Page 13 of Last Boy

As they walk away, I notice they are heading toward the sign where the bus stops a few times an hour. And then it hits me—they must have been wasting time until the next bus comes. She doesn’t have a car, and I don’t know if he drives or not.

Having an internal battle with myself, I wish I could just give him a ride and leave her ass at the bus stop. No, that’s not fucking true. As much as I want to hate her, the thought of her on the bus drives me insane.

“Do you guys need a lift?” I call behind them and watch her face contort into pure annoyance.

“No,” she says at the same time her brother yells, “Yes, please.”

As he heads toward me, she grabs his hand. “J, we planned to ride the bus. We like the bus. Right?”

“No one likes the bus,” he says matter-of-factly. “I want to ride with Walker. He probably has a big truck.”

I cringe because I do indeed have a big, very fancy truck now. And the thought of Poppy seeing it while she’s been spending her days taking the bus places makes me feel like fucking shit.

He grins when she reluctantly releases his arm, and he heads toward me. “Which truck is yours?”

Grimacing inside, I point to the blacked-out Chevy on the end. “That black one right there.”

Wasting no time, he heads toward it.

And slowly, she starts toward where I’m still standing. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but pick another person. Don’t bring Jake into whatever fucked up game you’re playing.”

“What the hell are you even saying?” I scowl at her, holding my arms out. “It’s a fucking ride home. If you don’t like it, don’t come with us.”

She looks amused—and angry—by my words. “Oh…oh, wow. You really think I’d let your selfish ass be responsible for getting him home? You didn’t seem to care much about him before tonight. So, no. I’ll be riding with you tonight, asshole. But know this: Don’t mess with my brother. Or you’ll regret it.”

I stand tall, and she finally looks at me. Though it’s not the look I’m used to. Her eyes have always been filled with pain. But now…that pain is replaced with something worse.

Hate.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you, Poppyseed?” I toss my head back. “Funny. Nice to see you’re still bitchy.”

“Nice to see you’re still a douche,” she sasses back before pushing past me and heading toward my truck. “Oh, and glad to see your uncle gave you everything you ever wanted,” she mutters. “Guess all of your dreams have come true.”

As she climbs into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind her, I drag my hand over my face. Five minutes. Five fucking minutes, and she’s already driving me insane.

Before I left Sunset Drive, she looked at me like I’d hung the moon and all the stars. Now…well, now, she looks at me like she does every other human being. With absolute loathing and disappointment.

I’m supposed to hate her. She’s supposed to be dead to me. But right now, the way my heart is racing from her sweet cinnamon scent hitting my nose when she walked by or the way her plump lips just mouthed off, sending a jolt right to my cock…it doesn’t feel like hate.

Poppy

Luckily, Walker says it’s late, so he’ll see Jake’s place another day. I didn’t want to have to go inside the apartment and visit any more tonight. This entire ride has been spent with Jake and him chatting and me staring out the window, reminding myself how much I love my big brother.

As we drop Jake off in front of his door, I push my door open and climb out, slamming it quickly. I wait for Jake to say his good-byes, and once he does, he exits the truck and comes and hugs me.

“Thanks for taking me,” he says, slowly releasing me. “I’m sorry if tonight made you sad.”

I give him a small smile and shake my head. “No, no. It was fun. We will do it again.”

He and I went to a lot of Brooks football games, but never hockey, until tonight.

I’d rather go watch the golf team all day before attending another hockey game. But I’m not going to piss in his Cheerios and tell him that.

Once he heads inside, I awkwardly walk past Walker’s truck and head toward the bus stop, unsure why he isn’t leaving.

“Poppy, what the fuck are you doing?” Walker says from his now-open window.

Ignoring him, I pull my hood up and keep walking until I’m under the streetlight before sitting on the bench. Pulling my phone out, I see the next bus will arrive in about nine minutes. If Walker continues to sit in the parking lot across the way, staring at me, this will make for a really freaking awkward wait.

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