captivating her followers, Cash’s fans, and sports enthusiasts alike. Poppy was struggling to keep up with it all, her eyes crossing.
It was time to call it a night.
The doorbell rang and she started, laptop sliding off her bent knees and into her lap. She set it on the coffee table and stood, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn that made her jaw pop. The doorbell rang again, making her sigh. “Coming!”
She swore, if Cash forgot his house key again, she was going to suggest he start tying a spare to his shoelaces because, honestly, this would make it the third time in as many weeks, which was a little—
Ridiculous.
Rosaline, not Cash, stood on the front porch holding a Sizzle Pie pizza box in one hand, the other poised to ring the bell for a third time.
She rubbed her tired eyes and—nope, she wasn’t seeing things. Rosaline was actually standing there, still wearing that curve-hugging bodysuit tucked into her black leather pants, an amused smile creeping across her face.
“What are you doing here?”
