Page 74 of Wicked Love

Oh! Okay. I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.

You can take back the invitation.

Poppy

No, come over!

Now?

Poppy

Yes.

I walk to my room and brush my teeth, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror because I know if I do, I’ll talk myself out of this. Then I go to Becca’s room and see her and Mrs. McGregor reading a book together.

“I’m going to head out for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” they both say.

I text my mom that I’m leaving too, but she doesn’t answer. When I walk by her door, it’s closed and I almost knock, but decide to leave it with the text.

Poppy’s told me where she lives before, but this is my first time here. When I walk up to her condo, I smirk at the ceramic frog sitting in a rocking chair by her door. I knock twice and she opens the door, devastating me with her beauty.

Her hair is wet like she just got out of the shower, andshe’s wearing a long-sleeved loose T-shirt over leggings. Her face is shining, clean of makeup, and she looks so beautiful it hurts.

I nearly turn and bolt right then, but she opens the door wider, and I step inside.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

HEADS OR TAILS

POPPY

I pace around my tiny living room, hands wringing nervously as I wait. My phone sits on the coffee table, the earlier text thread with Bowie glowing faintly on the screen. He’ll be here any minute. I don’t even have time to text Marley to have a freak-out about Bowie Fox coming to my place. I havesomuch to talk to Marley about…

After our kiss—the mind-bending kiss we shared at Briar Hill—I’ve thought of nothing else. It wasenough of a shocker to get my mind off of being pregnant for at least five seconds.

The knock at my door makes me jump out of my skin, but when I open it and see him standing there, looking imposing yet shy, I relax a little bit. His hair is slightly tousled and there’s an intensity in his eyes that makes my stomach flip.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low.

I let him inside and close the door behind him. For a moment, we stand there, awkwardly shifting as we stare at one another.

“Nice place,” Bowie says, glancing around.

“Thanks. It’s small,” I say, fidgeting.

“It’s cozy.”

The way he says it makes me feel warm all over, and I bite my lip when my heart does an annoying pinball bounce around.

“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, walking toward the kitchen. “With your popcorn?”

“I’m good actually. I’m not really hungry.”

I turn back and find him watching me, his lips curved up. His gaze is steady, but there’s a softness that makes my breath hitch.

“I’ve been a wreck all day,” I blurt out.

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