The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a bluish glow over the room. I’m still on cloud nine, the memories of last night with Poppy fresh and vivid in my mind. Every fiber of my being wants to stay wrapped up in her warm sheets, to bask in the afterglow a little longer. The feeling of her soft skin against mine is a blissful torture. My hand hovers over her arm, wanting to caress her, kiss her, taste her again until she calls my name in complete rapture like she did last night. My hard dick hardens even more, and I wince.
No, now it’s not the time. I’m already late for soccer, and if I judge by the darker hues under Poppy’s eyes, she needs restful sleep.
Reluctantly, I pull myself out of bed, and as I dress quickly, she shifts in the bed, the cover pulling down, revealing one of her small, perky breasts.
I stay at the bottom of her bed, staring at her like a pervert, mesmerized by her pink nipple and the slight redness on her milky skin that I know is caused by the chaffing of my stubble. I let my eyes wander down to her pussy that is unfortunately covered by her duvet.
Are her inner thighs chaffed too? Is her sweet pussy still swollen and glistening from the pleasure I gave her last night? My fingers twitch at my side with the desire to pull the bedding down and wake her up with an orgasm, sleep and soccer be damned.
My dick twitches again as if it’s begging me to go through with all my lurid thoughts.
I shake my head. No, I have to go now, and we can always explore her pleasure again later.
If she still wants you, my little voice calls as I exit the bedroom.
I softly close the door behind me, still floating on that blissful cloud from the night spent with Poppy. Looking up, I find Eva at the kitchen counter, munching on cereal and scrolling through her phone.
She’s dressed impeccably, a far cry from the disheveled, drunk version of her I’d seen last night. She barely gives me a glance, her focus seemingly entirely on whatever she’s looking at on her phone.
I’m nearly out the door, my mind already on the soccer field, but Eva’s voice cuts through the morning’s calm. “Hurt her, and I’ll make you pay.”
My steps falter, and I swivel around, a brow quirked in disbelief. “Excuse me?” Her words, unexpected and fierce, throw me off balance. This isn’t the Eva I thought I knew.
She looks up, eyes hard and serious, and it’s a bit unnerving. It’s a stark contrast to Nessa’s fiery but ultimately harmless warnings. Eva’s words carry weight, a promise that Nessa’s lacks.
“You heard me,” she repeats, her voice steady and sure. “I might not look like much of a threat, but hurt her, and I swear to God you’ll live to regret it.”
I stand there, a silent observer of this unexpected side of Eva, and a part of me pities Cole. He has no idea what he’s up against.
“Eva,” I begin cautiously, “Poppy’s worried about you. Is there a reason she should be?”
She doesn’t look up, but I sense a change in the air, a tension that wasn’t there before.
“I know Cole can be a bit… overwhelming,” I continue, “but he’s not a bad guy.”
Her eyes flicker up to meet mine, a guarded expression in them. “There are many facets to a person, Ethan. Don’t be quick to judge someone based on your limited interactions.”
I raise an eyebrow, a retort ready. “Same to you. Don’t judge me based on your experiences with jocks.”
She gives me a chilling smile, uncharacteristic enough to send a shiver down my spine. “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, Ethan Hawthorne. That’s why you’re walking out of here, not limping. But understand this”—her voice drops, a serious undertone to her words—“I won’t give you a second chance with her.”
I nod, accepting her warning, but then she mutters something under her breath, something that sounds like, “Never again will I let one of you destroy one of us.”
I freeze, my hand on the door handle, and turn back to her. “What was that?”
She looks up, her eyes flashing with emotions—pain, anger, regret. For an instant, she looks like she’s going to deny it, but then she sighs. “Just… be good to her, Ethan. That’s all I’m asking.”
And with that, she turns back to her phone, effectively dismissing me. But her words linger, echoing in my mind as I step out into the morning light and make my way to the car.
What did she mean by “one of you” and “one of us?” And how does Cole fit into her past? What if my brother-in-arms, my goofy best friend, is none other than a monster in her story?
The uneasy feeling gnaws at me, clashing with everything I know about Cole. But Eva’s eyes hold a dark kind of pain that’s hard to ignore. It’s like there’s a puzzle in front of me, but I can’t see the whole picture, missing pieces hidden in her guarded gaze.
The stadium looms ahead, and despite being fifteen minutes late, I find myself taking a cold shower to try and shift my mind from the memories of pleasure to the game ahead. I can’t exactly step onto the pitch with a very evident physical reminder of last night.
After enduring what might be the coldest shower known to man, enough to numb not only my arousal but practically all my extremities, I change into my gear and hustle onto the field. My teammates are already deep into their individual techniques, having finished the warm-up.
“Hawthorne!” Coach bellows the second my cleats hit the grass. “Taking a page out of Westbrook’s playbook, are we? Don’t!”
“Come on, Coach!” Cole protests, “I was on time today! Ethan’s the one who got laid last night!”
I shoot him a glare and a well-aimed middle finger.
“Warm up, then join the midfield training. They look lost without their number ten, don’t they?” Coach orders, ignoring Cole’s commentary.
“But Coach, what about the penalty for lateness?” Brooks chimes in, and I send a glare his way as I start my warm-up runs.
“Brooks, when you can actually defend our goal, then we’ll talk!” Coach shouts back, then turns his attention to the team. “Move it, everyone! We’ve got West Hill next week, and we need to be ready!”
As I start my warm-up, the tension in my muscles begins to ease, and my mind gradually shifts from Poppy to the game ahead. The field, the shouts of my teammates, and the rhythmic thuds of the ball against cleats become my world. I can’t help the smirk that plays on my lips, even as Brooks sends a few more grumbles my way. The banter, the camaraderie, it’s all part of the game—our game. As I slide into the familiar routine of passes and plays, the memories of last night weave themselves into every move, a sweet secret that fuels my energy on the field.
