by Lindsay Becs
“The other option was licking it off, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that either,” he says. Then I watch as his tongue slides over his lip, and instantly I’m wishing he’d gone with that option.
He hasn’t kissed me again since that day on the plane weeks ago. I’m not going to lie; I wish he would, but I understand his hesitance. Doesn’t mean I don’t think about how his lips felt on mine all the time.
“Whatcha thinking about over there, Soda Pop?” he asks, popping his lips with an ornery look on his face.
“Why do you call me that?” I ask, curious to his reason. I don’t even drink soda, but he’s called me that for years.
“Because you seem sugary sweet and give off this fun demeanor like fizz, but when you get shaken up, you explode.”
“What the hell?” I laugh. “That’s the worst nickname ever!”
“Nah, it suits you perfectly,” he says smugly, standing to leave. “You ready to go?”
Following him out of the restaurant, we make our way back to the hotel. Stopping in front of my door, he waits for me to open it. “See ya tomorrow, Soda Pop,” he says with a big smile, knowing I hate the name even more now.
“Want to come in and watch a movie or something?” I ask, feeling nervous but wanting to spend more time with him away from the track.
I can tell he’s contemplating my offer. Running his hand through his hair, he looks up at me from under his long lashes. “Fuck it,” he says as he pushes me inside with his hands on my hips and his mouth crashing onto mine.
The door closes, and he turns us so my back is pressed against it. I moan into his mouth as his tongue seeks entrance. My hands grip his strong shoulders before moving to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
His fingers curl into the loops at the waist of my jeans, pulling me into him more. I gasp when I feel his hard dick press against me. Pulling back, he stops our kiss and looks down at me with darkened eyes. “Fuck, what are you doing to me?” he asks.
“I just asked to watch a movie.” I smirk.
He smiles before leaning forward and biting my neck, making me giggle. Grabbing me by the ass, he picks me up and carries me into the room, dropping me onto the bed with a bounce. He jumps on me and tickles my sides, blowing raspberries in my neck while I scream and kick for him to stop.
When he finally relents and sits back on his haunches, his hair is a mess as he smiles at me. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be touching you and kissing you. But damn, Poppy, I can’t stop thinking about you and wanting more. I hate nothing about you.”
It’s rare to see Zander be forthcoming and talk about how he feels. To be vulnerable and honest. He seems to only be this way with me and I don’t know why, but I like it.
“I hate nothing about you either.” I smile, gripping his hands in mine, lacing our fingers together. “I don’t want to regret not giving in to this—whatever it is. I like it.”
“Me too. That’s the problem,” he admits, shifting to lie between my legs, resting his weight on his elbows. “We weren’t supposed to be more than friends, and I wasn’t supposed to be more than your teacher and mentor.”
“We are friends, aren’t we?” I ask with a smile, knowing that we are definitely blurring the lines. A lot.
He nods his head, and I can tell he’s thinking too much about this. “I’m too old for you. And I promised your dad I wouldn’t touch you like this.” He sounds deflated as his head drops to my stomach.
“Please. You know that Aunt Penny’s parents had like fifteen years or something like that between them? My mom’s mom, was way older than my papa. Maybe it’s a genetic thing.”
He laughs against my stomach, and I feel it vibrate through me. “I don’t think that’s a genetic thing, Pops.”
“Whatever. I’m just saying our ages shouldn’t matter.” I run my hands through his hair, scraping my nails against his head and making him groan.
“Dammit, I’m hard again,” he admits.
“Zander!” I yell. Embarrassed, I shield my face with my arms.
He laughs more and crawls farther up my body until I can feel his hardness between my legs, and instantly, I don’t feel so embarrassed anymore. Pulling my arms from my face, he looks down at me as he grinds his erection into me.
My mouth parts on a gasp as he hits me just right through our layers of clothes. He does it again, and this time I moan, closing my eyes and allowing myself to enjoy it.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he tells me, bending down to place a soft kiss on my lips. “I should go.”
