“Are you staring at my ass?” he asks with a laugh.
“Damn right I am.”
He chuckles and the sound makes me feel a little lighter once again.
“Zayn, what are we going to do about Harley and Jake?”
I stand leaning against the bathroom doorframe while he gets dressed.
“Right now, we do nothing.”
“So, I’m now your dirty little secret?”
A smile plays at his lips. “Hell yeah.” He winks, making me laugh.
“Don’t worry about everyone else, Poppy. Just enjoy it for what it is.”
“Okay,” I agree, although the word tastes bitter on my tongue. There are so many questions I want to ask him about this, about what we now are—or aren’t—but I can’t. I don’t want to be one of those girls.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
I nod, desperately trying to keep my sadness from my features that he’s about to leave.
“Remember, if you need me, if that prick tries anything, just call me. I’ve got your back, Pops. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you,” I breathe.
“Anytime.”
He gives me another knee-weakening kiss before pulling open my door and slipping through it.
A long sigh falls from my lips and I sag back against the wall as images from our time together tonight flash through my mind.
My cheeks heat and my temperature spikes as I think about the things we did. So much for telling myself I wasn’t going to kiss him again. I think I’ve well and truly shattered that promise to myself.
As I push from the wall and drop the towel that was covering me, I realize that I don’t even care. This evening has been the exact escape I needed and for the next few hours I’m going to enjoy the high Zayn left me with. Tomorrow, however, is a different story and I have a feeling I’m going to feel very different about it.
After pulling on some pajamas, I go and check on Austin and Sofia, who as predicted, are both fast asleep in their beds.
The living room door is still closed when I get to the bottom of the stairs and there’s no crying coming from inside, so I decide against dropping myself back into real life already. After I get myself a bottle of water, I head back up to my room in the hope of having a full night’s sleep without Cooper keeping me awake.
My cell dings as I close my door behind me and I rush over.
My heart leaps when I see Zayn’s name staring back at me.
Zayn: I can still taste you.
My cheeks burn at his dirty words.
Poppy: Who says I can’t say the same thing?
A smile pulls at my lips as I hit send. I feel all kinds of naughty right now. Crawling into bed, I wait for his response.
Zayn: Fuuuuuck. I’m coming back.
Something explodes in my belly at the thought. I want to say it’s panic that he’s going to do so, but really, I think it’s just excitement that he might ignore my need for him to leave.
Sadly, he never reappears but that doesn’t mean we don’t spend the whole night sending suggestive messages back and forth.
By the time I turn my light out and close my eyes, my head is full of all kinds of ideas for what I want to do to him the next time I see him, and I soon find myself dreaming of some of those very things.
The next time I wake, my skin is covered in a sheen of sweat and I have a very vivid image in my head of what Zayn was doing to me in my slumber.
Knowing I need to put all of that behind me, I throw the covers back and plod to my bathroom.
Everywhere I look, I see him. Standing with his hand resting on the wall in the shower, with my tiny towel barely covering his body. His presence is ever-present and by the time I’m ready for school, I’m damn near desperate to get a look at the real him instead of just the image in my head.
“Where’s Harley?” I ask, dropping down into the passenger seat of Ruby’s car when she pulls up out the front to get me.
“Ugh, running late. Bad hair day or some crap. She’s going to drive herself.”
“You have a good night?” I ask, although I instantly regret it because I might open up the conversation about my own. I don’t want to hide things from Harley and Ruby, but I can hardly tell Harley about what happened, and I don’t want to put Ruby in a position where she has to lie to Harley.
“Yeah. We went to Aces and hung out for a bit after practice and then I had a ton of homework to do. That math assignment is killer, right?”
“Right,” I agree. “What about you?” She glances over at me briefly when she pulls to a stop at an intersection. “Wait, hold that thought. Is that a hickey on your neck?”
Lifting my hand, I immediately cover the spot she’s staring at.
“Um…”
“Poppy,” she warns, her eyes narrowing at me because she’s forced to focus on the road once more.
“It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit it is. Who gave it to you?”
“I’m not talking about this.”
“Oh, hell yes you are.”
“Oh my God, was it Zayn?”
“What? No,” I protest a little too harshly.
“Fuck. It was. OMG. OMG. Give me all the details right now.”
“Ruby,” I groan. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“Anything between you and Zayn is not nothing.”
“Look,” I say, turning to her. “You know as well as I do the drama from anything happening between us could cause.”
“Didn’t seem to bother either of you last night,” she mutters, her voice full of amusement.
“Ruby, please. This is serious.”
“As serious as a hickey.” She giggles. “Did you give him your V-card?”
“No,” I mutter.
“Girl, why not? I have it on good authority that you couldn’t give it up to anyone more… skilled.”
I groan at her words. “Maybe because of that.”
“Don’t do that, Poppy. You’re better than all of them and you know it.”
“Do I?”
She pulls into her usual space in the school parking lot and turns to look at me.
“Enough, okay. I don’t need a lecture. Last night was…” I trail off, trying to come up with a word to describe what it was that doesn’t make Ruby think I’m as desperate for a repeat as I am. Her brows rise as she waits. “A mistake.” Her lips part to argue and I rush to beat her to it. “A mistake that doesn’t need to be discussed or repeated.”
“But—”
“No buts. The conversation ends here and we don’t speak of it again, and you certainly do not repeat it to Harley.” I pin her with a look that I hope communicates how serious I am about this.
“Okay fine. But we need to do something about that hickey if you don’t want Harley asking about it herself. Come on.”
I follow her to the bathroom where she does a much better job than I did at covering the red mark with concealer. It probably has something to do with the fact she can afford to buy decent makeup, whereas mine is the cheapest stuff I can find at the store.
“There, as good as new,” she says, checking out her handiwork.