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“Hey,” he says with a voice as soft as his kisses last night.
I peek out from under my pretend vacuum, locking eyes with him.
“I don’t hate you either.”
My heart hitches in my chest. Before I can respond, he puts his finger to my lips, then quickly replaces it with a long, hard kiss.
It’s impossible not to dissolve under his touch. It clears my head and any worry or fear I have disappears in a puff of smoke.
He pins me with one more lingering stare, amber eyes swirling with darkness, then he leaves.
His touch clears my head of everything except one stubborn thought.
That kiss felt very final.
Poppy
I stare down at the phone in my hand.
It feels like a relic, not only because it’s so damn old, but because it’s a symbol of lifebefore.
Who am I going to call first?
Authorities would be the obvious choice, but one I’m not even considering for a million and one reasons. Two of those reasons come to mind straight away. The first being that if what Sam said is true—not that I can trust anything that ever came out of his stupid mouth now—and Lorcandidhave some sort of control of the Stanford police department, then I’m pretty sure he has control over the police in his own turf.
The second is that after last night, I don’t think Iwantto call the authorities.
A shiver of bliss rolls over me and I tug my cardigan tighter around me.
Nellie. Yes, I’m going to call my best friend and let her know I’m okay.
Her cell number is burnt into my retinas. She had it taped to the back wall of her desk in big red writing under the words,Don’t forget to call me!
Why? Because if her one-night stand woke up before her, he wouldn’t have to wake her up to get her number for a second date.
I tap out the digits with trembling fingers; nerves bubbling in my stomach.
The line clicks after two rings. “Yes?”
A laugh escapes me in a weird hissing noise at the sound of my best friend’s rude greeting.
“Nellie, how many times have I told you not to answer the phone like that? An unknown number isn’t always a telemarketer, you know. I could have been from the college or from—”
I’m rambling; I do that when I’m nervous sometimes.
“Poppy?” Comes her strangled voice down the line. “Holy shit, Poppy, is thatyou?”
I grip the phone tighter, squeezing my eyes shut. “It’s me, Nel.”
“Jesus. Hold on, girl. I need to go and sit down before my legs give in.” There’s rustling and footsteps and a door slamming. “Okay. Fucking hell, Pop. Start from the beginning.”
Yeah. I probably won’t start with the fact I got drugged and kidnapped by an Irish mafia boss on my nineteenth birthday. Or that the only surprise was that the whole ordeal was a year late.
So, I stick with my half-truth, half-lie concoction. “Well, first off, I’m so sorry.”True.“I upped and left without a word, without thinking about how worried you’d be.”Lie.I stressed about how worried Nellie would be over endless sleepless nights when I first got here.
Her sigh is dramatic. “Yeah, a sticky note would have been nice, you know? Oh—and rent. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve had to pay all of the rent myself!”
I inwardly cringe. “Jeez. I’ll send you a check.”