“What? Why?” I ask as I open my eyes to meet his, confused.
“Because if I don’t, I’m going to rip your clothes off and fuck you hard, and you aren’t ready for that.”
I stay there unmoved while he stands and adjusts himself. Turning to look at me again, he smiles and I can see the war raging inside him, but he turns back around and leaves.
It’s the long break mid-season. Zander and I traveled back to Las Vegas for the few weeks we have to enjoy our homes before heading back out. As much as I’m loving my time on the road with Zander, it feels good to be home to spend time with my family.
“Hello?” I yell inside my house when I walk in. Looking around, I search for my family, but no one’s here. Well, welcome home, Poppy. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.
I text my brother, Harrison—or Harry as we call him—to see where everyone is. He replies that they are at one of Ruby’s dance recitals. Gag me. That’s all this family seems to do is watch my sister dance. Unless they’re watching my dad race, that is.
Ruby is six years younger than me and is a brat and the obvious favorite. I seem to be the blemished child, along with Harry, who’s in the middle at fifteen, while Ruby can do no wrong. Or at least it seems that way most of the time. Harry has a good sense of humor to get through it all. Me, I just keep my distance.
I unpack and make my way to the kitchen to get something to snack on while I wait for them to get home. Opening the fridge, I see nothing but healthy stuff. Searching the pantry for something good, I come up with only kale chips and sunflower seeds. How does someone survive on this alone? Is Ruby a rabbit?
Shaking my head, I grab my phone and decide to order a pizza, too scared to know what I’m going to be forced to eat for dinner. I’m on my second piece when my ear bud is pulled from my ear. “Hey!” I yell, rubbing my ear.
“Shut up and give me a piece before Mom walks in and makes you throw it away,” Harry says as he reaches over me for a piece of pizza.
“Sure, have some,” I deadpan as he eats half the piece in one bite. “Missed you too.”
He lets out an exaggerated moan. “I haven’t had pizza in months, Pops. Months,” he says around a mouthful.
“What’s that smell?” my mom asks, walking into the kitchen. She stops when she sees Harry and me eating pizza like scavengers. “Finish what you have in your hands and throw the rest out.” She’s like a blustery wind blowing through, continuing her way past us to follow Ruby.
“Hi, Mom. Nice to see you too. I missed your soft, sweet motherly love,” I grumble as I shove a pepperoni in my mouth. Harry snorts a laugh, eating the last of the piece in his hand.
My dad walks up behind me next. “Is that pizza? Give me a piece before your mother sees!” I laugh as he takes a piece and shoves half in his mouth, much like Harry did earlier.
“What is happening around here? Is no one allowed to eat real food anymore because Ruby doesn’t eat it?”
“Pretty much,” Harry says before chugging a bottle of water. “Miss us?” he asks with a smile.
“Not really.”
“Ah!” Harry slaps his hand over his heart. “That hurts, Pop. That hurts real bad.”
I smile as my dad grabs another piece of pizza before I close the box and take it out to the garage to throw it away. Walking back inside, I wash my hands and lean against the counter.
“What’s new around here?”
&
nbsp; “I’ve been where you’ve been,” my dad says, walking to me and kissing my head before leaving to find my mom.
“Nothing much. Dance recitals, dance practices, dance diets, dance everything,” Harry prats off. “Dad did tell me I can get my driver’s permit while he’s home.”
“Oh shit! Watch out, world!” I joke.
“There’s a party happening on Saturday. Wanna go?” he asks me.
I lift a shoulder. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know.”
“Alright.” He knocks his fist on the counter and leaves for his room.
I shake my head at how I’m once again left here by myself. I start to walk to my room, as well, when I hear my mom. “Poppy, I’m sorry. I had to help Ruby. Her toenail split open during rehearsal.”
“Gross.”
“No kidding. I don’t know how she deals with all that stuff.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, how are you sweetie? Did you throw out that pizza?” She asks giving me a quick hug.
