“We’ll Venmo you our share,” Leo says. We all grab our phones and send Travis the money for our meals.
“I’d better get going,” Travis says. “I’ve got an essay due tomorrow.”
He slides out of the booth, and we tell him bye. Leo and Blake finish their drinks, then say they need to head out too.
“Yeah, I need to go home soon, too. Early class in the morning,” Poppy says.
When we all slide out of the booth, Leo and Blake leave the restaurant. I tell Poppy I’ll just be a sec while I run to the restroom.
When I walk back out into the main area of the diner, I spot her standing at the front entrance talking to some guy. I can tell right away that he’s interested in her. The way his gaze slides from her face to her chest is a dead giveaway.
Honestly, he looks more her type than I do. He’s got glasses and a clean haircut, and he’s wearing a button-up flannel and jeans. I bet this guy has never gotten lower than an A- in any class he’s taken.
Jealousy flares up inside of me. Poppy and I are just friends who are hooking up and pretending to be a couple, nothing more. I don’t have any claim on her. If a guy wants to flirt with her and chat her up, he can.
She doesn’t like this guy, though. I can tell.
Her smile is tight. I can see how forced it is, even though I’m standing a dozen feet away. She crosses her arms over her chest and hunches her shoulders slightly. Then she takes a step back, clearly wanting to create some space from him.
But this dude is clueless. He steps toward her, still talking and smiling.
Or maybe he knows he’s making her uncomfortable and doesn’t care.
Protectiveness surges through me. I walk over to the two of them and slide my arm around her waist, pulling her against me.
I gently take her chin in my hand and tilt her face up to me. Then I kiss her. Hard.
When we break apart, I smile at her. “Hey, honey.”
“H-hey,” she says, her voice breathy.
I turn to the guy. “Sorry, what was your name?”
He clears his throat. “Nolan. I’ll, um, go.”
He walks into the lobby of the diner, while I lead Poppy by the hand outside, into the cool, crisp autumn evening.
“That was a little possessive of you,” she says, her tone amused.
“You’re my girlfriend. Fake girlfriend,” I say when I catch myself. “I reacted how any guy would have if he saw some dude trying to flirt with his girl.”
“It was pretty hot,” she says after a second.
I turn to her. “You liked it?”
“Yeah. That guy was being a little pushy, and I didn’t know how to leave politely.”
“You don’t owe a pushy jackass politeness, Poppy.”
“I know. It’s just that sometimes, as a woman, we have to be careful how we reject a guy. You don’t know how he’s going to react. If he’ll be cool and understand, or if he’ll get mad and do something bad…”
I stop walking and look at her, my body tense at what she’s said. I feel like a jerk. Of course it’s not that simple. Of course she can’t just walk away. Some guys are pieces of shit and might get physical with a woman when they get turned down.
I feel sick just thinking about it.
“Has that happened to you before?” I ask, making sure my tone is soft and steady so I don’t sound as angry as I feel.
“Yeah, once. Thankfully, nothing physical happened,” she says in a quiet voice. “The guy just called me a stuck-up bitch when I wouldn’t give him my number, then walked off.”
