Page 18 of Keeper
This makes me snicker. She can be stubborn as a mule sometimes. Determined, I straighten my posture, looming over her even more now and trying to silently intimidate her into admission. I want to hear her fucking say it. I want to hear her say I’m great. I’m not usually a cocky sod. My ego isn’t one that needs constant attention. But fuck me, after a game like tonight, I can’t help but want praise from my best friend.
I pierce her with a challenging look. “Did you really just say whatever?”
Her tongue swipes across her glossy lips as I move in even closer. She starts twitching and murmurs so low I can barely hear her, “Are you seriously trying to keeper me right now?”
“Am I what?” I ask, not sure I heard her correctly.
Before she gets a chance to reply, Tanner’s boots clack up behind Belle. He cops a feel and she squeals, turning and whacking him on the chest. The two kiss for a bit longer than is appropriate, but no one seems to mind.
Then, all of the sudden, Poppy gets a tap on her shoulder.
“Jaysus Christ, Sugar Pop. I thought that was you!” An Irish voice bellows from behind us.
Poppy and I both turn to look at the man who is addressing my friend so casually. He wraps his inked arms around her trim waist and pulls her into a hug, lifting her off the ground before kissing the top of her head.
“Oh my God, Nigel! What are you doing here?” Poppy exclaims, her face the picture of shock.
“I’m just over with a few of the lads to catch a match,” he answers, his Irish lilt thick and heavy. “One last hurray before we join the working stiffs and earning a proper wage.” He chuckles and strokes his long beard.
I already don’t like him. He’s a hipster personified with his ten-inch beard and curls on the ends of his mustache. It’s too much. He’s trying too hard. It looks like he tried to rough up his appearance with copious amounts of ink and piercings. None of it looks authentic.
“I can hardly believe it,” he scoffs, shaking his head. His eyes rake down Poppy’s body in a familiar way that raises my hackles. “What are the odds of running into each other at a footy game of all places? What brings you here?”
I brush up against Poppy, indicating in no uncertain terms that I want to be introduced. If this guy is after her, he needs to know I’ve got her back.
Poppy clears her throat and looks up at me nervously. “This is my friend, Booker Harris.”
“The goalie!” Nigel’s eyes fly wide. “Wow, I didn’t know you knew him. Hey, pal, brilliant save out there with that penalty kick. Feck me, that’s highlight-worthy shite right there.”
He reaches out to shake my hand. Maybe he’s not all bad, but my brows are still furrowed as I reply, “Thanks. How do you two—”
“Sugar Pop and I met at Uni.” Nigel tosses his arm jovially around her shoulders, pulling her into him and away from me. “We were having the craic at this party we were both at, and I couldn’t take me eyes off her.”
My jaw tightens as I watch how he holds her. It’s a familiar embrace, like he’s touched her before. I look him up and down, and my eyes lock on his lip piercing. Then it dawns on me. I look at Poppy, who’s still a ball of nerves. I glance down at her breast and then back to her eyes. It’s confirmed.
This wanker pierced Poppy.
“Do yous have time to grab a pint, Pop?” Nigel asks with a smirk. “I’d love to catch up.”
She smiles and squirms under his arm. “You know, Nigel, I’m really busy. I have a job here in London and my schedule is full I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Nigel whines. “Well, I’m here until Tuesday. You have my number, so give me a ring if your schedule lightens up.”
“Sure, sure,” she replies. “Either way, it was great running into you.” She gives him a quick hug and all but pushes him away as he strides over to rejoin his friends.
That was fucking interesting.
Poppy seems to be avoiding eye contact with me as she says her goodbyes to my family and excuses herself.
As I watch her leave, I can’t help but wonder more about what Poppy got up to in Germany.
BRINGINGPOPPY BACK TO THEHarris house feels like a blast from the past. Seeing her walk through the foyer again makes it feel like nothing has changed. Sure she has more curves than she used to. And her hair is shorter. And she has a fucking nipple ring that I’m about ninety-nine percent sure that prat Nigel had something to do with. But when she walks into my dad’s kitchen and he sweeps her up in a big hug, it’s like the world makes sense again.
“And how are your parents?” Dad asks Poppy as he pulls a stool out for her at the counter.
“They are great. Dad’s still running the veterinary clinic with Mum right alongside him. My sister is married now, and they live in Oxford. Other than that, things have been quite boring.”
Dad chuckles. “You know, we live close enough you’d think I’d see them from time to time, but I’m afraid football is all I make time for. I should try harder.”
