“You can practice with me.”
“And the kissing part of it all?”
“That’ll be the first order of business,” I say. “We will have to kiss, eventually. I know that. And you deserve to have a good one.”
Brooke was clear that our wedding had to be publicized. This is about fixing my reputation after all, and she made sure to emphasize that fact in several text messages scolding me for not sticking to the plan.
I’ve left them all unanswered. At least this way, I can ensure that Poppy’s first kiss isn’t a rushed and sweaty one in front of thousands of people.
Even I know that a first kiss is important. I may not believe in relationships, in letting yourself get attached to someone, but the rush when your lips meet theirs, the excitementand disbelief that it’s happening… it’s a once in a lifetime experience.
“We might not have another opportunity topracticeuntil the wedding.”
“We’ll have plenty of opportunities,” I counter.
Her eyes flare, something sparking behind her dark irises.
“It may not give you butterflies. It may have to be with your fake fiancé. But mark my words, Poppy, I’ll be damned if you don’t have a first kiss to remember.”
Her gaze lingers on mine for a moment, making every inch of skin tingle where it lands. It’s unnerving that her eyes have the power to make me feel like this.
I get up from the couch to get rid of my empty beer bottle, but Poppy’s gaze is still on me, heating the back of my neck as I stride into the kitchen.
“So, when are you thinking?” She asks, and I don’t miss the shaky hint of nerves behind her question.
I rinse the bottle out, swishing the water before dumping it in the sink. Setting it down with a clink, I turn around and lean against the counter, crossing my arms.
My mouth slides into a grin. “Oh, no. You can’t know when it’s going to happen.”
Even from here, I can see the subtle pink shade starting to creep up her neck. I can’t decipher the feeling that flickers to life in my gut.
We’ve only agreed to practice dating, but I want to flirt with her like this is real.
“That’s part of the excitement.”
Poppy swallows thickly but doesn’t say anything. I clear my throat and move the subject along before I’ve wandered too far into dangerous territory. This is fake for a reason. Ihave the scandal to sort out, a World Cup to win, and any feelings would be a dangerous distraction.
The moment is interrupted by my phone ringing, and when I look at it, Brooke’s name is lighting up my screen. I hold it up to show Poppy before answering.
“What’s up, Brooke?” I answer, and without saying hello, she launches into the reason for her call. Brooke doesn’t beat around the bush, it’s one thing I like about her.
“You saw the article,” she says it as a statement, not as a question, and my heartbeat rises into my throat.
“No.”
“No, that’s right. You didn’t, because you haven’t answered any of my texts.”
Walked right into that one.
“What’s the article, Brooke?” I ask, even though she’s already started telling me before I can finish my sentence.
“It was just released, about your win today and the events after,” Brooke explains. My moment with Poppy, she means. “Jason called. Chase isn’t happy.”
Shit.
“What did he say?” I’m not fully understanding why he wouldn’t be happy about this. This was orchestrated for a reason; it was planned carefully. Sure, I went a bit rogue, but there’s no doubt Poppy and I looked like a couple in love.
“It’s not good. They obviously want to sponsor you, they believe in you. But they’re under a lot of pressure right now, and they got the impression you were parading another one of your floozies around. The plan backfired.”
