by Mariah Dietz
Our kiss becomes less frantic as I slant my mouth over hers, memorizing and exploring her lips like it’s the first time we’ve kissed. I taste her with my tongue, and she leans her head back and parts her lips as she releases a quiet moan that has my cock hardening as I become instantly addicted to the sound. I kiss her again, losing that sense of control I’d just managed to gain. I invade her mouth, desperate to hear her moan again. I kiss her like a starved man eating his first meal, with the enthusiasm of a child seeing his first snow, and with the same desire of a boy trying to be a man and carry the dreams of his team on his shoulders.
Poppy reaches her arms around the back of my neck, pulling me closer, feeling that same yearning and intoxication that is swallowing me. I gently nip at her bottom lip and then stroke my tongue against hers as I reach beneath the layers of her coats, finding her bare flesh with my fingers. She grants me a moan, her lips pressing against mine with the same franticness as she leans more firmly against me. I skate my fingers higher, feeling her hot skin against my palm as my fingers graze against her ribs. She gasps as her hands constrict around the back of my neck, and she kisses me harder, her tongue warring with mine. I trace the underside of her bra, and Poppy releases another moan as her body softens at my touch.
“Pax,” she whispers my name, and it’s like a shot of adrenaline—blinding and consuming.
I think of all the reasons I’ve been clinging to for why this line shouldn’t be crossed, that she’s Rae’s best friend, and my friend, and that I’m not stable enough to take care of myself, much less someone else, and then those large green eyes meet mine, and I forget about every viable excuse.
The door beside us crashes open, swinging so hard, I have to lift my arm before it hits us.
“My bad,” Billy, my teammate says, wincing as he realizes it’s me, and more importantly, what he’s just interrupted.
“You’re going to hate me, but Coach is looking for you. I might be able to buy you five minutes,” he says.
“I thought we were done for the night?” I ask.
Billy shrugs, throwing both hands up. “All I know is the team’s looking for you.”
Check-in. So much for a lack of babysitters.
“Tell him I’ll be right up.”
Billy nods and ducks back into the hallway, his eyes never moving to Poppy. It’s a matter of respect, one that I have no doubt she’s misreading as she straightens her coat and tucks her hands into her pockets.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, without even realizing what all I’m apologizing for—kissing her, trying to cross the next boundary with her, the fact I did it in a public setting again, where someone saw her in a compromising position. I shove my fingers into my hair. “I have to check in with Coach. He probably wants to make sure I haven’t raided the minibar.”
To my surprise, Poppy grins. “I thought that was my job?”
“It will probably take fifteen minutes, and then I’ll be up.”
The door to the stairs opens again, and Raegan and Lincoln appear. “There you are,” Lincoln says. “I was calling you, and it was going straight to voicemail.”
“My phone’s dead.”
Lincoln nods, his gaze critical as he searches for clues that I’m lying.
“You guys want to order some food?” Rae asks. “It’s freezing outside, and they said it’s taking forty minutes or longer to get a car right now, and all the restaurants are packed.”
“The heater isn’t working in the hotel,” Poppy adds.
Rae balks and then laughs. “This adventure hasn’t been anything like what Chloe and Nessie described from their explorations.”
“You realize Banks owns a chain of the nicest hotels in the world, right?” I ask my sister.
She looks at Lincoln. “I might have to trade you in.”
Lincoln laughs, reaching for her. It’s these moments when I witness their carefree and easy relationship when the discomfort of having my best friend and sister dating becomes bearable.
“My room is three-forty-two,” Rae tells me. “Two knocks, then one, then two again.”
I shake my head. “I’m not doing that.”
She grins. “Three-forty-two,” she repeats, linking her arm with Poppy’s and foiling any idea of things going any further.
24
Poppy
My entire body is wound tight as I take a seat on the couch in the living room section of the room. Desire that had been spinning tales of pleasure and relief was brought to a boiling point and then abandoned. I’m still recalling the feeling of Paxton’s hands on my bare skin, the strength of his body, and the way he reacted to every kiss and sound, there’s a pressure between my legs, in my stomach, and in my chest that has me wishing to make an excuse to escape to my room.
“What sounds good to you?” Rae asks, glancing at me from where she’s sitting on the bed beside Lincoln. The rooms are spacious, offering a mid-sized living room with a couch and desk and then a small partition that blocks part of the king-sized bed from view. The bathroom is large and tiled, and the closet is bigger than mine and Rae’s combined in our apartment. It’s not a Banks Hotel, but it’s still nice.
“I’m not very hungry,” I tell her.
Rae turns her attention to Lincoln, and they discuss several options as we wait for Paxton. Lincoln asks about our day. The two talk about tomorrow’s game. We talk about food again, and I’m about to think Paxton is pulling a Chase and ghosting me when I hear two quick knocks followed by one slower ones and then two quick bursts again.