“Yeah, I took it out. I’m good,” I add flatly.
“Thank you. Ruby gets tempted so easily, and her teacher has been on her ass about keeping trim.”
“Mom, she’s twelve. Is it that bad if she eats a piece of pizza?”
“She wants to get into Julliard eventually, and if that’s the case, she has to do everything she can now to help achieve that. Including good eating habits.”
“But aren’t you the one who promotes women of all shapes being beautiful, Miss Curves of the World Ambassador? Let the child eat what she wants. She’ll burn it all off with how much she dances anyway,” I say, feeling frustrated with the whole thing.
“I am,” she says slowly, “and you’re probably right. But dancers have different pressures and expectations on them. I can’t control that. If it’s what she wants, then I’ll help her any way I can.”
“Whatever,” I say as I roll my eyes, annoyed. Clearly, it doesn’t matter what I say; it won’t change anything. I head upstairs to my room but stop when I see my sister standing in front of the full-length mirror in her room, studying her stomach like she’s gained twenty pounds by smelling pizza.
“Hey, Rubes. You alright?” I ask hesitantly.
She sniffs, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “I’m fine,” she replies coolly, walking to her door and closing it in my face. Alright then.
6
Zander
I left Poppy to enjoy her break when we reached Vegas five days ago. Now, I’m regretting that decision. I’m going stir-crazy, for one, and I miss seeing her every day and hearing her sarcastic humor, for another.
I contemplate my next move over and over to the point that I’m starting to question whether I’m a twenty-eight-year-old man or a thirteen-year-old girl. Finally, I pick my balls back up and drive to her parents’ house, where she’s staying.
After knocking on the door, it occurs to me that she might not even be home. Like a dumbass, I just drove here instead of calling or texting her first. I wait a second, and when I lift my fist to knock a second time, the door opens.
“Zander. What can I do for ya, mate?” Benton asks, obviously not quite sure what to make of me standing at his front door.
“I came to get Poppy,” I state like she knows I’m here.
“Does she know that?” he asks, blasting my lie to shit. He has an amused look on his face, so I don’t think he’s pissed. Yet, at least.
I scratch my head. “Not exactly,” I start, suddenly nervous.
Benton studies me for a second. “Is this a social call or work call?”
I’m about to answer as honestly as I feel I can without getting punched in the face when I hear Poppy. “Zander? What are you doing here?” she asks, saving me from having to answer her dad.
“Hey, Soda Pop.” I wave at her like an idiot. “I guess I should have called first, but I was wondering if I could steal you for a little while.”
“Aww… do you miss me already?” she asks with a growing smile. “Dude’s got it bad,” she adds to her dad, and I internally die from the truth in her words.
“It’ll be mostly fun but a little work too. Wanna come?” I ask and try my damnedest to keep a straight face at the double meaning of my words. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.
A little laugh falls from her before she answers. “Sure. Let me grab my shoes.”
I watch her leave, and when I look back at Benton, his face doesn’t look as friendly as it did before. Shit. He just watched me watch his daughter’s ass as she walked away. This is not good.
“She need to be back by a certain time?” I ask, trying to act like everything is kosher as usual.
He slowly shakes his head as he studies me a little too closely. “Do I need to be worried that you want to keep my daughter out late into the night?”
“What? No!” I take a step back with my hands up. “Only asking if she has a curfew or if you guys have family plans.”
Benton, the ass, starts to laugh—hard—at my expense. “You should have seen your face. You looked like you were going to shit yourself.”
“Asshole!” I laugh, shaking my head. Fuck me. This isn’t going to be pretty when he finds out the truth.
“You two done beating your chests or whatever?” Poppy asks as she walks out the door to join me.
She tells her dad bye and follows me to my car. On the way to my house, we catch up on how bored we’ve both been since we’ve been home.
