Page 8 of Lucky 14

I’d kill for Poppy.

There’s a glint in the woman’s eyes. “By what, texting her to death?”

Now, my hands are shaking. How dare she question my relationship? “I’d do anything for her. I love her. No one will get in the way of that love. I won’t let them.” I’m spitting the words now, but I feel them deep in my bones. I feel like I’m saying them to Poppy. Only, she can’t hear me.

The woman’s finger taps against her glass. Tap, tap, tap. Finally, she asks, “You won’t let anyone get in the way?”

I just nod.

I can feel the woman’s gaze on me, but I don’t look at her. If I do, I know she’ll see the sadness that I’m trying so hard to mash down. Suddenly, I feel like I’m a kid again, getting chosen for a dodgeball game. Only I’m not getting chosen ‘cause I’m last and they picked the kid next to me. Poppy won’t pick me, and now this stupid club won’t either. Don’t be last. Don’t be last.

“Fine.”

The woman waves down the bartender and whispers something to her. I’m lost for a second, not sure what she’s doing. Then the bartender leaves and returns with a sheet of paper.

The woman at the bar slides it across to me. “Fill this out.”

I stare at it. What is this? The top of the paper says: The 14th Game. Everything under it is basic. Name, address, date of birth.

The woman taps at a part lower on the page. “This is where you put the one thing that’ll get between you and…true love.”

The section is the same. Name, address, date of birth.

I hesitate. “What is this?”

The woman is silent for a second, then she sighs and starts to pull the paper away from me. “I knew you weren’t built for it.”

She doesn’t think I’m good enough. My chest tightens. “No! I just…don’t know what I’m signing up for.” I wave at the paper.

The woman yanks the sheet from me. “I’m beginning to think you and I have different definitions of love.”

I can feel the alcohol humming in my veins, making me reckless. Love is doing anything for your person. And I’d do anything for Poppy.

Even as the anger boils, I realize the woman is telling the truth. So what if I don’t know the game? I’m being a pussy. I said I’d do anything for my woman, right? So I should fucking do it. Right now.

So, I do it. I fill out my section, then hesitate when I get to the second section. The woman said it’s anything that’s standing in the way of my relationship. And I know exactly who that is. The person who got in Poppy’s head and convinced her we weren’t meant to be together.

Holland Weathersfield. Poppy’s therapist.

Briefly, I hesitate. I consider walking out of here. But then I realize I’ll drive straight to Poppy’s house, and I can’t be held liable for what happens next. So instead, I pull out my phone, search voter records and utility bills, and find the information on Holland I need. Something twinges in my chest when I slide the form back to the woman. But the woman is right. If I love Poppy, I’ll fight for her. It’s just a game, right? Maybe they’ll sign her up for Jehovah’s Witnesses or something. Get an Etsy witch to cast a spell on her.

I open my notes app:

CHAPTER FOUR

Sometimes, you gotta piss on someone’s parade. Or on their pathetic phone call in the bathroom, whatever happens first.

I take a hit from my joint and hold it until I feel like I can’t breathe.

Bathroom Boy is one of the most stunning men I’ve ever seen. He has shaggy dark hair that falls over his piercing blue eyes, a strong jaw, and soft, kissable lips, with a slender yet muscular form. He looks like a goddamn emo wet dream.

Unfortunately, he’s just as emotional as his appearance would suggest. Although that could be fun. There’s no high like making someone else lose control alongside you.

“Ky,” someone says, interrupting the rush of tingles moving through my veins. Only people who really know me call me Ky. I look down. It’s Adam.

Adam doesn’t really know me. He can fuck off with the Ky stuff.

He jerks his head toward the back offices. “I got our stuff.”