Page 35 of Keeper
Her hands drop and ball into fists at her sides. “Well, maybe we can just go back to ignoring each other like the last time.” Her voice rises a whole octave at the end.
“No! Fuck that,” I growl and jam a hand through my hair. This is not going well. I’m feeling panicky on the inside, knowing I’m not getting this right. “That’s not what I want. I just…guess…I want to know what this is. Was. What it means…to you.”
This doesn’t seem to calm her down. In fact, it seems to make things much worse. Maybe I shouldn’t have said the last part, but I worry more about Poppy’s feelings than my own. She’s much less experienced than I am…At least I think she is. I don’t know if sex means a lot to her or if she sees this as the mistake it was.
“Look, Booker. I don’t want to go back to ignoring you either. I’ve been thinking about this, and I think for the sake of our friendship, I should move out and stay with my parents until my flat is ready like I originally planned.”
My heart drops. Then leaps. Then drops again. Then runs around in circles like a distressed fucking dog. “What?” I croak, completely shocked by her suggestion and feeling a horrid ache erupt inside of me. The same ache I got the first time she left.
She looks determined. “I think if we want a chance at saving what remains of our friendship, it’s best for us both to have some space.”
“I disagree,” I bark, my distress quickly switching to anger.
She huffs out an offended, bitter sort of laugh. “Why?”
Shoulders high, I walk toward her and close the distance between us. I reach out and put my hands on her arms, trying to project an air of confidence. I want her to feel assured in what I’m saying. I want her to believe in me. In us.I need her to stay.“I think if we want a chance at saving our friendship at all, you absolutely have to stay. It’s the only way to work past it.” My jaw clenches.
Her head snaps back and forth between my two hands as she shakes loose from my hold. “Don’t you keeper me right now, Booker!” she sputters.
I pull back. “What’skeeper me?”
She huffs indignantly. “Get all big and hot and overbearing”—she uses wild gesticulations as she demonstrates—“and try to bulldoze your way through this conversation.”
Did she say hot?
I shake away the thought and purse my lips together, my eyes narrowing with frustration. “I’m not trying to keeper you. I’m trying to show you that we can get through this.”
“Work past it!” She regurgitates my words in a mocking, sing-songy voice.
Arguing with Poppy is like arguing with a beagle. Just when they try to look tough and ominous, the opposite effect occurs. I try not to smirk as I step back and cross my arms, propping myself against the doorframe. “Yes, we can work past it, Poppy. Unless of course…” I eye her nervously, wondering for the first time if in fact this could mean more to her than I’ve considered. “Unless of course this does mean something.”
“God, no,” she shakes her head, hugging herself, my shirt wrinkling around her as she does. “It means nothing.”
The words coming from her mouth don’t bring me the comfort I’d hoped for. But nothing is better than something. Nothing is safe. Nothing is drama free. Nothing keeps Poppy here. A tightness forms in my throat as I parrot, “It means nothing.”
“We simply…slipped,” she states, pursing her lips with a nod, determination etched in her jaw. “Yes, that’s what we’ll call it. A slip.”
“A slip,” I repeat through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, you’re right. I shouldn’t overthink it. Moving out would be wildly dramatic. It was just a slip. We’re not friends with benefits. We’re not fuck buddies. We…slipped. Won’t happen again.” She seems relieved now that she’s found a label for it.
I huff out a small laugh. “Whatever you want to call it.”
“Yep.” She nods, doe eyes wide and reassured.
“And you don’t want to come back to bed with me?” I ask just to be sure we really are on the same page.
Her eyes turn to slits. “No, Booker. I think I’ve slipped enough for one night, thanks.”
ITHINKIMIGHT BEin love with my best friend…again.
There’s no question about it. Making love in his bed was the best night of my life. Feeling him in me, his hands on me, his breath in my ear, his weight on top of me. It was about as close to perfection as I could ever imagine. It made those six years I buggered off to Germany to reinvent myself a bloody fucking joke.
And then afterwards happened.
Horrible, awkward, soul-shattering afterwards.
Needless to say, things at the Harris Love Shack are fucking tense. Booker and I have been quiet the last couple of days, fumbling around and trying to avoid each other without appearing like we’re trying to avoid each other. Just this morning he was making a protein shake in the kitchen and I did an accidental brush by.It really was an accident this time. He jumped backward like he’d been bitten. But then he realised how he overreacted and gave me his protein shake in apology.
