Page 17 of Last Boy

I walk toward Lana, and the hope in her eyes when she notices I’m approaching her makes me feel even worse than I already do. Seductively, she snakes her hands on my body, biting down on her bottom lip.

I waste no time dipping my lips to her ear when I reach her. “Hey, look, I’m going to talk to Huff for a minute. But just so you know, my friend over there, Elias…he’s been checking you out all night.”

When I pull back, her face falls, and her lips form into a frown. I can tell right away that her feelings are hurt.

She tilts her head to the side. “Who’s got you too worked up to blow off some steam with me tonight?” She bites her bottom lip. “No one turns me down.”

Cupping her cheek, I look her in the eyes. “You’re fucking beautiful. And hot. And your body…sexy as hell. And trust me, I know I’m one crazy fucker for walking away from you tonight.” Nodding toward the bar where Elias sits, talking to Nixon, I smile at her. “I promise you, he’s a good guy. Much better than me. And he thinks you’re gorgeous.”

Nervously, she glances his way before she suddenly seems to sober up, tucking her hair behind her ear shyly. So not like the girl that was practically begging to ride my cock minutes ago.

Swallowing, she turns toward me. “And he’s been checking me out?”

“You know it.” I nod. “See you at practice, babe.”

Walking toward the bar, I clasp my hand on Elias’s shoulder. “She’s waiting for you, big boy. Be good to her.”

He looks like he might actually piss himself. And I don’t wait to see if he heads toward her before I walk toward the other end of the bar, where Poppy and Cade still sit.

Knowing it’ll piss her off, I take the seat next to Poppy, and I instantly feel the anger spilling from her body. Sort of like a fucking fire that someone just threw some gasoline on. In this case, I guess I’m the gasoline. And something about that—something about knowing I have the ability to get under her skin like nobody else can—makes my dick harden the slightest bit.

She shoots me a harsh glare. “There’s, like, twenty other open seats, asshole.” She waves her hand around. “Pick one.”

The bartender, Tasha, slides me a beer and gives me a flirty wink. Which only seems to piss Poppy off more.

Satisfied that she’s jealous, I bring the beer to my lips and take a swig. “Nah, think I’ll sit right here. It’s a bit chilly outside, and I figured Satan herself could put off some warmth.”

“Careful. I might melt off some of those fancy clothes you’re so fond of these days,” she coos, giving me a once-over before she looks at Cade. “Cade, I’m out. I’ll message you in a few days to find a time to meet.” Standing, she holds up her middle finger. “And, Walker…fuck off.”

Once she’s gone, Cade gives me a curious look, and I shrug.

“Think she probably just wants my dick or something. You know how it is.”

“Wow,” he mutters, shaking his head.

I can’t tell him or anyone the truth. I don’t want anyone to know where I came from. To them, I’m the rich kid from Charleston. I’m okay with that because they don’t actually know who my uncle is, and they don’t know that I grew up five minutes from here in a house that was overrun with drugs and rats. Some things are just better left in the past.

Just like Poppy Wilson.

Holding his hand up, Cade orders us a bunch of shots. And even though I really want to warn him to stay the fuck away from Poppy, I don’t. Not yet anyway. One way or another, I’ll keep them apart. Aside from practice, that is.

Holding the first shot up, he clinks his to mine, and we toss them back. I wish I could get so fucked up tonight that my brain couldn’t even begin to think about her. But I know that’s hopeless.

That girl is like a tattoo, permanently under my skin. And no matter what I do, I can’t rid myself of her. Not completely anyway.

It’s always been like a sixth sense I have, knowing when she needs me. Tonight is no different. I just woke up out of a dead sleep, consumed by the feeling in the pit of my stomach, telling me to go to her to make sure she’s okay and to rescue her if she isn’t.

After throwing on my shirt, I pull my sweatpants over my briefs and slide on my sneakers. Heading through my front door, I move quickly across the dried-out lawn and beeline it to her house.

I don’t even make it there before I can hear her somewhere outside. And in the night, I squint my eyes to follow the soft sounds of cries.

“Poppy?” I call into the night.

She sniffles, and when my eyes adjust to the darkness, I barely make out her figure as she sits against the old shed near the edge of the woods. Her knees are pulled to her chest, and her face is buried against her legs.

Running to her, I crouch down, pulling her body against mine. Her head rests against my shoulder, and I kiss her forehead.

“I’m right here,” I whisper. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

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