Page 44 of Keeper
“I know what love feels like. I’m not fucking defective,” I snap, anger coursing through my veins.
“Well, Booker,” she huffs and makes her way to the sliding glass door. “When you decide it’s time to open yourself up to loving someone who’s not a Harris, I hope I’m still around to see it.”
With that parting blow, my sister slams the door, leaving me on the balcony alone with her slobbering, useless dog that loves unconditionally.
IHEAD BACK TOSHOREDITCHfeeling like ten tons of horseshit after leaving an angry sister behind. I hate disappointing Vi. I hate seeing her cry even more. This is the kind of shit that keeps me up at night.
I walk into our flat to Poppy blasting music from her portable speaker. I drop my keys on the side table and frown at a strange setup in the middle of the living room. The closer I get, the more I realise what I’m looking at. It’s a wooden rack with long dowels. Stretched over the wooden spindles are lacy, colourful knickers and bras. Red, black, print, pastel. You name it, Poppy has it. It looks like her entire drawer of unmentionables are spread out to dry on this rack in the middle of the bloody living room.
My dick twitches with awareness as I zero in on a sheer black pair of knickers that I recall from the other night.
“Fuckwit poppycox!” Poppy’s voice exclaims from down the hallway. “No, please…God, no!”
She cries again and I rush to see what the commotion is. The bi-fold doors where the washer and dryer are located are open. When I peer around them, I see Poppy squatting down in front of the washing machine, shoving heaps of bubbles back inside the door.
One would think the oozing amounts of soap and water running out of the machine would catch my eye first, but nope. It’s not. It’s Poppy, down on the ground wearing nothing but a pair of pale blue knickers and a white cotton tank. It doesn’t take a genius to know that the way she’s trying to block the bubbles with her chest means she’s going to turn around and—
“Booker!” Poppy states, as she catches me looking down on her from my high vantage point where I can see a clear hollow of cleavage peeking out. She moves to stand and shrieks loudly when her foot slips and she goes tumbling backwards onto her arse.
“Fuck, Poppy,” I croak and bend down to grab her by the arms. She’s stretched out on her back, soaked nearly head-to-toe with bubbles all over her.
The corner of my eye catches two dark spots on her white tank top that’s drenched and completely fucking see through.
I’m totally not looking. I’m totally not looking.
Bloody hell, she’s not wearing a bra.
I looked.
My dick presses against the back of my zipper as I move to help her stand. When I think I’ve got her stable, I reach over and press a button on the washer to stop it from running. The room falls silent aside from our heavy breathing.
“What’s going on?” I ask, shoving a bubble-covered hand through my hair.
Poppy stands before me, tugging on the bottom of her tank top like it’ll miraculously grow trousers and cover her bare legs that are on full display for my wandering eyes. Not that I’m looking.
“Laundry day?” she says with a shrug, her toes wiggling in the foam.
She glances down and her cheeks flame as she realises I can see her nipples through her tank. Her hands cover her breasts. “I wasn’t expecting you home so early.”
“Clearly,” I murmur, my eyes warring with where to look that’s not quite so bloody indecent.
“I had a little mishap with the soap powder.” Her finger points to the washer.
I nod and turn my head so I’m looking at the wall. “I’ll erm…get the mop. Maybe you should…get a shirt.”
She nods awkwardly, and we brush against each other as we each make a move to go in opposite directions.Fuck me, I think her hard nipples brushed my arm.
I make my way to the kitchen until she calls out, “Hey, Booker.” She stops at the doorway to her room and looks over her shoulder.
“What?” I turn my gaze, begging myself not to check out her supple arse barely covered by her blue knickers.
“I want you to know this wasn’t done on purpose.”
I pull my lip into my mouth and frown. “Why would I have thought otherwise?”
She gets a weird smile on her face. “No reason. Simply wanted to be sure you weren’t thinking unfavourable thoughts about me.”
I exhale. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