The whistle blows, signaling the end of practice, and I’m both physically spent and mentally charged. My muscles ache, sweat clings to every inch of my skin, but my heart… it’s light, fluttering in a way that makes me feel like a fool, and yet… as I make my way off the field, my thoughts drift back to Poppy, and a warmth that has nothing to do with the rigorous training spreads through me.
Cole jogs up beside me, a knowing grin plastered across his face. “Ethan, no moping today, huh? What’s got you chipper after a killer session like that?”
I roll my eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at my lips. “Nothing that concerns you, Westbrook.”
He nudges me with his elbow, the smirk never leaving his face. “Oh, come on! Don’t tell me it’s nothing when you’ve got that goofy grin on your face even after Coach rode our asses without lube.”
I grimace, but before I can retort, Liam joins us, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders. “I have to agree with Cole here. You’re unusually upbeat today, Hawthorne. Did Poppy give you the keys to the kingdom last night?”
Cole makes a gagging sound, his grin widening. “‘Keys to the kingdom’? Really, Liam? What Grandpa Ashford here wants to know is if Curly showed you her pussy.”
My cheeks heat up, and I shrug off Liam’s arm, trying to play it cool. “Why does everything have to be about Poppy?”
“Because we’ve never seen you smile like this unless it involves her,” Liam points out, not buying my nonchalant act for a second.
I shake my head, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Can we focus on the upcoming match and not my love life?”
But Cole and Liam exchange a knowing look, their smirks turning into full-blown laughter. “No can do, Ethan,” Cole manages to get out through his guffaws. “Seeing Mr. Stoic all lovestruck and mushy is too good to pass up.”
“Wait until you guys fall head over heels for someone. I’m going to have a field day.”
Cole scoffs, feigning confidence. “Not gonna happen, bro. I’m immune to such afflictions.”
I flip them both off, but they only laugh harder. “You guys are the worst,” I mutter, though I can’t help but join in their laughter.
“She totally gave him the keys, alright,” Cole adds mockingly as I turn to leave. “All. Night. Long.”
The locker room is filled with the usual post-practice banter, but my mind is miles away, caught between the memory of last night and the anticipation of doing it again and again. My fingers hover over the phone, debating whether to call or text Poppy. The thought of hearing her voice is tempting, but the fear of coming off too eager holds me back.
I shove the phone back into my locker, deciding to give it a few more minutes of thought while I shower and change. The hot water does little to ease the tension in my muscles; each drop a reminder of the decision awaiting me outside the stall.
As I’m getting dressed, Liam approaches, his expression stern. “Look, I know you’re all lovey-dovey right now, but you’re not skipping out on the new recruits’ additional training.”
I raise my hands defensively. “I won’t. Promise. Just gotta run home first and grab some stuff for my international relations class. I’ll be back on time.”
Cole chimes in, smirking, “Sure, ‘international relations.’ Is that what we’re calling it now?”
I roll my eyes, shoving him playfully. “Shut it, Cole.”
Liam shakes his head, a trace of a smile betraying his serious demeanor. “Be there, Ethan.”
I nod. “I will.”
The crisp air hits me as I step outside, making my way to the car, and I pull out my phone again, resolved to ask Poppy out on a proper date. But before I can act, the phone vibrates in my hand, and a familiar name flashes across the screen. My stomach tightens.
“Dad,” I answer, my voice steady despite the anxiety curling in my gut.
“Ethan.” His voice is smooth, too smooth, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “I saw the photos of you and the Lockwood girl at the ball. Seems like things are progressing well.”
I grind my teeth, forcing a lightness into my voice that isn’t genuine. “It’s going well, Dad.”
He chuckles, a sound that sends shivers down my spine. “She doesn’t seem to have much of a backbone, does she? A bit too easy, perhaps?”
My hands clench into fists, but I manage to keep my voice even. “She’s not like that.”
He ignores my defense, continuing on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Do you have the box yet?”
“Earning trust takes time,” I reply, my grip on the phone tightening.
He scoffs. “She’s almost ripe, Ethan. Take her to the cabin, fuck her stupid to get me what I need.”
Anger boils inside me, but I swallow it down, masking it with a laugh. “You always have a way with words, Dad.”
He doesn’t respond to my sarcasm, simply waiting for my agreement. And though it kills a part of me to play into his hands, I do it anyway because keeping Poppy safe from him is all that matters.
“Alright, Dad. I’ll take her to the cabin.”
The line goes dead, and I’m left standing there, phone in hand, with a mix of anger and determination simmering within me. I won’t let him hurt her, I vow silently. No matter what lies I have to tell.
And as I slide into the driver’s seat, my resolve hardens. I will protect Poppy, even if it means playing the villain in my father’s twisted game. But how do you protect someone from a threat they don’t know exists? How do I keep her safe without revealing the truth?
I grip the steering wheel, my mind racing between Poppy’s tender smiles and my father’s cold demands. It’s like I’m stuck between two worlds. One where genuine happiness could exist—that’s Poppy’s world. And then there’s the other, dark and twisted by manipulation and control—that’s my father’s domain.
Poppy’s already been through hell because of my father and our name. He didn’t have to ruin them; it was only a sick game to him. But I won’t let him win this round. Seeing her, being with her, it’s a gut punch every time I think about my initial mission here. I’ll fix my father’s wrongs, even if it means becoming a bit of a villain in her eyes and hiding the truth from her, only for a bit. I’ll shield her from my father’s chaos, no matter what.
My first move is to secure her family’s situation, extracting their fate from my father’s sphere of power. It begins with getting them out of that trailer park.
