Page 86 of Home Field Advantage
Poppy is the high you crave with every fiber of your being.You need it more than your next breath, even though you know you’re going to crash in the end.
I lift my hand to knock, but it opens before I have the chance.
“Dallas,” she breathes out softly, almost as if she’s been waiting for me.
As my eyes trail up her body, my breath catches in my throat. She has a smile on her face—a welcoming and friendly one. Alarm bells ring in my head that I shouldn’t be here. I need to stop putting myself in these positions with her before I cross a line that she will despise me for.
I’m playing with fire.
But I’ll gladly burn myself over and over again with her.
She steps back, opening the door wider, allowing me into her space. And I follow, because I’m learning that I’ll follow Poppy anywhere.
There’s a shift in the air the moment I cross the threshold of her front door. It’s something I can’t quite explain. It feels like exhaling after you’ve been holding your breath for so long. It’s not about the decorations, the furniture, or the lighting. It’s deeper than that. It’s like my nervous system recognizes the space before my mind does. The stillness wraps around me, but it doesn’t feel cold. It feels warm like a thick blanket.
It feels like…home.
Poppy disappears down the hall without a word. My eyes settle on the corner setup she has, with a lamp hanging over a table and a single chair. A puzzle is scattered across it as if she just recently started a new one. Walking over to it with the comfort her space brings, I pick up a piece, assessing what she’s started. The one piece I picked up is the missing puzzle piece for a small corner section she’s been working on. Smiling, I put it in, letting it fit perfectly.
When she returns with a cardigan over her T-shirt, I clear my throat as if I’ve been caught.
“I thought you weren’t any good at those?” Poppy smirks.
With a smile growing on my face, I shrug. “I’ve been practicing with that puzzle you brought over for Sage.”
“You what?”
“I figured if it’s something you like to do, that I could learn to like it, too.”
“And?”
“It’s oddly therapeutic. I don’t hate it,” I say with a chuckle.
“That…makes me oddly happy,” she admits.
Damn, the hold she has on me tightens. I don’t move from where I stand because if I do, I’ll end up throwing her over my shoulder, finding her bedroom, and having my way with her like I’ve been so desperate to do.
“Listen, Poppy. I didn’t mean to intrude on your night like this, but I wanted to talk about earlier at the bar.”
Her lips part, and her eyes widen, but she catches herself, schooling her features to remain neutral. “You don’t have to explain anything. I get it. Alcohol sometimes makes you say things you don’t mean.”
Is that what she thinks?
Does she think everything I said about it not being the right place, the right time, was because of alcohol?
She averts her gaze, making herself busy by folding the blanket she had on the couch and draping it neatly over the back corner.
“Poppy,” I say, begging for her attention to be back on me. Begging her to look at me.
She spins around, eyes meeting mine, and they’re…glassy?
No. It can’t be.
“I understand, Dallas.”
“Poppy,” I say her name much softer this time, meeting her where she stands. “Is that what you think?”
She closes her eyes, chest rising and falling as she sighs.
