Page 166 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
“Don’t overthink it. Be yourself.” She leans across the table and boops my nose with the tip of her finger. “Dude, do you even realize what a catch you are? While some guys are out screwing puck bunnies and getting their pole waxed in the parking lot, you’re at home putting together LEGOs.”
The fact that she’s not wrong is not lost on me; I open my mouth to object—or to chastise her but she holds up a hand, already steamrolling my Big Brother outrage.
“Don’t even,” she says, wagging a finger. “Shh.”
Still, I shoot her a flat look. “Could you not hype me up like I’m a contestant onThe BachelororLove is Blind?”
“Please. Those men are hardly what I’d consider boyfriend material. They’re on those shows for the clout.” Georgia’s eyes flicker toward the front door. “Oops, they’re here. Time to look alive.”
I freeze.
My spine straightens. High alert.
I tug at the collar of my shirt as if it’s suddenly decided to strangle me, and watch as Nova leads Poppy into the restaurant, casually here for burritos or tacos and laughter.
Poppy doesn’t see me yet.
She’s scanning the room and by the looks of it, unsure what they’re doing here in the first place, and I’m hit with it. It: the sharp, aching punch ofwantandneedthat’s been dogging me since the moment she packed her shit and left the house.
She’s in high-waisted jeans and a white crop top, boobs strained against the fabric. Wedge heels. Hair pulled back into a low ponytail and the big gold hoops she loves so much.
And then?—
Then she sees me.
Poppy’s entire body halts as if it hit a wall of glass. Eyes go round. Lips part in shock.
She wasn’t expecting me to be here.
I mean, I knew she was going to be surprised. Part of me even thought maybe she’d walk out, even though I have done nothing wrong but fall for her.
Her gaze snaps to Nova, who shrugs likeWhoopsie-daisy!and then back to me. Back to Nova. Back to me.
We lock eyes.
Tentatively, I smile.
She takes one hesitant step forward. Then another.
I push out of the booth on instinct, ready to greet her because that’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?
“W-what are you two doing here?” she asks when she reaches the table and thank god for my sister, because she chimes in before I can part my lips.
“Blayke broke up with me and I needed a shoulder to cry on.”
Poppy’s mouth forms an O. “Oh, you poor thing.”
Georgia waves her hand like she’s fanning away tears. “It’s fine. I’mfine.Margarita therapy is really underrated, honestly.”
Poppy offers a small, uncertain smile, her eyes grazing me again and I can see the wheels turning in her head.Is this a setup or just a very bizarre coincidence?
Yes.
It’s a setup.
She still doesn’t sit.
Georgia bumps her hip against the bench, eyes wide and deceptively innocent. “Sit with us. Come on, come. We’re about to order food.”
