The morning light filters through the blinds, warming the room with its glow. I stand in front of the mirror, adjusting my shirt. Frustration fills me, and I try to shake it off. I wanted it to be only Poppy and me today, a chance to break down the walls she’s so expertly built. But I had to settle for a group outing, and the opportunity feels diluted, but it’s better than nothing.
I want to spoil her, to show her she’s worth the effort. But Poppy’s pride, her staunch independence, it’s a fortress I’m still figuring out how to breach.
I sigh, loosening another button on my shirt. Blue is her favorite color. It also happens to complement my muscles in a way I know she’ll enjoy. It’s a small vanity, but one I allow myself.
I’ve just made my way to the kitchen when footsteps echo behind me, and I turn to see Cole, his hair a tousled mess, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Look at you, all dressed up,” he drawls, scratching at his bare chest, eyes raking over my outfit with exaggerated awe.
I roll my eyes. “Your grumpy ass is up before ten. Color me shocked.”
He chuckles. “Going on a date?”
“Taking the girls to buy dresses for varsity ball,” I respond, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my voice.
He raises an eyebrow. “Girls?” He emphasizes the s, a teasing lilt in his voice.
“Yeah, these girls only move in groups, it seems. Told Poppy I’d buy dresses for the other two as well.”
Cole disappears into his room, emerging with his black Amex, extending it toward me with a flourish. “For Evangeline’s dress, my good sir.”
I snicker, pushing it back at him. “You do realize we have the same card, right?”
He pushes the card toward me again. “Yes, but I’m her date—I pay for the dress. I am a gentleman, after all.”
I roll my eyes, pushing the card back. “Come on, man, don’t overplay your role. I need you to—”
He slams his hand on the counter, his voice sharp, the playful glint in his eyes now gone. “Buy the fucking dress, Ethan, and move on.”
I whistle. “Okay, Mr. Romance Psycho, I’ll make her buy the most expensive thing there is and have her pick shoes to go with it.”
He nods approvingly. “And get the dress in red; it really suits her,” he adds before retreating to his room, leaving me shaking my head in amused disbelief.
I’m left in a momentary silence, pondering his abrupt mood swings, when suddenly, Liam’s laughter echoes from the living room, pulling me from my thoughts.
I look up to see him leaning against the doorframe of his room. “Now I need to find someone for Morticia.”
“She’s a pretty thing; it shouldn’t be that hard,” he replies with a playful glint in his eyes.
“She’s dangerous.”
“Like a slow loris?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“A what?”
“You know, slow loris.”
I look at him, still not computing.
“Those little guys are about the size of a teddy bear and look like a miniature Ewok, but they’ll bite if they feel threatened, and their bites are laced with a deadly, fast-acting poison.”
“Yeah, something like that,” I muse. “I see… How do you even know this type of shit?”
He pauses, a contemplative expression crossing his features. “I’ll be her date.”
My mouth hangs open, too surprised to say something right away. Liam doesn’t date students, and it’s something he makes abundantly clear to every girl coming on to him at parties, after the game, basically everywhere he goes.
“You don’t have to,” I manage to stammer out.
“I know,” he responds, a secretive, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips before he retreats back to his room.
What on earth is happening today?
With a shake of my head, I grab my keys and head to my car, driving to meet the girls at the mall. My car, spacious and luxurious, seems too empty, and I can’t help but feel a pang of annoyance remembering how Poppy immediately refused my offer to give them a ride.
They spill out of the aged Chevrolet, a cascade of laughter and chatter following them. Leaning against my polished Lexus SUV, I’m struck by their preference for the worn, cramped car over the spacious luxury I had offered.
What wouldn’t she do to limit her time with you? A voice whispers insidiously in my mind, and it stings more than I care to admit.
“Hi,” Poppy greets and my smile forms instinctively when I see her eyes quickly scan me, an appreciative blush on her cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” I say softly. She waves a dismissive hand, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. I mean it, though. Even clad in skinny jeans and a thick blue cable sweater, she takes my breath away, an effortless allure that she seems blissfully unaware of.
Eva, eyeing me from under her glasses, has eyes that are gentle and curious. She seems too sweet, too gentle for Cole. He’s going to devour her whole.
I look up to catch Nessa’s sarcastic, mocking blue gaze, noting how much she reminds me of Cole.
She smirks, looking somewhat devious. “Small Prick, don’t even dream of treating us like we’re your harem,” she greets, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I can’t help but laugh. Despite her abrasiveness, I kind of like the girl. “Perish the thought, Morticia,” I retort with a playful smirk, “some of us do have standards, after all.”