My lips curl with an involuntary smile. Paxton has a playful side that is both refreshing and entertaining, considering so many guys seem to be trying to prove how mature they are—until they get around their friends and they turn immature and talk about the same things Dylan and his friends do. Pax isn’t afraid to be himself. He might be the most authentic and genuine person I’ve ever known aside from Rae.
I’m on my feet and three steps toward the door before I feel Rae’s attention on me, questions in her knowing gaze. I have no doubt she’s currently reading the anticipation that has hit me hard and fast with the simple knock. She offers a gentle smile that is difficult for me to read, likely because my mind is preoccupied, sorting through dozens of feelings and emotions that feel like they’re caught in a small dust storm, moving around too fast and unable to settle.
I open the door and Pax’s gaze meets mine, another silent search and silent conversation that breaks too soon.
“Everything okay?” Lincoln asks.
Paxton nods. “We were just going over plays and shit.”
“Again?”
Pax nods and pulls out his cell phone. “Do either of you have your charger? I need to get some juice into this thing. I felt like a total dick telling you it would be fifteen minutes and taking two hours instead.” He looks at me and I know full and well that it’s me he was worried about.
“Yeah,” Raegan grabs his phone and moves toward the nightstand where her charger is already plugged in.
“Did you guys decide what you want to do for dinner?” Pax asks, moving so that he’s beside me. His arm brushes against mine, and I smell his cologne. A sigh runs through my body, curling my toes.
“We already ordered because most places were saying it was going to be at least an hour,” Rae explains. “I hope Italian sounds good to you.”
Pax rubs his hands together. “Sounds great.”
I worry that things will be awkward, that Rae will start to have the very same recognition I’m beginning to face—that I have feelings for her brother. Big, complex feelings that feel woven into my life and thoughts and memories. I glance at Paxton, whose hands dangle between his thighs as he exchanges conversation with Lincoln regarding their plans for the morning, and I worry he’s changed his mind and is regretting our stolen moment in the stairwell.
His blue eyes shift to mine, and I have to force myself not to look away as my nerves ratchet even higher. He moves a hand to my thigh, combin
g his fingers softly but firmly against the denim, through my skin and straight to my soul. I feel him so intensely that it seems impossible. “Are you okay?” His words are too soft for the others to hear over the TV.
I swallow audibly and offer a small nod that his watchful eyes read as he takes a fresh inventory. His brow pinches, reading my lie. He glances toward Rae and Lincoln, who are watching a show and laughing about something. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just… What happened earlier … it doesn’t have to be anything,” I say quietly, my attention darting to Rae to ensure she’s not hearing this. His eyes narrow like he’s trying to understand my vague half-statement. “I mean, if you just got caught up in the excitement and the weekend and … I’m cool with that. I know the rules.”
“Fuck the rules,” he says too loudly, drawing the curious gazes of both Rae and Lincoln.
Heat blazes across my cheeks, reaching all the way to my ears as Pax stares at me with unabashed confidence. I’m positive I’m reading too much into his words and the way his fingers are pressed against me like he’s trying to still my thoughts and time and force me to listen. He can’t possibly mean what I think he does—that these feelings are worth the gamble and risk, that we’ve had these emotions for years and have allowed them to lie dormant—but a part of me wants to believe these stories I tell myself so badly my throat goes tight.
Someone knocks on the door, interrupting the moment before either of us is able to fully convince the other, breaking our stare.
At the door is our dinner, carrying scents of alfredo, sautéed garlic and onions, and marinara. We gather around the living room area with our takeout containers of pasta with Raegan beside me on the couch and Lincoln and Pax in the two desk chairs.
“I meant to tell you, Tuesday, I have to work late,” Rae tells me. “We’re doing an open house at the aquarium.”
We always have dinner together on Tuesdays. I go grocery shopping in the afternoon, then I pretend to help her make dinner, and we talk about our days and catch up on what’s happening in each other’s lives. “I suppose I can allow it,” I tease. “It actually works out. I’m supposed to meet with my advisor. I think she’s getting restless since I haven’t declared a major yet.”
Lincoln pulls his chin back. “I thought you declared in September?”
I shake my head. “I changed my mind. I like political science, but I’m just not sure that I want to major in it.”
“What are you going to tell her?” Rae asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve been considering teaching.”
Paxton looks at me, the hint of a smile hitting all of his features at once, blinding and distracting me from Rae’s initial reaction.
“...I think you’d make an amazing teacher,” she says.
“But what if I get stuck with our sixth-grade class?” I ask her.
“Your sixth-grade class?” Pax asks.
Raegan crows with laughter. “It was so bad. Literally, the worst class ever.”
I nod. “It was a train-wreck. We went through three teachers that year.”
“The two of you or your entire class?” Lincoln asks.
Rae rolls her eyes, but humor twists her lips. “Poppy and I were the only good kids in the class. There were fights, a walk-out, one kid bit the teacher...”
“What?” Pax laughs, but it’s more out of disbelief and surprise.
