You're My Kind Of Wrong

Chapter Eight

I could recognize that blond hair anywhere. As soon as he steps one foot outside the elevator, I am less than ten feet away, waiting for him with arms crossed and a scowl.

"What the fuck, Josh?" I can feel my nostrils flaring, reacting to my emotions. I can't believe Poppy's jackass of ex-boyfriend actually came.

Josh goes in for a hug. "Hey, Lizzie! Long time, no see."

I outstretch one arm to set a distance between us. "Don't you 'Lizzie' me. You don't get to call me that. We're not friends." My frown intensifies. "What the hell are you doing here? How dare you?" I lift my chin up confidently.

From behind Josh, another man comes into view; beautifully dressed in a double-buttoned charcoal grey suit and a salmon tie, his caramel hair is a perfect complement to his deep blue, ocean eyes.

"Well, they seem to have an open door policy for assholes though, don't they?" I roll my eyes.

"Liz, don't do this..." Oliver begs. His eyes are pleading, his hands extended trying to reach me.

I breathe the scent I was so used to all these years. At this moment, it's like hands are squeezing, tightening my heart and all it's pouring out are painful memories.

"Shit, great. Where the fuck did you come from? Now, don't you think you're welcome here either."

"What did I do?" he says incredulously, raising both brows.

"Fuck me gently with a chainsaw
Do I look like mother Theresa?" I sigh.  "You know what you did, Olly. Don't play the fool."

"Look, Liz,"-Josh interrupts placing himself between me and Oliver, forcing me to turn my attention to him-"I come in peace. I thought I could enjoy the party, and maybe, have a word with Poppy."

I feel blood pumping, flowing towards my neck."Talk to P.? Have you gone absolutely insane? You must be out of your mind." I say taking one step to the side, obscuring her from his field of vision.

Behind us, Poppy is leaning against the bar, holding a champagne flute. Some guys are swarming around her; despite that, she's fixated, looking attentively at us. She is absolutely appalled, her face mostly drenched from any color.

"C' mon Liz, you used to like me. Hell, we used to be friends!"

"Yes Joshua, we used to, past tense, as in no longer true. Friends don't treat friends the way you did!" I feel my blood boiling and my anger brewing, my tone of voice raised.

I feel the light touch of a hand on my left shoulder and turn. "Pop, I've got this. Go back to the champagne and your friends." I try to dissuade her.

"Lizzie, I know you mean well, but you're attracting curious glances. I won't make a scene at daddy's birthday. It's fine, I need to do this."

She turns to Josh, determination clear in her voice. "You want to talk, Joshua, let's talk." I notice something inside her snap. Her fists are clenched, probably leaving indents on her palms.

Josh is open-mouthed, astonished to have Poppy actually agree to exchange words with him. He doesn't make a sound.

She reaches out an arm to him. "Today, Josh; and close your mouth. It's not your best look." He follows suit.

I am proud of my friend. Of course, I'd like to protect her from another heartbreak coming from the blond devil, yet, I am glad she is strong enough to take care of herself. Even though she was miserable all week and expecting him on his best behavior, something tells me she will be able to deal with whatever comes her way. This is Poppy, no matter how inconsolable she is, she won't let others witness it. I wish I had that self-control, only showing my emotions to those deserving. However, my feelings are always on the surface, itching to come out; normally they do, wreaking havoc all around.