replying to @ evanbuckleystan98
praying mother and father keep us fed??
“I’m just saying. I don’t kiss my friends on the mouth, and I sure as hell don’t have sex with them in dressing rooms.”
“Dressingroom, singular.” She glared weakly at Cash from across the back seat of the limo en route to the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, where Lyric had been getting red-carpet ready withVogue. “And for the record, Rosaline and I don’t kiss on the mouth, either.”
He stared blankly at her. “You don’t kiss.”
Poppy wasn’t sure why, but something about the way Cash said it rubbed her the wrong way, putting her on edge. “I told you. What we’re doing is casual and kissing is... kissing isn’t. Kissing is personal.”
“And sex isn’t?” Cash made an obvious effort to collect himself, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “You can’t seriously tell me you’re okay with this. Poppy, I know you and I know you like her more than you’re letting on.”
She shrugged. “I’ll get over it.”
“It” being the ever-growing, decidedlynotshrinking crush shewas harboring for Rosaline that her four days in Los Angeles had done nothing to squash.
“You’re going to get over it,” Cash spoke slowly, “by continuing to fuck her?”
She was done talking about this. Done thinking about it too. “Thank you for your concern, but I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to it.”
“Have you thought about talking to Rosaline? Maybe you’re not the only one who—”
“Nope.” Poppy shook her head, hair she’d spent too long trying to curl tickling her bare shoulders. “She was very clear about what she wanted.”
The limo pulled to a stop in front of the back entrance of the hotel.
“What about what you want, Poppy?”
“Please,pleasedon’t say anything in front of Rosaline,” she begged. “No mentioning what I told you about the dressing room or making pointed comments about kissing or innuendos or—”
“I get to make one innuendo.” He stared at her with narrowed eyes over steepled fingers. “One.”
“We’re not haggling.”
“Two innuendos.”
She glared. “IlikeRosaline, okay? And maybe you think what I’m doing is stupid, and maybe you’re right. Maybe this is all going to come back and bite me in the ass, but for tonight, I’m just asking you to be cool, okay? Be cool and don’t say anything that’s going to send her running for the hills.”
“Okay.” He shrugged and she was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he added, “Threeinnuendos.” He grinned when shescoffed and threw up her hands. “Hey, Iamyour boss, remember? Technically, I call the shots.”
At that moment, the back door opened and in slipped Lyric, radiant in her yellow, off-the-shoulder dress with its full tulle skirt. Someone, presumably security, shut the door behind her, leaving it slightly ajar.
Cash’s face lit up like he was a kid on Christmas morning and his girlfriend was a pretty wrapped present waiting for him under the tree. “I am one lucky son of a bitch,” he said, sounding awed.
Lyric laughed. “Better not let your mother hear that.” She greeted him with a kiss and immediately started in on fixing his shirt to her liking, undoing the top button and smoothing down the collar. “You dress up nice.” As if remembering they weren’t the only two people in the limo, the only two people on the planet, she turned, spotted Poppy, and threw her a blinding smile. “Poppy! You look beautiful. That dress?” Lyric fanned her face.
Poppy tucked her hair behind her ear. “Please, look who’s talking. Are you excited for tonight?”
Lyric blew out a breath and laughed softly, waffling her head from side to side. “It’s been a hot second since I performed so—”
Once more, the door opened, stealing Poppy’s attention. Rosaline slipped into the back seat, shutting the door fully behind her, breathtaking in a black two-piece, single-breasted suit tailored to perfection. The neckline plunged, dipping nearly to her belly button revealing a deep strip of suntanned skin, shimmering delicately from whatever body lotion she’d chosen to wear this evening. Maybe it was the heels, or the cut of the pants, but even though Rosaline wasn’t tall, her legs looked miles long.
The lengths Poppy would go to have those legs wrapped around her head were, quite frankly, boundless.
“Evening, Curran,” she greeted absently, eyes focused on her phone, fingers swiping furiously at the screen. “Glad you made it to town safely.”
She slipped her phone into her clutch and raised her head, gaze sweeping Poppy up and down, eyes lingering on the square neckline of her lilac-colored column dress. Her throat worked on a swallow, and she met Poppy’s eyes, her own lidded, looking like she wanted to toss Cash and Lyric out of the car and drag Poppy into her lap. Like she wanted to eat her.
