Page 121 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
“Yes,” Poppy says emphatically. “And loading the dishwasher.” She fully leaning into the bit—or maybe not a bit at all—eyes locked on mine, mouth twitching like she’s having the time of her damn life. “I’ve never seen anyone load a utensil basket with such purpose.”
My dick twitches at the sight of her glossy lips and I force my eyes to stay on her face—and not stray to her tits.
“You aredone,”I tell her.
My sister twitters. “Well. I know I speak for Stella and myself when I say we would love to see him settle down. If you have any friends who might make a good match—send them his way.”
After that dinner goes downhill.
I spend the remaining meal fending off the server’s advances, and at the same time listening to my sister and my roommate commiserate about love, dating, and sex. AS IF I WERE NOT SITTING HERE.
I can’t wait to get them in the car.
Can’t wait to get them inside the house.
We finally get the check—thankgod—and I pay before Georgia can even pretend to reach for her wallet.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath.
“For the meal or the trauma?” Poppy asks sweetly.
“Both,” I grumble.
The drive home is mostly quiet, save for Georgia humming along to some overly dramatic breakup ballad on the radio, and Poppy occasionally giggling to herself like she’s replaying the greatest hits of my emotional collapse.
By the time we walk into the house, I feel like I’ve aged three years.
I lock the door behind us, kick off my shoes, and mutter, “Okay. Georgia, you taking the couch or the couch?”
She blinks at me. “Hard no.”
I pause. “Excuse me?”
She shrugs, dropping her bag onto the armchair like she owns the place. “I’m stealing your room. You have the perfect mattress, and the couch has no lumbar support. I’ve been driving all day, Turner. Be serious.”
She stretches with a yawn.
I stare at her. “You’re kidding.”
“Do Ilooklike I’m kidding?”
Poppy makes a strangled sound that could be a cough or a laugh. Possibly both.
“You want me to sleepwhereexactly?” I ask. In my own house.
“Couch,” Georgia says simply. “Or your roommate’s bed. You two seem cozy, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem.” She raises her eyebrows in a challenge and I’m suddenly terrified of this little monster.
“Couch it is,” I bite out. “Seems I have no choice.”
Georgia smirks. “Thanks, big bro. You’re the best.” My sister pauses. “Go grab what you need so I can go to sleep.” She yawns.
Right.
Go grab what I need…
“Am I allowed to brush my damn teeth?”
Permission granted.