She straightens up, and the gracefulness of her movements always takes me by surprise.
“Indeed. We do,” Nessa replies sharply. “I would die if people thought I was with you.”
“At least your complexion would go with your style.”
I see appreciation in her eyes. Yep, that one is really like Cole.
“Here we go,” Poppy mutters, and I turn toward her, extending my arm to her.
“Shall we?”
She casts a brief, contemplative glance at my outstretched arm, a frown knitting her brows together. Then, without a word, she sidesteps me, choosing to walk ahead alone, her steps resolute and hurried.
“Burn!” Nessa snickers and rushes to join Poppy.
I follow them, my steps reverberating in the vastness of the mall.
Eva whispers, her voice a gentle murmur barely reaching my ears amid the mall’s ambient noise, “She’s been fighting for so long, I don’t think she remembers how to lay down her arms, how to surrender even a little.”
I glance down at her, surprised to see her there with me. I think it’s the first time she’s ever spoken to me. “It’s fine, I’m a patient man.”
She looks up and gives me a bright smile, revealing the gap in her front teeth, and I can understand now the obsession Cole has for the girl. But I also know that he is not good enough for her. Just like I’m not good enough for Poppy, but the big difference is that I know it, and he doesn’t.
We walk into the store with evening gowns, and I find a seat. Poppy turns to me, her eyes shining with apprehension and nervousness. “Promise you’ll be honest about how they look?” she asks.
“Always,” I reply, watching as she disappears into the fitting room.
I watch them going in and out trying on dresses, but the only one I really care about is Poppy. Each time she emerges, there’s a subtle tension in her posture, a hesitancy in her gaze, despite the stunning way each dress embraces her. It’s a far cry from the self-assured Poppy of our high school days, and the mystery of her change gnaws at me. When she emerges in a royal-blue dress that hugs her figure just right, my heart skips a beat. She looks stunning, and I can’t help but get lost in the way the fabric drapes so perfectly over her.
“That color suits you,” I can’t help but comment.
She gives a half smile. “You think?”
“Absolutely,” I affirm.
She clears her throat, and I lean to the side, trying to listen to what she is asking Nessa, who exited her own changing room in a black-and-deep-purple corset dress that frankly looks made for her.
A girl sidles up beside me, her voice a sultry purr. “You’re Ethan Hawthorne, aren’t you?”
The bubbling frustration reaches the top, and I don’t even try to be my charming self. “Indeed, I am,” I respond tersely, my gaze barely leaving Poppy for a second.
She smirks. “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Jenna.”
“Nice to meet you, Jenna,” I reply, my tone curt.
“I’ve come to get a dress for the varsity ball. I know one player will definitely ask me out.”
I nod absentmindedly, my eyes still locked on Poppy. “Yes, there are a lot of desperate guys out there.” I smile as Poppy twirls, checking the dress in the mirror. “I’m sorry, whatever your name, but I’m with my girlfriend,” I add, pointing to Poppy, who is now looking at us through the mirror.
My smile widens, both at the elation I feel at using this word when referring to Poppy and for the hint of jealousy I’m sure I see in her eyes as she looks at us.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”
“Well, I do. Excuse me.” I rise deliberately slowly from my seat and make my way toward Poppy, leaving the girl, nameless and insignificant, visibly angry behind me.
I approach Poppy, tenderly wrapping my arms around her waist from behind. My breath hitches as I lean closer, my voice barely a whisper. “You are breathtaking.”
She stiffens. “What are you doing?” she hisses, resting her hands on my arms, tightening her fingers, ready to pull them open.
“Just warding off a pest,” I whisper, my breath caressing her ear. Her eyes flicker to the scorned girl’s scowling reflection in the mirror, and I feel a subtle relaxation in her posture, a quiet acknowledgment of our silent pact.
She traces her fingers along the side of her waist, where once gentle curves used to be more pronounced, with a distant look in her eyes. “Maybe something more flowy would work better now. I don’t have many curves to complement this dress,” she ponders aloud.
I want to punch myself. It’s obvious that my words in the car the other night did some damage, which is as far from what I wanted as possible.
“You’ve always been perfect to me,” I murmur, my lips brushing softly against her cheek, staying a moment longer than necessary.
She looks up, startled, and meets my eyes. Something passes between us, but then her eyes widen. “Oh, the decoy!”
