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“Not really sure,” he answered with a laugh.
“Adam!” Rory ran around the table and barreled into my legs.
“Ooft!” I pretended to stagger back a few steps. “Have you been working out? You’re stronger than yesterday!”
He nodded, pulling back. He lifted his sleeve and flexed his tiny muscles at me. “I did five press-ups this morning!”
“Five? Woah. Good job!” I held up one hand for a high-five, and he obliged, hitting my hand with great enthusiasm.
“Are you leaving?” Poppy’s dad asked.
“Yeah. Avery just got here so I thought I’d leave them to it. I was gonna go work out.”
Mark looked at the food on the table and wrinkled his face. “Mind if I grab a drink and meet you up there? I could use a workout.”
“Sounds good to me. Always better with a friend.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Pops, I’ll text you when I’m done, all right?”
“Huh?” She looked over her shoulder at me, cheeks still pink.
I fought a smile. “I’ll text you when we’re done to see where you are. All right?”
“Oh. Yes. All right.”
Avery snorted, and I winked.
She was losing her mind over this, and it was so fun.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN – POPPY
Napkins and Nonsense
Avery slammed the door to her room shut and stared at me. “You slept with Adam Winters and didn’t know who he was?”
“I—well—you saw him in the bar and didn’t tell me!”
Really. That was my argument? My god, I was lame.
“I didn’t see him that clearly! You told me you were going home with him and I jumped in an Uber.”
“So much for making sure I was safe.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d been talking to his friend all night. I knew he was safe. But stop deflecting! How the hell did you get away with that in your hockey-mad family?”
I told her what happened on Friday night. “So, yeah. Rosie saved my ass,” I finished.
“Adam didn’t think it was a good idea to tell you just in case?”
“No. He thought it was funny.”
“He’d met your mom, right?”
“And she loves him,” I muttered, dropping onto her bed. “This whole weekend is a hot mess, Aves. My family is obsessed with him—now personally, too—and soon, I’m going to have to break up with my fake boyfriend who happens to be the only boyfriend my family has ever liked.”
“Well, you do run that risk,” she said unhelpfully. “Without being that person, I told you this was a bad idea.”
“I know. It was a bad idea. It is a bad idea.” I fell backward and covered my eyes as I bounced on the mattress.
The bed dipped as she lay down next to me. “He seems nice, though. Very convincing.”
I groaned rolling over onto my front and almost lying on top of her. “He is. He’s lovely and perfect.”
“Uh-oh,” Avery said, shifting to sit up. She leaned against the headboard and tossed her shoes on the floor. “Lovely and perfect?”
Another groan and I buried my face into the covers. “Yes. And I hate that I like him.”
“Like him, or like him?”
“I don’t know, Aves.” I turned my head to the side and rested my cheek on my arms. “I don’t want to answer the question. Sure, he’s hot as hell and he’s a freaking magician in the bedroom, but we just…get along. It’s so easy, you know? It’s like we’ve known each other for years instead of hours.”
“That’s…I want to say it’s cute, but I don’t think you’ll agree.”
“No. Then last night Ro told me we were doing a really good job of pretending to be into each other, and—”
Avery barked a laugh. “Pretending my ass! That kiss after breakfast near damn turned me on!”
I cough-laughed. “Exactly. I told him it was bugging me and he told me he was into me. Ugh, Aves.”
“So why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“You’re totally freaking out.”
I shook my head. “Tomorrow this will all be over, so it doesn’t matter, because—”
“Why does it have to be over?” She crossed her legs and hugged a pillow. “You’re into each other. You both live in Orlando. Why not be honest and see if anything happens?”
“Because we’re different people and our lives aren’t compatible.”
“You’re like that heroine in romance novels who makes people want to throw their Kindles. You know, the ones where you sit and scream and go, ‘HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT? YOU HAVEN’T TRIED!’”
I blinked at her. “In the middle of a book, huh?”
She blew out a long breath. “Angst central. Okay, but still, how do you know your lives aren’t compatible?”
“Because he’s famous and talented and rich and—”
“You’re talented.”
“It doesn’t count. I paint for fun.” I shifted to sit up and glanced away. “You’re the only person who knows I still do that.”
“So that makes it any less important? Pops, you’re working as a waitress with a roommate in a slightly overpriced apartment. That’s how most rich people start out.”
