Page 54 of Last Boy

Stopping in front of the elevator, I can tell she’s uneasy, being in a place this fancy. Especially looking the way that she does in the Wolves hoodie and sweatpants I grabbed for her from my dorm before we headed to South Carolina last night.

The doors to the elevator open, and out walk two middle-aged women, all dressed up with their hair perfectly curled. They openly gawk at her face, not so much with empathy because of her bruises, but more with disgust. Especially when their eyes rake over her attire.

“You should see the other guy,” Poppy mutters with a small smirk before brushing past them and onto the elevator.

Following behind her, I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head.

“Real funny, Poppyseed. Real funny.” I press the button for the twelfth floor, and the doors quickly close.

“What?” She shrugs. “They were staring. Staring is rude.” She sighs. “They look like their names would be, like…Margaret and Eloise or something. Stuck up and offended by everything.” She pats her legs. “They don’t know what they are missing. Sweatpants are life.”

She has a point there. They did look like they’d be like that. Then again, I bet ninety percent of the people in here look like that too.

Her eyes widen when we step out of the elevator after the doors open.

“There are only two doors up here? Which means…” Her voice stops.

“A penthouse suite. And before you get even more annoyed, I only did it because it seemed the safest. Plus, this way, Hudson will have the room next door.” I shrug. “No matter if we stayed at the sketchy Super 8 downtown or the most expensive place in the area, my uncle was going to keep the deal the same. I figured…fuck it. Might as well make it nice. Right?”

“So, this Hudson dude isn’t going to stay in the same room as me then, right?” She raises an eyebrow. “That’s what you’re saying.”

Rearing my head back, I scowl. “Fuck no, he’s not staying in a room with you.”

I trust Hudson. I really do. But the dude is attractive. And covered in tats. And pure muscle. So, no, he isn’t staying in a room with my girl while I’m gone.

“Walker, this all seems too—”

Putting my hand on the small of her back, I lead her to the door and flash the key card in front of the black pad. When it blinks green, I open the door and usher her in.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, walking through the kitchen and into the living room. Looking out the windows for a few seconds, she quickly heads toward the bedroom. “Wow. This is the nicest bathtub I’ve ever seen,” I hear her call out. “There are those fuzzy robes. The ones I’ve seen in movies.”

Moments later, she emerges. Only now, with her eyes narrowed and a hand on her hip.

“You said that Hudson will be here when you can’t be. So, let me get this straight. Since Hudson gets the room next door, that means you’re staying there when he’s gone. Correct? Because there’s only one bed. And…yeah. Not happening.”

“What’s not happening?” I ask, amused.

“You. And me. In a bed. We’re not sleeping together. Like, not sleeping together. As in real sleep. And we’re not…you know, hooking up.” She stops, clearly flustered. “So, anyway, you’re staying in the other room. Right?”

“First off, we already did sleep together. And I enjoyed it, in case you were wondering. And second, no,” I say as I walk over to the window and look out at the parking lot. “I’m staying here. With you. Will that be a problem, Poppyseed?”

“Umm…yes. Yes, it will.” She stomps her foot down. “We can’t…you know…do what we did,” she whispers.

“Why are you whispering?” I grin. “Who exactly are you afraid is going to hear you?”

Even with the bruises, I can see her face turn red.

“Shut up.”

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she presses the side button to turn it on. And within seconds, it’s vibrating like crazy as messages come through.

She looks anxious, chewing on her bottom lip. We’ve spent enough time together that I’m confident she doesn’t have a boyfriend. But some of those messages coming through could be from guys. And I don’t fucking like that.

“I’m going to go into the bedroom and make some phone calls,” she says softly. “I need to figure out everything with the school and with Jolene too.”

“I emailed the school from your phone last night,” I say casually. “They said they’d pass the message on to Jolene.”

She’s pissed now. Stomping toward me like a kid who wants a lollipop or some shit.

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