Honeymoon Rivals

8| Tickets

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Tickets

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Chapter 8: Tickets (Josh's POV)

The rest of the office day was yet another day wasted except this time, because of Poppy. It didn't matter how many times I looked at her and after how long, each time I did, she was fast asleep. 

Initially, we were supposed to plan the outline of our shared article today so when we got back from New Orleans, we could speed up the writing process and add it to the magazine. 

I glanced at the time on my watch and took a look around the office room. It was lunchtime and the entire room was empty, save sleepy Poppy and me. I still couldn't believe I'd have to do all this with her. 

Ever since she joined Travel Addict Weekly, I've spent a fair share of my time trying to avoid her and whenever I couldn't, I turned to competing with her and making things as difficult for her as I could. I didn't want Poppy anywhere near me, I didn't want to be stuck with her with no way out. "Poppy." 

She groaned and then lifted her head, her chair sliding over the carpet as she looked past her computer, tilting her head to one side. "What?" 

"We have work to do if you're done napping." 

"I'm not," she said bluntly, disappearing behind her computer again. 

I rolled my eyes, scratching my eyebrow. "Poppy," I said again. 

"That's my name," she mumbled, "don't wear it out." 

All right, that was it, that was my limit. I stood up, rounding the table and pulling her chair back, making her sit upright, glaring at me. "Get up and get yourself together. We have to book our flight tickets and make our article plans together." 

"So?" 

"So, we're going to lunch. Up," I ordered. 

She only stared at me. 

"Now," I said more firmly. 

She tilted her chin up, defiance in her eyes. 

She... plays very dangerous games. 

"Poppy," I exhaled. 

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her purse off the table. Clearly, she was so out of it today that her phone and everything else proceeded to fall out of her open purse now that she grabbed it upside down. She just stared at everything on the floor before cursing, "Fucking hell." She glanced at me while I grabbed the armrests of her chair, pushing it back a few inches. 

I huffed, kneeling down on the floor, grabbing all her things, shoving them into her purse. Her phone, a tiny mirror, a lip gloss, a hand cream, her keys, and her journal. 

Lord, how does everything fit in her little purse? 

I zipped up the purse before facing her. She seemed wide awake now. "A pen," she said.