“You’ve got confidence, you just haven’t discovered it yet. Just wait until you walk into that bar. You’re going to turn heads. Cage is going to be completely enthralled with you and it’s always nice to have a hot guy drooling over you. It does wonders for your ego.” She smirks like she knows the feeling well.
“When you talk like that I want to run and hide in my bed under the blankets,” I pout.
She passes me her purse with my stuff in it. “Call the Uber now. I don’t want you backing out. Besides, what’s the worst that can happen?”
ONE
Poppy
I have my phone screen open to Cage’s picture. I don’t see him anywhere in the bar. I get a sinking feeling I’ve been ditched, but Bonnie is right. Guys are walking by and smiling at me. They are checking me out and giving me a one-up glance that definitely shows they appreciate what they see. It feels weird and I’m definitely not used to this kind of attention.
My phone pings with a text from Cage.
Cage: I see you. I’m here by the bar. You’re more beautiful in person.
Oh, that’s sweet of him to say. I walk over to the bar. There are a few couples sitting together and talking. There’s a guy holding a beer bottle and staring at it like it has all the answers to life, and just past him is another guy who’s smiling wide and checking me out, but I don’t see Cage or someone that resembles the pic he posted on the app. I walk over to the bar next to the smiling dude, thinking I will text Cage my location from here.
Me: I’m here. On the north side of the bar.
I send the text and instantly regret it because my description sounds weird.
The phone of the guy beside me pings, and my gaze is drawn to his screen. My stomach sinks. Oh no.
“Poppy?” The guy sitting beside me, the one who smiled at me, the one who I thought must be in his forties, is talking to me. I have clearly texted him but that can’t be right because Cage is supposed to be a sophomore at Westfall.
“Um,” I mutter. “Cage?”
“Yes,” he says excitedly.
“That can’t be. There’s no way you’re a sophomore,” I argue, checking him out. His expanded waistline and gray hair on the sides of his head say otherwise.
“That pic was of me as a sophomore at Westfall.” He grins and chuckles.
I pick up my purse. “I’m leaving.” I thought that app was exclusive to Westfall students.
Cage takes my arm. “Hold up now, sweetheart. It’s still me, the same guy in that pic. I’ve just aged some.”
“I’m leaving,” I repeat. “I don’t appreciate getting catfished.”
“Oh, come on now,” he says but he doesn’t release my arm.
“Let go of my arm now or I swear I’ll scream,” I warn. The bar is loud with chatter and rock music, but I’m pretty sure I can use my vocal cords to their full potential. Just as I open my mouth to wail, the dude beside us, the one who was staring at his beer bottle like it had all the answers to life turns to us.
“If I were you, I’d release that lady right now,” he says but he’s slurring. Geez. This night just keeps getting better and better.
“Mind your damn business,” Cage barks at the guy. Then he turns back to me. “Babe, give me a chance.”
“I’m not giving you a chance,” I say, my tone filled with disgust. “You deceived me above all else. Deception doesn’t deserve second chances.”
The drunk guy chooses then to stand up. He’s swaying a little but I take him in. He’s well over six feet tall with a build of a hockey player. The only reason I say that is because my brother plays for the Westfall hockey team. The guy has dark hair that peeks out of his cap and his eyes are the most intoxicating color of gray I’ve ever seen, like storm clouds. He uses his hand and leans on the bar to straighten himself out. “Look, buddy. I don’t know what your deal is, but this girl wants nothing to do with you. Just accept it and move on because even though I’m pretty sloshed right now, I can still take you,” he says. Holy shit, when did my life become so dramatic?
The tall handsome savior looks down at catfish man because he must be at least five inches taller than him. Catfish man releases my arm and says, “Okay. Fine. Shit.” He shakes his head like he feels he’s been wronged. “Bitch,” he says to me and then he stalks off.
“Do you want me to punch him out?” drunk guy asks me. “I can still do it drunk, trust me, I’m a hockey player. We fight all the time. No man should talk to a lady that way.”
“That’s okay,” I say to Drunk Guy. “He just left the bar anyway.” I slink into the barstool feeling drained. So much for my first real date and getting kissed.
The bartender walks over to me and asks what I’d like to drink. I order a club soda. I’m only eighteen and a half and I don’t have a fake ID. The bartender nods and grabs a glass and pours me the soda.
“I’ll take another one of these,” Drunk Guy says to the bartender from beside me.
“You’ve had enough, McAvoy. How about we switch it up to water?” the bartender suggests and places a cup in front of Drunk Guy and fills it with water.
My phone beeps and I check to see that Bonnie sent me a text to see how the intro with Cage went. I’m feeling disappointed and completely drained. So I answer one word. Awful. I put my phone in my purse, or Bonnie’s purse, and I take a deep breath.
“How did you get mixed up with that grandpa?” Drunk Guy asks from beside me.
“I’m seriously asking myself the same question,” I huff, but I don’t answer Drunk Guy because saying I found grandpa on College Pro will sound pathetic.
“He totally catfished you, didn’t he?” Drunk Guy replies.
Shit. Talk about embarrassing.
A flush crawls up my cheeks. “Yeah.” I nod, feeling mortified because Drunk Guy is seriously good-looking.
“Which app was it?” he asks.
“College Pro.” I wince.
“Never used that one myself. Actually, I’ve never used any app. I play for the Westfall Dragons. I don’t need that.” He pauses, shakes his head, and then he starts nodding his head. “I need a filter right now.”
I laugh. He’s funny. He plays on the same hockey team as my brother, Ryse. I know they are all good guys and Ryse is really close with them. He’s clearly not a lunatic because he just saved me from Cage, the old dude. I wonder why he’s sitting in a bar drinking by himself though. I know Ryse doesn’t drink much once the season starts.
“I’m not trying to be funny,” Drunk Guy says and then he extends his hand to me. “Declan McAvoy.”
I shake his hand. “Poppy.” I don’t give him my last name. I don’t want him knowing that I am Ryse’s little sister. I hate being the little sister because since high school Ryse has threatened every boy on the block away from me. To my dismay they all listened.
“Poppy,” Declan repeats. “Nice name.”
“It’s all right,” I say and take a sip of my soda. “Thanks for saving me from that loser.”
“I think you had things under control,” Declan says.