"I had to see you," Upton said, running his hands through his tousled hair. "You left so quickly last night that I didn't have a chance to say good night."
"I thought that was because your tongue was otherwise occupied," I said sarcastically. I rolled away from him in the bed and hung over the far side to retrieve my jeans from the floor.
"I thought Poppy might have been the cause of your sudden departure," he said with a frown. I shimmied into my jeans under the covers and swung my legs around the edge of the bed to face him. He was only about four feet away, but the wall separated us.
"Wow. You're even smarter than I thought," I said.
Upton's frown deepened. "Reed, Poppy is not my girlfriend," he said in a quiet but firm voice. "She's simply a good friend with whom I've . . . for lack of a better word . . . hooked up with a few times this past year."
"She seems to think it's more serious than that," I said, crossing my arms over my chest and glancing at the clock on the nightstand. I needed something to look at other than those deep blue eyes. Otherwise I was in danger of blindly believing everything he said.
Upton laughed in a fond way. "Well, that's just Poppy. She's used
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to getting what she wants--and doesn't take no for an answer. Just one of her many endearing quirks."
"Obsessive delusions are an endearing quirk in your world?" I asked.
Upton smirked. "When it's Poppy Simon, yes." He took a deep breath. "Look, she wanted something more serious and I didn't, but she's persistent. I think she believes that if she calls me her boyfriend over and over again, I'll somehow start believing it's true."
I snorted a derisive laugh. "Whatever. I just don't want to get involved in some twisted love triangle," I told him. I got up and walked over to the window. Big mistake. The closer I got to him, the higher my body temperature rose. "I'd just like to pretend that last night never happened," I lied.
Upton reached for my hand. He pressed his thumb into my palm, causing my heart to skip an alarming number of beats.
"That's not acceptable to me," he said. "I can't pretend last night never happened."
I hazarded a glance at his face. God, those eyes. A person could die happy in those eyes.
"Upton," I said. It came out in a sort of begging tone. I had lost all conviction.
"Just let me take you out for breakfast," he said. "I must prove to you I'm not a jerk."
I smiled inadvertently. His accent made everything sound so endearing.
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Don't do it, Reed. Don't do it, a little voice in my mind warned. I stared at him, trying to picture a flashing neon sign in the center of his forehead that read CAUTION! GIRLFRIEND haver!
But I couldn't do it. Another look in those eyes and I was a goner.
"Fine," I said finally, "breakfast."
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CHAPTER 11 UPTON THE WISE
An hour later I met Upton on the beach, about a ten-minute walk from Noelle's house. As he saw me approach, he got on his knees and pushed up the sleeves of his navy-blue cotton sweater, exposing his perfect forearms.
"I've brought you three types of croissants," he announced. "That has to earn me some points."
He pronounced "croissants" with a flawless French accent. Could this guy be any sexier?
Do not get sucked in, I told myself, tucking my hands under my arms as I sat down on the gray flannel blanket. There was a stiff wind coming off the water, and my green hoodie was zipped up all the way to my chin, which had the added benefit of sending a clear message--not here to flirt.
"Maybe. We'll see," I said, checking out the rest of the spread. Laid out on the blanket were four separate platters heaped with fruit,
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