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I look down when my phone pings again.
Poppy: You shouldn’t be here.
My heart plummets to my stomach, making me feel sick. Then she sends another message.
Poppy: Why did you come?
I slowly type out my reply.
Me: Because I need to see you. I can’t think straight anymore. I tried, I swear I tried, Beautiful. Please, just let me look at you.
I sound like a pathetic obsessed creep, but I’m past the point of caring.
Poppy: Where are you?
I wonder if this is a trick question. Will she send Tony out here and have him tell me to leave? I’m not scared of him, but I’d prefer not to have to hurt Poppy’s best friend’s fiancé. That certainly won’t help my image in Poppy’s eyes. Not to mention, Olivia would get pissed, which would upset Poppy even more.
Praying I’m doing the right thing, I respond.
Me: Outside your window. And before you freak out, I haven’t looked inside. I’m standing here with my back against the wall, but it’s taking everything in me to not turn around and look.
Poppy deserves the truth and that’s what she’ll get.
&
nbsp; Seconds later, I see a shadow appear on the ground beside me. I lift my head from the wall and turn it. I can’t see her that well, but there she is. I take a step forward and it feels like time stands still as she comes into view. The weight I’ve felt on my chest the last few days lightens dramatically. She looks more beautiful than I remember. She has on a black tank top with short white shorts. A small portion of her tanned stomach peeks out and my cock hardens at the sight. Her braid is thrown over one shoulder. Her face is free of makeup and looks fresh. But her eyes look sad and slightly swollen. She looks broken. A piercing pain hits my chest, damn near causing me to stumble.
She stands there as I slowly walk closer to the window. I watch her reaction, making sure that my being here doesn’t upset her more. The window is slightly taller than me, so she has to look down to meet my eyes. Once I’m as close as I can get, I stop and just look at her, taking in her beauty.
I hold my breath as she lifts a hand and places her palm on the glass. Tears swim in her eyes, making my legs weak with the look. I fucking hate this distance between us.
I lift my hand and slowly bring it to the glass to place it over hers. I swear I can feel her heat through it. She bites her lip as she looks at our hands, so close to touching, yet still seeming miles away.
I still have my phone in my hand. I bring it up and briefly take my eyes off her as I tap her name to call her. She jerks, but doesn’t move to answer the ringing phone I can barely hear through the window. I spy it on the bed behind her.
When it goes to voicemail, I press the phone icon again and beg with a whisper, “Please.” She can’t hear me, but she can read the plea on my lips.
Pain and indecision are written all over her face. Just when I think she’s not going to answer, sending my heart to lodge in my throat, she drops her hand and walks over to the bed and picks it up. Bringing it to her ear, she turns around and looks back at me. She stays silent, but I can hear her rapid breathing. Her chest rising and falling attests to her heavy breaths.
“Poppy.” I breathe her name and hear her breath catch at my voice. “Come closer.”
She shakes her head and steps back.
“Please. Just to the window. You can keep it closed.” The pain I’m feeling at her refusal comes out in my voice.
She doesn’t move for several seconds, but then tentatively takes one step forward. My gut tightens when she stops again before moving forward another step. Three more steps has her only a couple feet away from the window, but it’s still not close enough. After a moment, she closes the distance between us. My hand’s still on the window, and I hope she puts hers back. I want that connection to her.
“Thank you,” I tell her softly.
She nods hesitantly.
“You look beautiful.”
She still doesn’t say anything. I want to hear her voice.
“How are you doing?” I ask, trying to draw out a response from her.
“I’m okay.”
