Page 81 of Broken Ties (Rixon High 4)

“And I said I got it.” I stood and snatched up the brochures. “I’ll take a look at these. Thanks.”

“Before you walk out that door, son, I want you to think on something.”

I glanced back and Coach added, “A wise man once said, ‘life is ten percent what happens to you, and ninety percent how you react to it.’ Don’t forget that.”

Coach’s words stayed with me all morning. As my team was out on the field for practice, I had PT with the team’s physio. He’d confirmed what the hospital doctor had told me. If I took it easy for the next couple of weeks and did the exercises, he saw no reason why I couldn’t play in our next game.

I had a bit of time to kill before third period so I headed to the library to finish up an assignment. But the second I slipped inside, I spotted her.

Poppy was in one of the stacks, searching for a book. Her brows furrowed with concentration as she ran her eyes over the rows of spines, her thumb nudged up against her teeth.

Jesus, she was adorable. And yeah, maybe some primal part of me noticed it more now that she had Eli sniffing around her, but it was only because I’d always thought of her as mine. Even if I knew she never could be—not in the way she wanted.

I’d texted her an apology yesterday. Two little words I knew would never be enough to repair the damage I’d done to us. To her.

Fuck, I’d really, really screwed up the other night.

Before I could stop myself, I headed in her direction, moving quietly so as not to draw attention to myself. I wanted to be closer to her, to watch her do such an innocent and mundane task.

Things had gotten too complicated between us. When we were younger, they were simpler. We could hug and laugh and lie in her bedroom or mine and not have to worry about any of the other bullshit. What our parents would say or our friends. When I didn’t look at her and dissect every smile and every word.

We were just us.

Poppy and Aaron.

Friends forever.

Hovering at the end of the stack, I watched her. The way she leaned in, inspecting the titles, trailing her fingertips across the old musty books. The same way she’d trailed her fingertips along the back of my neck in that bathroom stall when I’d kissed her.

Heat rippled through me making my dick twitch.

Shit. This was a bad idea. I needed to leave before I—

“Aaron?” Her big green eyes snapped to mine. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I came to finish an assignment and saw you.”

“You saw me.” Her expression was hard and unforgiving. “You should go.”

“Poppy, come on,” I whispered, taking a step toward her.

“Aaron, don’t…” She held up her hand, stepping away. But the stacks were narrow, barely two people wide and I couldn’t fight the tether pulling me toward her.

“You didn’t reply to my text,” I said.

Her brows crinkled as she inhaled a shaky breath. “What did you want me to say?”

Another step closer.

“I was hoping you would say you forgive me. That you know I’m right. That this, us… it wouldn’t work.”

The air turned thick around us, crackling with tension. Hatred burned in her eyes. But Poppy didn’t hate me. Not really. She hated that I was right. That if we wanted to save our friendship, we had to stop whatever was happening.

Whatever this was.

So why the fuck was I moving closer instead of backing away?

Back the fuck up, Bennet.

---