Read Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) Online

Authors: J.A. DeRouen

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Wings Over Poppies (Over #2) (5 page)

BOOK: Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)
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She drops my arm and stalks away angrily. I know I’m a bitch, but at this point, I’m too far-gone to give a good shit. I know she’s trying to help, but I can’t drown out the events of the night or the porn show in the corner if she keeps looking at me with pity in her eyes.

I turn back to the dance floor and get lost in the music. I close my eyes, raise my arms, and sway to the steady beat coursing through me.

The alcohol serves to dampen my hurt from a crushing blow to a dull ache, and I’m taking full advantage. I know my inevitable meltdown is looming, but I’m happy to postpone the sob-fest for a while longer.

Out of nowhere, I feel an arm snake around my waist and rocking hips match my rhythm. I turn my head to find a guy with long, wavy blond hair and the hint of a tribal tattoo creeping out of the collar of his shirt. I vaguely remember him from the country club. His name is Cole, and I’m pretty sure he plays golf with Jason and Will on occasion. He’s cute … blurry, but cute. He’ll do the trick.

I raise my arms and link them behind his neck, letting my fingers curl into his hair. He approves, and lets me know by running his hands up and down my arms before they take up residence on my hips. He squeezes affectionately, inadvertently reminding me how I saw West squeezing …
No. Stop it.
I push the thought away and throw myself whole-heartedly into dancing with Cole.

He swivels me around to face him, and I feel the wall meet my back as he grinds into me with purpose. When did we leave the dance floor?

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you were out there. You are so damn sexy.” He sweeps his nose across my collarbone and up to my ear. I might want this … everything is moving at a rapid pace, so I just can’t be sure. If only I had one minute for my foggy mind to catch up with my body’s demands.

His lips attack mine roughly and without pretense. I’m not that naïve; I know what he wants. It’s exhilarating to know he wants it from me. I’ve spent these past few months practically begging West to see me this way, so I soak up the attention like an eager little sponge.

His kisses taste of stale cigarettes and whiskey, but I push the thought away and kiss him back anyway. Until he’s no longer there.

A rush of air sweeps over me, and my eyes flutter in confusion. I reach behind and grab the wall for balance. As my fingers touch the sheet rock, I feel the vibrations of Cole’s back slamming into the wall right beside me.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, dipshit? You stay the hell away from her, or I will end you, do you hear me?” West roars threateningly, and I instinctively recoil in response. His lips are curled in anger and revulsion, and his hands grip Cole’s collar tightly. West slams him into the wall again, and he raises his hands in protest.

“Jesus, chill out, West! We were just having a good time. She wasn’t complaining, all right.” Cole winces and tries his best to extricate himself from West’s grasp.

“She couldn’t say a fucking word with your tongue jammed down her throat!”

“Look, I’m sorry. I thought y’all were just friends. No hard feelings, man.” Cole starts slowly backing away, taking advantage of West’s loosened grip. As he backs away, he gives me a small, apologetic smile. I should apologize to him, but I’m too stunned by the events that have unfolded.

While the boys may have calmed down, I’ve become stone-cold sober in a matter of seconds and seriously freaking pissed. Taking a play out of West’s book, I shove him into the wall with all of my might. Unfortunately for me, pushing West is equivalent to moving a brick wall, which only serves to piss me off more.

“Who in the hell do you think you are? You’ve got no right, West!”

“He had his hands all over you, Alex! Do you really expect me to sit here and do nothing?”

“Yes!”

West shakes his head and grabs the back of his neck in annoyance.

“Emmett would have done the exact same thing.” West raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to admit that he’s made a valid point.

He doesn’t even realize that his words crush me, leaving an indelible gash on my heart.
I am that pesky little sister to him.

“Right … okay,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “God, I’m such a fool.”

“What did you say?” He moves closer, obviously not hearing me.

I feel the prying eyes of everyone in the room, and I burn with embarrassment.
A true lady never makes a scene, Alexandra. There’s a time a place for everything. Poise is prudent, darling.
This is one instance where I actually agree with my mother.

Without answering him, I turn on my heel and make a mad dash to the nearest exit. I desperately need to escape these four walls that slowly close in with every word West utters.

I shove open the back door and take a deep breath of the muggy night air.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry,” I whisper to myself like a mantra, looking up to the stars for strength. Then I realize I have no idea where Holly went.

“Shit.”

The metal screen door clangs behind me, and I quickly turn away.

“Poppy, what the hell is going on?” West grabs my arm gently to turn me around, and I jerk away from his touch.


Don’t
call me that!”

“What do you mean? That’s what I always call you. I’m sorry you’re mad, but I wasn’t gonna sit there and watch him paw at you. That guy is nowhere near good enough for you.” West stands with his hands on his hips and a self-righteous stare, absolutely certain he’s right.

“Is she good enough for you?” I ask accusingly.

“What? Who?”

“Stacey, the succubus. Do I really need to remind you? I’m shocked you were able to disentangle yourself from her face long enough to even realize I was here! Is she good enough for you? Is she all you ever dreamed of?” My breath hitches on the last words, and I’m so thankful to see Holly walk out onto the patio.

“What does she have to do with anything?” West looks utterly confused, and I am beyond frustrated with him. How can he ignore what’s right in front of him? A blind man could see how I feel about him.

“I’m just saying, she must be everything you’ve ever wanted, right? I mean, you’ve been dry humping her against the wall for the past two hours.”

