“Why do you want to go out with this Poppy girl if you’re still hung up on Tash? Is that really fair to her?”
I run an anxious hand through my hair. “I like her, and she’s different. Even when things were okay with Tash, I never felt settled, but Poppy—she’s like…all this goodness wrapped up in one person. I want to have that.” I look down at the counter. “I want to deserve to have that.”
“Well, you deserve it. You just have to work for it since this girl isn’t a hockey hooker and won’t throw herself on your dick. My advice is to bring her flowers at the very least. And don’t pick her up in your Hummer. That thing is big enough to have an orgy in.”
“Good point.” I can definitely do flowers again. “Should I take her out after dinner?”
“Take her out where?”
“I don’t know. To a club?”
“No. Definitely not. You want to avoid reminders of how you completely forgot who she was and don’t remember her ever being at your house. Stay as far away from that scenario as possible.”
“What if she invites me to come inside after the date?”
“What about it?”
“Should I go in?”
“If she invites you, yes. If she doesn’t, I don’t suggest trying to invite yourself. That makes you look desperate. Unless you want to look desperate. Then go for it.”
“Do I want to look desperate?” I don’t think I do, but then I’ve done a lot of screwing up where Poppy is concerned, so it’s possible I do want to. More than that, it’s possible I look that way already whether I want to or not.
“Probably not? But you may want to keep in mind this advice is coming from me, so a second opinion might be helpful.”
“Why would I need a second opinion?”
“Well…Alex kind of stalked me after the first time we slept together, and I didn’t actually mind his stalkery-ness.”
We both turn at the sound of a throat clearing. Alex is standing at the threshold of the room with questions all over his face. Waters and I are close to the same size, but he’s a little broader.
He looks his wife over. “What kind of lies are you telling about me?”
“They’re not lies. You wouldn’t stop calling, and then you started sending my boobs gift certificates and presents. Then you showed up at my house uninvited, and my work, and you pestered me until I cracked.”
Waters smirks. “That’s just tenacity.”
“It’s also called stalking.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He moves her ponytail out of the way and kisses her shoulder.
“Yes. Yes it did.” She looks to me. “But maybe you should talk to Lily about this, too, to be safe.”
“Yeah. I don’t know about that. You’re the only person who knows about this for now.”
“Knows about what?” Waters asks.
“Lance has a date.”
Waters’ eyes go wide. “Like a date, date? Or with someone you met off Tinder?”
“A real date, not a hook up. I mean, I’m not opposed to the hook-up part, but that’s not the reason I’m going out with her.”
“Wow. Uh…that’s great?” He still hasn’t lost that shocked look.
“Let’s see if I can manage not to fuck it up.”
Violet gives me a warm smile. “You’ll do fine. Just remember the flowers and not to be stalkery.”
“Got it all locked up here.” I tap my temple as I push the stool away and stand. “I’m ready whenever you are,” I tell Waters. “We’re picking up Westinghouse on the way, aye?”
“Yup. I’ll be back in a few hours. You still gonna be here, or do you need to go to the office?” Waters asks Violet.
“I’ll be here.”
He whispers something in her ear, and her cheeks turn pink. She murmurs something and pushes on his chest. “Good luck tonight, Lance.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime. And if you want to know more about the ins and outs of stalking, ask this guy right here.” She pats Alex’s cheek.
I wonder what it’s like to have that kind of connection with someone. I bet it’s terrifying. But if it wasn’t worth it, people wouldn’t let it happen.
After our workout and ice time, I drop Waters and Westinghouse off. I don’t have to see the team massage therapist for a couple more days, thank fuck. Every single hour of torture makes me highly aware of what I’ve forfeited to get this date with Poppy. I hit the flower shop and follow that with a candy store. I stock up on all my favorite treats from the UK, searching for the things Poppy’s said she likes.
Then I go home and whack off, followed by a shower and more whacking off. I adhere to all the first-date guidelines as set out by Waters, who gave me some of his own advice on the way to get Westinghouse. We didn’t discuss it in front of Darren, and I was relieved since his relationship with Charlene is a little fucking weird from what I’ve witnessed. And that’s saying something, coming from me.
I shave because I don’t want any parts of Poppy to chafe as a result of too much stubble.
Once I’m dressed and ready to go, I pace around my house. I consider whacking off one more time, but twice should be enough, so I hit my garage to pick a car. I decide on the Audi; it’s not too flashy, but it’s nice. I’m going to arrive early, but I don’t think I can wait any longer. It’s been four days since I’ve seen Poppy, and I’m antsy.
Once I’m parked in front of her house, I take a few deep breaths before I get out of my car and walk up the front steps. The door is painted deep green. The mat on the front step says WELCOME. It’s homey—not like my place.
I ring the doorbell and wait, listening to the sound of pattering feet coming down the hall. The only time I’ve been more nervous was my first official NHL game.
The last time I tried to do this kind of thing I was fifteen years old. I went out with this girl in high school before I really understood my extreme aversion to physical contact from the opposite sex—before I got how badly my mother had fucked me up, how she’d made it impossible for me to have anything resembling a normal relationship. There I was, trying to be normal when I wasn’t.
The door swings open, and my dick starts crying. Maybe a third whacking session would’ve been a good idea based on where all the blood has redirected itself in my body. I don’t plan to let the head below my belt govern my actions tonight, but Poppy is my goddamn wet dream.
She’s wearing a silky emerald green dress. It’s the perfect color for her hair and her peachy, pale skin. The straps are two inches wide, showing off a light dusting of freckles on her shoulders—the only sign she’s been out in the sun recently. Her dress cinches at the waist and flares at the hip, stopping above her knee. It’s classy, pretty, and sexy all at the same time.
Poppy is perfectly feminine, curvy and lush. She’s exactly the opposite of Tash, who’s all hard muscle. That could be a factor in why I’m so into Poppy too.
I want to get my hands on all of those curves. I want to get inside her and feel that softness against my body. I want her to look at me the way she did when her sister dragged her out of the closet all those years ago: like leaving me was the last thing she wanted to do.
She took more of me with her than she’ll ever really understand. Maybe more than I’ll ever understand. And even after all the shit I’ve pulled, all the ways I’ve fucked up, she’s still willing to give me a shot. So handing control over to my dick isn’t an option. But man, the last thing I want in this moment is to get back in my car and go sit in a restaurant to be civilized and have conversations that might mean talking about myself.
Poppy runs her palms over her hips self-consciously. “Lance?”
“Huh?”
She clasps her hands in front of her. Her grip is tight, like maybe she’s trying not to fidget. “Do you want to come in?”
Yes. And then I want to get you naked and screw you on the closest surface. I stuff my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something I shouldn’t with them. “I can wait here if you want to grab your purse.”
Her pretty pink tongue touches her plush, glossed lips. I wonder if they taste like strawberries, or maybe something sweeter, like vanilla.