Fortunately, Poppy doesn’t blink. “Well, Marci is the taller one with black hair. Debbie has the massive boobs with brown hair.”
“Good to know, but it still doesn’t help. They were both in bed when I woke up this morning.”
“Nice.” She sticks her fist out, and my head falls back with a loud guffaw as I extend my closed fist to meet hers.
“To be fair, it’s possible I didn’t hook up with either. I don’t even remember going back to their place.”
“It happens.” She looks at her phone, then gathers the trash. “I hate to eat and run, but if I don’t catch the next train, I’ll be late.”
But I’m not ready for this to be over because this entire time, none of the shit that usually plays on a loop in my head has made an appearance. Not my mom or my dad, and the constant nagging feelings of guilt and disappointment. Not my resentment toward my brother. Even the fucking nightmare hasn’t circled my mind, and it usually takes me days and copious amounts of alcohol and drugs to get those fucked up memories out of my head. Then sleep inevitably wins, and the cycle begins again.
Somehow, every time she’s near, she’s kept the demons away, and with it, the overwhelming and conflicting emotions that I struggle to keep contained. Whatever voodoo she’s weaving, I need more of it. It’s not the numb I’ve chased for years. It’sbetter.
I stand up, taking the trash from her and throwing it in the bin next to us. “I could give you a lift.”
Her eyes narrow, a hand gripping her side as her hip juts out with sass. “You can’t remember getting to their apartment, but youdrove?”
“Calm down, Halfpint. I meant you could catch a ride with me. As in a taxi. Or I could call a car.”
“Oh. Right.” She nods, looking a bit embarrassed. “Well, I need to be across town.”
“West side, right? Same school Casey goes to? Ballet school, I mean?”
“That’s the one.”
I’m curious about why she doesn’t go to the school near her apartment, but it doesn’t matter. “I got you. Come on.” I jerk my head toward the door and lead her out. With my fingers tucked between my lips and my other hand raised, I signal an empty cab passing by.
I open the door, gesturing for her to get in first. I slide in behind her and rattle off the address. We don’t talk on the drive there, but unlike the walk to the café, it’s not awkward. In a few minutes, the car is in front of the building. She reaches for the handle, ready to exit, when I stop her. “Need a lift when you’re done here?”
For a moment, I think she considers it, then shakes her head. “Thanks, but I’ll be good on the subway. Thanks for breakfast.”
“Anytime, Halfpint.” I wink as she exits. “Don’t move just yet,” I tell the driver, opening my door and climbing out of the vehicle. “I’ll be right back.”
I look down the street and spot who I’m looking for. Not waiting for the light, I run across the street and hit the glass of the black SUV. The window rolls down, and annoyed eyes glare at me. “What the fuck, Jagger?” Will grumbles.
“Open the door.” He does, and I hop inside. “I need you to tell me everything you know about Poppy.”
Poppy
Walking into the studio, I barely acknowledge the receptionist. Muscle memory leads me toward the changing room. My mind is a mess.
Despite being my friend’s brother, I’d never seen Jagger before a few days ago. How is it, now, he’s suddenly everywhere? He was in my apartment complex! He was on my floor, coming out of my neighbors’ apartment. It’s beyond bizarre and needs to stop because the way I really felt seeing him come out of that apartment…
Every damn time I’m around that man, I feel…off-kilter. It pisses me off because there’s no reason for him to affect me like he does. Sure, I’m attracted to him. He is hot as sin. No woman breathing could look at him without needing new panties. But he’s not the only attractive man I know. I’m surrounded by them. Toned dancers, the men at the club, friends of Casey’s I’ve met. There’s no shortage.
But not once have any of them left me feeling disoriented and unsettled until now. It’s not just attraction. It’s gravity. I don’t like being pulled by anyone, but I don’t know what to do about it.
I should be angry that he made me look foolish. He knew it was me the entire time. Every time I think about it—the way he gripped my hips or how my nipples hardened and my core dripped—mortification trickles in. Then at the ballet…
Ugh. I could throttle him. I knew him, too. Not just as Jagger Davis, but as my friend’s brother and my sister’s ex, even though he insists it wasn’t like that with Phoebe.
The thing is, I saw pictures my sister posted of her and Jagger together. It might have been just fun and games for him, but I could see it in her face. For her, it was much, much more. And as attracted as I am to him, I don’t want another incident like the one that caused the rift between us in the first place.
What I should’ve asked him was why he chose that moment—today, to say something. Or at all. Let me live in oblivion.
While I don’t understand the effect he has on me, I don’t have time to figure it out either. And it doesn’t matter how attracted to him I am. The list of reasons I can’t do anything about it is a mile long. The top of which is that I have too much going on in my life to add any other complications. And something tells me Jagger Davis is more than a little complicated.
But I cannot get the way he pulled me between his legs—onto his lap out of my head. Or the way his large hands gripped my hips, holding me in place. My chest pressed against his bare one. The heat emanating from him. His mouth on mine. The smell of oak, vanilla, and sweat…