“Don’t you remember, Mom was furious because some kids were caught cheating? They’d stolen test results from the teacher, and they learned she’d been having a relationship with one of the kids’ dads.”
“Vaguely,” he recalls.
“It was a bad year. I learned nothing and paid for it dearly the next year,” I say. Our private school went through an entire revamp because of that year and our single class.
Raegan nods. “It was brutal. But, we learned a lot about jerks and cheats and mean girls.”
“It kind of scarred me,” I admit.
Rae grins. “It scarred us all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I still have a scar from where I got hit by a book someone threw across the room.” She spears a piece of shrimp. “But, you have to think about this from a statistical standpoint.” She glances at Lincoln, who helped her with her statistics class last year. “Since you’ve already experienced a nightmare of a class, your chances of experiencing it again have already dropped exponentially. Regardless, you should probably just avoid the sixth grade. I’m pretty sure that grade level is just the year all kids test being assholes.”
“I told her she should talk to Mom about it,” Pax says.
Raegan nods. “You totally should. She’d be able to give you a lot of insight. And teaching would allow you other growth opportunities if you decide you’re interested in things like administration or a principal.” She points her fork at me. “Or, you can come study cetology with me.” She makes her eyebrows dance.
“Make sure Rae doesn’t jump off any more boats,” Lincoln says between bites.
Rae rolls her eyes. “She’d jump with me.”
“God, you’re totally right,” Lincoln groans, covering his face with one hand. “Sorry, Poppy, you’re becoming a teacher. Also, you should probably just avoid middle school as a whole, and probably high school as well because they’re kind of assholes, too, and you’re too hot to be a high school teacher.”
“That would work to your advantage, though,” Rae says. “The boys would all be paying attention to everything you were saying,” she says.
Pax laughs, his eyes bright with amusement.
“I don’t want to teach high school or middle school. I don’t know what age I’d want to teach. Part of me wants to just have young, adorable, innocent kids, and I can finger paint and read them stories and teach them about dinosaurs. And then I also think it could be fun to teach kids who are a little older and help expose them to every side of a story and help them realize that there’s rarely a clear or definitive answer to any question and help them open their eyes to things.”
“You’d be good at that,” Rae tells me. “Help break down some of the assumptions we’re all exposed to.”
“Exactly. Plus, I can influence the girls while they’re young and teach them to avoid all athletes and date those drummers that their moms are going to warn them about in a few years.”
Raegan cackles. “It will never work. Look how long Paxton’s been warning us away from athletes.”
Lincoln looks like the cat who swallowed the canary as he leans back in his chair, his full attention on Rae.
“I didn’t say all athletes,” Paxton says.
“Yes, you did,” Raegan and I say at the same time.
“So many times,” she says.
“So many times.” I echo.
“It was still solid advice,” he says. “We’re exceptions.”
Raegan and I laugh, though he’s kind of right. After dating—or whatever—Chase last year, athletes left a bad taste in my mouth, and I wasn’t about to repeat the same mistake. Yet, here I am, in an entirely different scenario, feeling a world apart from the feelings I experienced last year.
“How is it already ten?” Raegan asks.
I gather my garbage. “I should go. I need to go get more blankets before they’re out. It’s already starting to get cold.”
“You know what they say is the best way to stay warm?” Lincoln asks, glancing at Raegan with intention and playfulness shining in his eyes.
“That’s my cue to leave,” I say, standing. “Want me to take the garbage and dump it in the trash by the elevator so your room doesn’t smell like shrimp scampi and alfredo?” I ask.
“Please,” Rae says, standing and helping me gather the remaining garbage and shoving it all back into the bag it had arrived in.
“I should get going too,” Pax says. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He grabs the bag of trash, then collects his phone and heads to the door while I put my coat back on.
“I’ll text you in the morning. Depending on w
hat the ride situation is, maybe we can go grab breakfast? We’ll probably want to head to the stadium early,” Raegan says as she wraps an arm around Lincoln’s waist and tucks in close to him.
I nod. “Sounds good.”
The door closes behind Pax and me, and that spark of desire that I’ve been trying to ignore for the past several hours flares as Paxton takes my hand and threads our fingers together.
“Sorry our dinner didn’t work out.”
I shrug. “I had fun tonight.”
He grins. “Me too.”
The elevator doors slide open, and we step inside, our hands parting as I reach forward to hit the lobby button. We ride down in silence, a million thoughts and questions bouncing around in my head. Ones about what happens next and if there is, in fact, a next.
We head to the front desk, where a line of people are already gathered.
“I can’t believe this,” a man in front of us grumbles. “It’s winter. How can their furnace be broken? It's freezing.” He throws his hands in the air. “And they ran out of extra blankets.”
Pax winces and nods for me to follow him back toward the elevators.
“How cold do you think it’s going to get?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Let’s stop by my room. We can take my bedding and bring it up to yours.”
