Page 165 of Don't Go Breaking My Heart
I exhale slowly and glance toward the door.
Every time it opens, my pulse spikes, even though I know it will take them longer to get here than the five minutes we’ve been waiting.
The server brings a set of menus and I ask for several more, nerves kicking into high gear. No amount of play time in front of thousands upon thousands of people prepares a dude for moments like this.
My knee bounces.
I may be sweating.
Georgia eyes my jittery leg like it might launch me into orbit. “You good there, Rocket Man?”
“Yup,” I lie. “Totally fine.”
“You look like you just got called to the principal’s office.”
“I feel like I’m about to get expelled.”
“You?” She snorts. “I might be younger, but I remember how you were the golden boy. Straight-A student. Team captain. Prom king.” She slides the basket of chips closer. “Here, eat a few more and stop drinking. Carbs fix everything.”
I take one and immediately regret it—my mouth is too dry to chew and the corn feels like dry sandpaper on my tongue.
Shit.
I drink more of my margarita.
Georgia fans me with a drink menu. “Jeez, you are being more dramatic about this than I was twenty minutes ago. She’snot coming to dump pig’s blood on your head, she’s coming to talk.”
“Yeah but she doesn’t know I’m here.”
My sister is unphased by my pouting. “So what? Surprise!”
“Shehatessurprises.”
“Sure, but I’m sure shelovesyou.”
That lands like a punch to the solar plexus.
I don’t respond, mostly because my mouth’s full of tortilla dust; but also because I don’t know how to say the thing I’ve been trying not to admit out loud: What if she wasn’t?
“What makes you so sure?”
My younger sister shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, Poppy is amazing and hilarious and I like her a lot. But she gives me ‘runaway bride’ vibes. Like—when the going gets tough, she’s a runner.”
I frown. “That’s harsh.”
“It’s not a bad thing,” Georgia says, licking queso off her thumb like we’re not discussing the possible implosion of my entire situationship. “Some people just get spooked when shit starts to get real. Like,realreal. You’re not exactly a low-stakes kind of guy, Turner. You’re all in. Intense. Like if someone dates you, it comes with commitment and probably a dog.”
I blink. “I don’t have a dog.”
I mean, there’s a dog in the house but he’s not mine.
Nugget does not count.
I gawk at Georgia.
She shrugs unapologetically and slurps the last of her drink. Licks her sugar laced fingers. “My point is, you’re not a temporary person. I’m sure that freaks some girls out—especially girls like Poppy who are used to being independent.”
I glance toward the door again, that familiar flutter in my chest ramping up to chaos levels.