“Stacey is just a girl I hook up with sometimes. I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Alex.” West’s body is coiled with tension, and his glare serves as a warning. He should know better than to warn me. That only serves as an invitation.

“Oh, it’s Alex now, is it? Now that you don’t like what I have to say, I’m no longer your ‘Poppy Girl’?”

“Stop it. You’ll always be my Poppy Girl. You know that. You know how I feel about you.”

“Do I? Let me see if I have this straight. You’ve put me on this pedestal, too good for you or anyone else. That’s mighty lonely, don’t you think?”

“Alex.” He reaches out to me, and I hold up a hand to stop him.

“No, stay away from me, West. I don’t think I can be around you right now.” My breath hitches, and the tears burn behind my eyes. I feel Holly’s hand wrap around mine, and I hold on to her for dear life.

Holly leads me toward the road to leave, and I turn around one more time to see a pained expression on West’s face. I stop and watch him intently.

I hope he’ll stop me. I pray he’ll grab me and tell me I have it all wrong.

But he doesn’t.

He remains silently planted to his place, and I sigh in defeat.

“West, you say that I’m your Poppy Girl? That I’m perfect—everything you could ever want.” I wait for him to meet my gaze and shrug my shoulders in question. “I’m everything you could ever want, and I still lose. How can that be?”

I can no longer hold the tears at bay as he drops his head, runs his hands through his hair, and growls in frustration.

“Alex, just wait. I—”

“West, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

I never heard the screen door open, and judging by the surprise on West’s face, he didn’t either. Stacey slinks up behind him and curls her tentacles around his waist, giving me a territorial glare.

“All right, that’s enough. We’re leaving,” Holly says without giving me a chance to respond as she pulls me away from the house.

I cry the entire way home. I sneak up to my room, avoiding my family so I don’t have to explain, curling up under the covers of my bed without worrying about pajamas.

And I curse the day I ever met West Adler.

 


Lego House
” by Ed Sheeran

 

 

 

“I THINK THE pink looks so beautiful, West. Can I put some polka dots?” Lucy asks sweetly, gently testing the limits of my manhood.

“You can decorate my fingernails however you like, Lucy Lou, but it’s all coming off before I leave this house.” I narrow my eyes at her jokingly as the living room fills with her infectious giggle. I like to think she gets her charm from me … yeah, probably not.

Lucy always lightens my mood; she keeps me from brooding. She fights for breath every day without complaint. No matter how many treatments, doctors’ appointments, and hospital stays she endures, she keeps smiling and laughing. When she can’t count on the simple things in life, like breathing in and out, who the hell am I to complain about anything?

As Lucy’s spindly fingers peck small turquoise dots onto my hot pink fingernails, I notice that my hands look like catcher’s mitts in comparison. Lucy is tiny and fragile for her ten years, partly due to being born prematurely and partly from years of decreased oxygen intake. I see the signs of her disease in her thin frame, dark eye circles, and pale complexion, but she’s still the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her alabaster skin and jet-black hair make her look like a living porcelain doll.

“How about your toes?” she asks expectantly. Her eyes light up with mischief, and I chuckle under my breath.

“Sure, sweetheart, I guess I can hide those well enough. Are they going to get polka dots, too?”

“No, I think you need a tiny rhinestone on each toe—West, get back here!”

I pull my hands and feet away from the little torturer and make my way into the kitchen. I’m all for making my baby sister happy, but even I have my limits.

“You’ve crossed the line, Lucy Lou. You are not bedazzling me,” I call out over my shoulder with a laugh.

I join my mom at the kitchen sink and watch as she scrubs the dinner dishes. Her shoulders shake in laughter, and her lips curve into a grin.

“Come on now, West. You know it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been bedazzled. That little girl has got you wrapped around her finger.”

I don’t even attempt to argue, because she’s absolutely right. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Lucy … for my family.

I look over at my mom’s sweet smile and tired, but content, eyes and feel the familiar squeeze deep in my chest. It’s good to see the smile on her face—it hasn’t always been there. I watched her fall apart when that bastard sperm donor walked out on us, and I made a promise to myself to never let her go through something like that again.

She carefully sets each mismatched plate in the drying rack and then begins washing the glasses. The countertops are slightly warped in places from wear and tear, and the linoleum floors crack at the edges, but the kitchen is spotless. The surfaces are free of clutter, and the bubbled countertops shine. We may not live in a mansion, but we do the best we can with what we have.

“Did you get the mail today, baby? Any bills?”

“Nope,” I answer quickly. “Just junk mail.”

I avoid her eyes and focus on drying the dishes with mock enthusiasm. I think I have enough saved from my pro shop paychecks to cover what came through the mail this week. If any more bills show up, I’ll have to hand them over, though. If I could find another way, I would. I feel like I’m constantly searching for another way.

I’m so fucking tired of running to stand still.

“Whew! I’m so glad to hear it. We might actually be in the black this month. Ever since Oakbourne sponsored you for the semester, things have been turning around. Mr. Fontaine is a godsend, isn’t he?” She’s downright cheerful as she bumps my shoulder.

“Yeah, he is. He’s a really good man.” My voice sounds bitter and monotone even to my own ears. I’m telling her the truth—I have the utmost respect for Mr. Fontaine. Every time I think of the check he wrote me, it reminds me of what I can’t have. That check took away any chance of having what I so desperately want. I won’t disrespect him that way.

BOOK: Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)
9.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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