I haven’t seen Caine since graduation but we’ve managed to keep in touch through social media. I head to the bar thinking I’ll grab a beer and then head on back to say hi to Caine, but even the bar is packed. I lean on the edge and wave at Hunter.
“What’s up, mate?” he asks.
“Good, bro. Can I get my usual on tap?” I ask.
“Haven’t seen you all week. Choose another establishment now?” he chuckles, leaning on the bar.
“Nah. I’ve cleaned up my act. Got to be clean to play my best,” I explain.
“Good for you,” he says and he reaches for a red Solo cup.
A chick moves in next to me. She watches me and smiles. I’m not in the mood to be picked up, even though she is stunning. Her long auburn hair reaches past her shoulders. Her eyes are the color of what I imagine paradise would look like. Her oval face looks like the face of an angel. I smile back and then look over my shoulder. It’s about eight forty-five. Poppy should be here any minute. I feel bad enough for last night. I have to make it up to her.
“Hi,” the girl says.
Hunter places the beer in front of me and I pass him a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks,” he looks at the girl beside me. “You’re back.”
“Yeah, I’m here for the band,” she says to him. I take a moment to really check her out. She’s wearing a blue top that shows off a little skin on her stomach and tight black jeans that show just how fine her round ass is. My gaze continues down to her black Doc Martens and I grin. Not sure why but there’s something about her.
“Nice. And I see you’ve met Declan again. He really doesn’t live here, I swear,” Hunter laughs.
“Wait,” I interrupt. “What do you mean again?”
Hunter looks at me and his face scrunches, then it’s as if understanding dawns on him. “You were pretty sloshed the other night. This gorgeous lady here got catfished and you helped her out,” he explains with that Australian accent of his.
The girl takes a step back from the bar.
I take a second to really look at her now. “Poppy?” I ask. Damn, every time I see this girl she looks totally different.
“Did you not recognize me?” she asks seeming offended.
“Um,” I run my fingers through my hair. “No, sorry.”
“That’s fine,” she says. She pulls her purse in front of her and takes out a notepad and pen.
“Wait.” I look back at Hunter and then at Poppy and recognition strikes like a freaking tsunami. “You’re the girl from the other night… you were real.”
Poppy laughs nervously.
Hunter mutters, “Oh brother.”
I panic. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
I run my fingers through my hair repeatedly and beads of sweat pop on my forehead. This is very, very bad. I told a reporter my deepest darkest secret.
“A-are you okay?” Poppy asks, watching me like she is worried for my sanity.
“Can you please put that notepad away? It’s making me very nervous,” I mumble.
She looks at it as if she doesn’t understand me but, thankfully, she tucks the notepad and pen back into her purse.
“I may have said somethings the other night that were. . .”
“Oh,” Poppy says, and her pretty little mouth forms an O. I’m anxious as hell on the one hand and sucked in by her looks on the other. “No, don’t worry about that.”
“How can I not worry? You’re a damn reporter.” The minute the words fly from my mouth I wince.
She flinches and I feel like an asshole once again.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just. . .” I lift my hand up and take a few breaths.
“Declan, I would never write anything about your secret. Please believe me. I want a story from you but not one you don’t want to tell,” she assures, and somehow she manages to slow my racing heart.
“I don’t trust easily.” I watch her skeptically. “This is putting me in a very uncomfortable position.”
“I know all about not trusting easily.” She smiles and nods. “How about we don’t talk about the story tonight? Let’s just enjoy the band and have some fun.”
“I can do that.” I nod but I still feel like my stomach is tied in knots.
“Hey, don’t forget about your beer,” Hunter shouts.
“It’s fine, he doesn’t need it,” Poppy answers for me.
“No, I really do,” I assure her.
“That’s exactly the reason you don’t,” she says, and she pulls me by the hand and walks us toward a crowd close to the stage.
I pass Bozeman along the way and he eyes Poppy appreciatively, and for some reason I don’t like it.
“Bro,” Mathew Sutter, our other center, fist bumps me.
“Hi,” I say and we stop moving.
“Who’s your friend?” he asks when I don’t introduce Poppy. The guys are used to me being moody for one reason or other.
I don’t answer. Instead I take Poppy’s hand and lead her backstage.
“Where are we going?” she shouts after me.
I look back at her. “You’ll see.”
I head backstage where there’s a security guard. “I’m looking for Caine.”
“You and half the people in this place,” the guard answers blandly. I’m a big guy at six foot two with lots of muscle mass but the guard towers over me, I’m guessing at six foot five and an extra hundred pounds of weight.
“Tell him Declan McAvoy is here to see him. I know him from back home,” I say.
The guard eyes me like he is trying to gauge if I’m telling the truth. I must be convincing because he heads back, leaving the entranceway open.
“So what was Detroit like?” Poppy asks.
I cock my brow.
“Seriously. I already know your secret. Just tell me what growing up in Detroit was like,” she says and smiles sweetly. I find her hard to resist in more ways than one.
“It was shitty,” I say dryly.
“Wanna elaborate?” She grins.
“Not really.” I smirk.
She laughs. “You’re going to make writing this story very difficult.”
“I don’t mean to be difficult.” I push out my lower lip.
Poppy smiles softly. “Yeah, fine. Why don’t I tell you a little bit about myself so you see how not difficult it is?” Her smile touches her eyes and a pang of something hits me in the chest.
“I’m all ears.”
“I’m from lots of places, but the last place we lived was Minnesota,” she shares.
The guard returns. “Caine told me to bring you on back.”
I take Poppy by the hand and follow the guard. This girl is a breath of fresh air.
“You’re about to find out how Detroit was and remember everything he says is off the record.” I lift a pointed finger at her and then feel bad so I drop it.
“Of course.” She grins.
Shit. What the fuck am I doing? This girl is too sweet and innocent, for that matter. I can’t stop remembering how she pressed her lips to my ear and said she’d never been kissed. How is that even possible?
We reach a large room and I spot Cain right away.
“Declan fucking McAvoy,” he says, standing from a couch. His bandmates stand around him. At least I assume they are his bandmates. I release Poppy’s hand and Cain and I do some sort of bro hug.