“She’s not even that pretty.”
I glare at the words. Kendall, the bitch.
The story disappears, and in its place, Brookes’ contact flashes on the screen. And I contemplate not answering it. But, he’s my boss. So, with a quick breath, I slide to answer with a forced smile.
“Hey, Brookes.”
“You read the story, huh?”
“Of course I did,” I say. “I thought that was why you sent it to me.”
“Rule number one,” he says tersely. “Never read anything printed outside of Sports News Network or Hole in One dot com. Everything else is just trash concealed as journalism.”
“Okay.”
“What are you doing?”
I scan my room, taking in the mess I’ve made while packing. “Just getting my things together… to bring over to your place.”
“I can have it picked up by a moving company.”
“You overestimate me.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’ll be lucky to fill two boxes, a suitcase, and an overnight bag.”
“Poppy!”
I suck in a gasp, turning to the bedroom door. I locked it out of habit thank God, because Simon sounds… pissed. And I have a feeling I know why.
A fist pounds on the door, followed by a booming, “Poppy! Open up!”
“Poppy?” Brookes’ voice breaks through the thunder of my own pulse in my ears. “What’s going on?”
I collect myself enough to try and sound blasé when, in fact, I’m anything but. “Oh, it’s noth?—”
“Poppy, open the fucking door!”
“Poppy, is that your ex?” Brookes asks, his voice low and steely.
“Can I call you back?”
“No, you cannot call methe fuckback,” Brookes guffaws. “What the hell is going on?”
“Just—hang on.” I hop up and, pressing my phone to my chest, I unlock the door and pull it open, glaring at Simon standing there, his face all red and splotchy, anger practically radiating from him.
“What is it?” I ask, as calmly as possible.
“What the fuck is this?” He shoves his phone right up in my face, and I’m forced to take a step back. Sure enough, there, illuminated in front of me is yet another cringy gossip social media post, this one showing an actual photo of me—my Vista Palms staff ID photo, thanks a lot, Kendall—and a photo of Brookes, titled:Love on the Fairway.
“Well?” Simon presses impatiently, waving the phone in my face. “Is it true?”
“Yes…” I say with a shrug, hoping if I come across nonchalant and not at all as terrified as I am, he’ll give up. But Simon has a temper. He always has. He’s never hit me or anything, but he’s mean when he’s pissed.
“You’re dating this fucking guy?” He snorts a humorless laugh, his narrow-eyed glower looking me up and down, and I can practically see the meanness brewing in him.
“Yes.” I shrug again, because honestly, what more does he want. “In fact, I’m in the middle of packing to go over to his place right now, so if you don’t mind—” I try to close the door, but Simon slaps his hand again it, and I startle from the ferocity of the sound.
“Poppy!” Brookes’ muffled voice comes from the phone buried against my boobs, and Simon’s gaze flits to the device.
“That’s him?”
