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“How about you just worry about getting this dance the fuck over with and don’t worry about me?” I glower before standing abruptly and towering over her. “I’m not your brother, Poppy. Don’t ever say shit like that again to me either. If you do, you’ll be dancing by yourself at the fundraiser. That’s a promise.”
And then I leave, never looking back.
Where does she get off, making assumptions about me? What I do and whose house I’m at is none of her fucking business. Besides, I’m fine.
I walk up the stairs and into my room. The sight on the living room couch made my day suck just a tiny bit less, surprisingly.
While living with Haley, I have learned something. There is nothing more beautiful than her in her baggy sweatpants and ratty high school T-shirt, her hair pulled up in a messy bun or ponytail. It’s a sight I hope to see every single day. But I’ve only been graced with it a handful of times—when I really needed it. Today was one of those days.
I really don’t know how she comes from the same family as Hunter. Or how her parents made her when they are the most type-A people you could ever meet. Her socks never match, she makes a mess every time she bakes or cooks something, and she’s extremely forgetful. Oh, and she mysteriously has candy with her at all times. I do not get how she is a Thompson.
She also leaves a trail of things everywhere she goes. A hairbrush. School papers. A bottle of water. A book. Oh, and she always loses the remote minutes after it’s given to her.
Hurricane Haley has become my favorite thing in life.
But she can’t knowingly be my favorite thing. No, I have to adore her from a distance—far enough away that she won’t see me and catch on. That is the only way to keep her safe from me.
I say hi when I see her. I ask her how her day is going, but I keep it light. It’s been nearly a week since we hooked up, and it still consumes so much of my brain.
In a few days, I have to perform with Poppy, and that’s annoying because she’s suddenly onto me, suspecting I’m a druggie. I’m not like Van. I’m fine. And even if I’m not, it’s not her concern. We aren’t even friends.
I collapse on my bed, knowing I have to go to hockey practice in a few short hours and I’m already fucking dragging.
All I want to do right now is get this performance over with. Get it behind me and get Poppy and her concerns out of my life.
10
Haley
Hunter was given a few tickets so family could attend tonight’s show, and when he offered me one, I took it without question. I knew our parents likely wouldn’t come watch it. With their work, it’s always hard for them to come to events like this. And they typically don’t show much support for anything to do with hockey.
I really didn’t want to come either. Sure, I think it’s for an amazing cause, supporting Brody O’Brien’s One Wishfoundation to help less fortunate kids play sports and get a chance to do extracurricular activities. I love all of that. But watching Cade and Poppy prance around on the stage together like they are some couple onDancing with the Stars? No thanks. Hard pass. I might actually chew the inside of my cheek off.
But here I am, like the good sister I am. I wanted Hunter to have someone in the stands. I wanted Sutton to have someone too. So, I came. And I dressed up. Wearing a fancy, body-hugging little black dress, covered in sequins and leaving littleto the imagination. Some might say it’s a revenge dress. And those people … would absolutely be right. But who am I kidding, trying to show off my body to a man who’s dancing with a girl as stacked as Poppy?
Watson is currently onstage, dancing with a girl named Ryann, and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen Watson be so gentle and sweet. His eyes never leave her, not for the whole performance. He’s been disappearing a lot lately, and now, I’m wondering if that pretty little thing is the reason why.
Every performance is great. Some funny. Some more romantic. But when Poppy and Cade are presented, I’m a little relieved that it’s an upbeat song and not a slow, sensual one.
“What a Night” by Flo Rida plays, and I can’t even lie—Cade and Poppy are phenomenal. The playful music, followed by their moves onstage, has the entire room smiling and dancing around in their seats.
He grins, captivating every face in the crowd, and I feel a pang in my chest. It happens every time I look at him, ever since I first moved into the house.
As I watch their performance end, I come to grips with something. I’m in love with that boy. And he barely knows I exist.
It is time for me to find another place to live. I can’t be around him any longer.
Cade
After our performance, we get some waters and watch Hunterand Sutton go onstage.
Personally, I think we killed it. Of course, if we hadn’t smoothed everything over at rehearsal last night, we probably would have sucked. And by smoothed everything over, I mean, I apologized for being a dick, and she agreed to not speculate when it came to my life.
I jerk my chin toward Hunter and Sutton. “I can’t lie—they are good,” I say, tilting my chin up and grinning at Poppy. “Do you still think I’m the worst dance partner?”
“I don’t think I ever said that,” she says, rolling her eyes before holding her fist up. “You did good, Huff. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” I wink, bumping my fist against hers. “I had a damn good dancing partner who made me look better.”
