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Chapter 20
Poppy
“Oh my god!” Harper gasps. “Did you have to use the wasp spray? Did you do everything I told you to do? It worked, didn’t it?”
“No!” I snap, pressing the phone closer to my ear as the man in the seat next to me on the bus glances my way. “That’s not why I called.”
“But you called me four times in a row.”
“It’s an emergency, but not that kind.” I inhale, still trying to catch my breath. “Julian kissed me. I mean, he made my knees weak and my heart pound. I think I need a defibrillator on standby. It was a soul-stealing kiss.”
I hear the busy streets of Paris in the background as Harper maneuvers her way through the crowds.
“Tell me everything!” She squeals so loud I have to jerk the phone away from my ear.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m American; my voice can’t go lower than this.” She snaps at some poor soul, “And my best friend just got kissed. You should approve of the romance; you’re French! It was you all who invented the ménage à trois.”
I cover my face with my hands. Even through the phone, she managed to embarrass me.
I do my best to whisper everything that happened, but rehashing the event only makes my body tingle and my mind go into the black hole most women find themselves trapped in.
Was I a good kisser? Did my breath smell? Was I too bold or too shy?
“Do you think this is all a mistake? He’s my neighbor after all; we should keep things, well… neighborly.”
“Neighbors borrow sugar all the time. Let him get some sugar.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m serious.” I insist.
The bus stops for the second time. I only have three more stops to compose myself.
“Why are you panicking?”
“I’m not.” I lie as I wiggle on the bus seat.
“Poppy, I know you; you’re in a hyperdrive of overthinking right now. You have a man hunting you, a man you like, and one I approve of. Just let things unfold naturally.”
“I just don’t want to get hurt or make a mistake. This is supposed to be the start of my new life.”
“Getting hurt and making mistakes is living, Pops. You have been living in a shell; you have to come out of your hole and expose some skin. I don’t want you to get hurt either, and I’m doing everything I can to ensure you don’t.”
My eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh shit… Poppy, the tour I booked at the Louvre is about to start, and I still need to find my tour group.”
“You’re deflecting,” I call her bullshit. “What did you do?”
“Listen. Stop stressing. I did a little digging just to make sure your sexy-as-hell man next door isn’t a stalker with a dozen bodies buried in his closet. A simple thank you is all I need.”
I squeeze the phone so tight it might crack, “You hacked him!”
This wouldn’t be her first offense. I made the mistake of telling her about trying a dating website; five hours later, I noticed edits to my dating profile and much better photos of me uploaded. Right away, I knew it was Harper. She also filtered through the men she didn’t approve of.
Once again, our relationship isn’t conventional; Harper is my best friend, but she’s also like my mom, my embarrassing crazy aunt, and, yes, my older brother. If I knew how to hack, I'd do the same. In the age of online dating, females have to watch each other's backs.
My shoulders slump when I think about my brother. I wonder if Henry is happy now that he doesn’t have to see me daily. Does he now walk into our parents’ company with a wide grin and no longer that stern exterior?
“Hacking versus digging around is vastly different, Pops; gosh, I thought I taught you the proper terminology by now.”
