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Well, I don’t like the memories his face dragged up.
She unwraps her hands and leans closer to me; I feel her breath whisper over my cheek like a summer breeze cooling me off. My nostrils flare.
Fuck she smells good. Did she use that pumpkin spice body wash? Did she use it everywhere?
“I don’t like crowds, or bars, or parties. I’m more of a quiet restaurant kind of girl. Please don’t tell Harper that, though.”
She pulls away, and I’m left with a flurry of questions. First, I don’t like that she is doing something that makes her uncomfortable to please her friend.
“Why can’t you tell Harper?”
“I’m trying to be the person I used to be.” She bites her bottom lip, which is coated with a clear gloss.
“Life is about moving forward, not backward.”
Poppy flashes a sad smile, “Harper said something similar.”
“Why not tell her you don't like crowds then?”
She grabs her beer and plays with the glass, and I imagine her fingers playing with my body, “Well, if I were a good neighbor, I’d tell you it has nothing to do with pleasing Harper. Harper likes to drag me out of my comfort zone, but she knows my limits.”
I lean closer, “So why did you come then?”
"If I were being an honest neighbor, I'd tell you I came because I wanted to see you.” She keeps her eyes on the glass, too shy to look my way. It’s adorable.
She did something that made her uncomfortable all because she wanted to see me. Shit! That makes me feel both guilty and thrilled.
“Well, as a good neighbor myself, I’d tell you that next time, we will have drinks in a place that makes you comfortable, but I am happy you came.” It’s not a lie. I feel like I’m a teenager again; I’m confused, nervous, and excited that the girl I’m interested in likes me.
She flips her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and I get hit with that spiced floral scent again.
Screw the consequences. I like my neighbor; I like her a lot, and I’m going to explore those feelings. If things go south, I’ll deal with the aftermath later. I can always move.
“Did you use it?” I ask. All the blood leaves my brain and flows south. My dick is in control, and he has to get his answers.
Her brows inch up, “Use what?”
“The shower gel.” My eyes roam over her delicious-scented body.
What does it make her taste like?
Her face grows beet red, “You can’t ask me that.” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip.
I grab my beer, raise it to my hungry lips, and grin, “I’m asking as a friendly neighbor, Pumpkin. Friends can ask those sorts of questions.” I grin. “Can I borrow some sugar? What body wash did you use? Etc."
She tilts her head, trying to look all serious. I’ve seen her make the same face towards Harper when she is trying to make her civilized.
“Don’t you dare start calling me that.” She grabs her drink and takes a sip, trying to hide her smirk.
“I can call you Pumpkin puss puss instead,” I smirk as I watch her react. She jerks, and her drink spits out from her mouth and onto the table.
A laugh slips free as my abs clench. She’s adorable. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.” I edge closer. I can’t resist a lot when it comes to you, Poppy.
“That was evil, but Harper would approve.” She wipes her mouth and tries to cover a grin.
I shake my head, “I think that’s the perfect nickname for you.”
“What’s the perfect nickname?” Harper shouts as she and Kent slide back into their seats. I don't miss how Harper's lips look redder and swollen. I eye my brother.
