Page 24 of Keeper
“I’m not lying!” My fists clench.
“You let that prat Giles Windsor take your fucking v-card?” Now he looks really unamused.
“Yes.” Why is this so hard for him to believe?
“When?” he asks flippantly, obviously thinking he’ll be able to trip me up and catch me in a lie.
I huff hard and lean forward, pinning him with my own keeper stare. “The same night he threw that party after we all finished our A-Levels.”
This knocks Booker back on the couch, the wind evidently taken out of his puffy keeper sails. He frowns, trying to cycle back through his memory bank to see what clicks into place. I recall plenty of things that click into place that night.
“What about you?” I ask, a sharpness to my voice.
“What about me?” He looks distracted.
“How many girls have you shagged?” My head jerks with challenge. Now it’s his turn to be in the hot seat.
He looks prickly, so I add, “Whatever you say, I’m going to multiply it by two. That’s what a quiz inCosmosays to do.”
His jaw clenches. “I’m not sure without really thinking, but I’d guess like…twenty.”
I pull back. That’s actually not as bad as I expected.Unless it’s really forty.He looks uncomfortable, but I continue, “Most of them after secondary?”
He frowns. “I don’t see why that matters.”
“Did you sleep with Sidney Carmichael?” It’s my question that is instant this time. On the tip of my tongue, waiting to be unleashed.
A flicker of confusion in his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. I want to scream at him that I know what he did. I want to push him back on the couch and ask him why he did it. Why he brought her to a place that was supposed to be sacred. That was supposed to be ours. Of all the trees in the world, he had to tell her that he loved her and fuck herthere.
But I don’t. Because I don’t care. Because I’m not a naïve little girl anymore who thinks her best friend is the man of her dreams. Booker is a good mate and that’s enough. It’s not his fault my adolescent fantasies tried to twist him into something more.
After a moment of tense silence, I exhale. “Don’t answer that. I’m knackered and I really don’t need to know. I’m going to bed.”
I pick myself up off the couch and walk past a frozen Booker. He’s evidently still processing, but there’s no need to continue a conversation that doesn’t matter anymore. This has all gone far enough.
My feet feel like a hundred pounds as I trudge down the darkened hallway. The dim lamp in my room is on, providing a clear path to my reprieve. I hear Booker’s footsteps behind me. Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around my forearm, bringing me to a spinning halt as he presses me up against the wall.
I don’t have time to react before he rushes out, “I’m sorry, Poppy.” He presses his other hand on the wall beside my face, caging me in. Regret colours his features, but I’m not sure what he’s actually apologising for. “I shouldn’t have pressed you so hard about Germany.”
I restrain myself from rolling my eyes and try to ignore his hardened torso brushing up against my chest. I’m also trying to ignore the way his grip on my arm has softened, and how he’s rubbing soft circles in the crook of my elbow. His callused thumb in that tender spot apparently touches a direct nerve that shoots right between my legs.
My knees wobble. He’s doing that tall and intimidating thing, consuming my senses so all I can do is breathe in his fresh primitive scent. I clear my throat and say, “I just want to get back to normal with you, Booker. We seem so different now.”
Irritation tremors in his square jaw as his eyes flash back and forth between mine. “We’re still Booker and Poppy. We have to be.”
He slides his hand through my short hair to cup my cheek. I inhale a shaky breath as he closes the distance and presses his lips to my forehead. That simple caress on a seemingly innocent part of my body sends shivers up my spine.What is it about a man kissing you on the forehead that’s so damn sexy?
Murmuring against my skin, he adds, “We’re just a bit more grown up now.” I’m limp in his arms as he rubs his nose down my temple and my cheek, his breath mingling with mine as he nears the corner of my mouth. A soft gasp escapes me when he presses his body flush with mine. He feels so good. So warm. So…right.
“What are you doing to me, Poppy?” he whispers, his voice trembling.
His words are a kick to my heart. As I lift my chin for him to kiss me, he pulls back and presses himself against the opposite wall. His hands are still frozen in the position he was holding me. Eyes wide and haunted. With a shudder, he turns and strides into his room, closing the door behind him.
Closing the door on me.
IHAD WRITTEN OFF NIGHTone with Poppy as a mistake. An accident. A one-time encounter that happened because I missed my best friend, and we were a bit pissed so we got carried away. It took some time, but we managed to get past it. To get back to some semblance of normal.
But then last night happened. And after a shitty night’s sleep, the morning light of day brings no clarity to my mind. What started as an easy, carefree movie night ended in a cluster-fuck of epic proportions.