“This is your place?” she asks when I pull in. My house is outside the city in a more rural area. I wanted space to not be on top of my neighbors and in the middle of the city.
“Yep. Come on. I have plans for us,” I tell her, pulling her hand when we exit the car.
“What kind of plans?” she asks with a wry smile.
“Not what you’re thinking, but I like the way your brain works.” She follows me out back, down the path to where I have another garage with ATVs and dirt bikes inside. “Ever ridden a dirt bike before?” She shakes her head but looks excited to try. “It’s not that different from a motorcycle, just smaller. And you can do more tricks,” I add, wagging my brows.
We get geared up, and she picks which of the four bikes she wants to drive. Once we start, she’s slow at first, feeling out this new bike. It doesn’t take long before she’s throwing dirt and doing jumps.
We race and jump and laugh for hours. I haven’t laughed and had this much fun out here in a long time. It feels good to enjoy what I have with someone else.
Once the sun begins to go down, I signal to her that we should go in. She slumps her shoulders like she’s bummed but follows me to the garage. We park the bikes and begin to take off our protective gear, hanging up our helmets and kicking off our boots.
“You didn’t tell me to bring extra clothes,” she says, looking down at her dirt-covered shirt and jeans as she hands back the pair of gloves she wore.
Tilting my head, I signal for her to follow me. Once we get to the side of the garage, I turn on the hose to rinse off my hands. I hold it out for her to use as well, but then pull it up, spraying water all over her.
“Dude!” she yells, at first in shock, followed by squeals as she runs away from me as I keep spraying her with the cold water. “Zander, stop!” she shrieks through laughter.
Laughing with her, I stop and spray the hose over my head, soaking me from the head down. She tries to take the hose from my hand, but I pull it back and shake my wet hair in her direction, making her laugh harder before I spray her once more, then turn off the water.
“So not fair!” she yells, attempting to get the hose again. Catching her around the waist, I stop her, swinging her in a circle. She continues to laugh with abandon as I rub my wet hair into her neck and tickle her sides, and I love the sound.
“Did you have fun?” I ask, looking down at her. I have her arms pinned behind her back to keep her from going to the hose again. Our wet bodies press close together.
Her eyes sparkle looking up at me from this position.
“I had a lot of fun.” She smiles. “I always do with you. For an old dude, you act much younger.”
“Old dude, huh?” I ask, letting go of her hands.
“Yep,” she says smugly.
Reaching down, I pull off my wet shirt and throw it at her face. “Come on, youngin’. Let’s get you some dry clothes before you catch chicken pox.”
“I don’t think that’s how you get chicken pox.” She laughs but follows me back toward the house.
“Here, hold your own shirt,” she says, throwing my wet tee back at me. “And hold mine too while you’re at it.” She surprises me by pulling her wet shirt up and over her head. She’s left in a pair of tight jeans and a purple lacy bra that matches the color of her nails today. I swallow down all the dirty things I want to say to her as my eyes take her in like this.
When we reach the house, she leans against the outside wall and begins to undo the buttons on her jeans. “Wh.. what are you doing?” I ask, not able to take my eyes off the movements of her hands as they begin to push her jeans down her hips.
“I don’t want to track water and dirt through your house.” She says it like it’s not a big deal that she’s stripping right in front of me. When her eyes meet mine, it’s evident she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Gritting my teeth together, I close my eyes to try to tame my hardening cock. “Poppy,” I rasp. “Please stop.” I hear her moving and the sound of clothes shuffling, but I keep my eyes closed.
“I’m going to go find your shower and wash all this dirt off,” she says, and I hear her steps as she walks closer to me and the door. “You can open your eyes now, Zander,” she whispers in my ear, and my dick twitches, getting harder by the second.
I don’t know which is worse: watching her strip in front of me or knowing she’ll be naked in my shower soon. Shaking my head, I open my eyes and walk inside. I look up and see Poppy’s naked back walking up the stairs. This time I don’t bother to close my eyes.