The what? I can’t think straight. I can only think of the softness of her skin on my lips and how her short, small frame fits so perfectly in my arms.
Her voice, a gentle whisper against the faint rustle of fabric, breaks through my daydream. “You can let go now; she’s gone.”
Who is what? I think, still in a daze, but reluctantly open my arms as she twists in them.
She hesitates, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of the dress. “I’ll take this one then if it pleases you,” she adds, a subtle vulnerability in her eyes. I nod, my throat tight, and retreat to my chair, her reflection in the mirror hauntingly beautiful in the royal blue.
Poppy’s words linger in the air, a subtle electricity that seems to hum between us even as she steps away. I watch her retreat back into the fitting room, the blue fabric of the dress whispering secrets as it slides along her figure.
I hear a snort and turn to Nessa, who rolls her eyes at me before disappearing into her changing room. She crosses her arms, her eyes gleaming with unspoken amusement. “Your subtlety could use some work, you know.”
I raise an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She snorts, a smirk playing on her lips. “Sure you don’t. Remember that Poppy’s been through a lot. Don’t jerk her around.”
I nod, seriousness settling over me. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She studies me for a moment longer before nodding, seemingly satisfied with my sincerity. “Good.”
The girls make their final purchases, Eva choosing a surprisingly expensive, elegant champagne-colored dress and a matching bag, while Nessa opts for the goth-like black-and-purple dress that somehow perfectly complements her sarcastic personality.
As we stroll through the mall, Poppy occasionally steals glances in my direction, her eyes revealing a flicker of wariness before she quickly looks away, maintaining a careful distance between us.
As the girls chat between themselves, taking the direction of the food court, my pace slows until I stop in front of a cell phone shop, looking at the shiny new smartphone in the window.
It would be so easy for me to go in and buy her a phone with a plan and be finally at ease knowing she would not be without credit again, but I also know how much she would hate it and how deeply she would resent me for it.
Joining the girls at the food court, I find Poppy sipping a milkshake while Eva and Nessa are in line for food. “Not hungry?” I inquire, my hand instinctively reaching for my wallet.
Her eyes flash a silent warning as she sips her straw, and my hands lift in a gesture of surrender.
“I can’t stay,” she admits, “I didn’t think it would take so long, and I have a shift.”
Eva and Nessa return, a tray of Chinese food in hand. “Let me drive you to work,” I offer, ensuring the girls can hear.
Eva checks her watch. “Oh! Work. I’ll take you.” She stands briskly.
Poppy’s expression wavers, but I hold my ground, silently confident she will accept my offer rather than inconvenience her roommates. “I have to head back anyway. Practice in a while.”
Her shoulders deflate subtly, signaling my quiet victory. “No, it’s fine. Ethan will take me. Can you take the bag home for me?”
Nessa nods. “No worries. And remember, Small Prick, I know how to hex.”
I laugh. “I’ll be nothing but a gentleman.”
The drive envelops us in silence, a frustrating void where I grapple with understanding our stance. I park in front of the pizza place, and she turns to me, her tone resolute yet tinged with something unspoken. “We can’t be more than this, Ethan. It’s not possible.”
My face remains impassive as I nod, but internally, a smile threatens to surface. Her words, though firm, echo an internal battle. Her conflict is palpable, and I can work with that.
“What time are you off? I’ll pick you up.”
“Did you miss the part where I said it can’t be more?”
“No, I didn’t. But we’re friends, right?”
She hesitates, her eyes searching mine. “More or less… old habits die hard. We used to be rivals for everything.”
I snort. “If only you knew…”
Her voice is soft. Weary. Resonating with me in an unexpected way. “It’s okay. I promised Mom I’d go home, and no matter what you say, it’s a place you’re not welcome.”
I shrug, pretending it’s not a big deal. “Okay, maybe next time.”
She shakes her head. “I keep wondering, being friends, you and I… it’s probably a waste of time.”
I turn to her, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
She looks away, her voice barely audible. “Our families, our history… they will never understand, and I won’t subject my mom to you or your family. We lost everything, Ethan, and we had no one. Trust doesn’t come easy for me. Sorry if I don’t see life the way you do, but I lost my illusions when we fell. Who is to blame is not even relevant—we can never be anything more. Our fathers’ scandal caused too much pain.”
It stings more than I care to admit, but my resolve hardens. I’m stubborn, and I believe, perhaps naively, that it can work. “Friendship isn’t too much, is it? What do you really have to lose, huh?”
She gives no reply, her silence loud and clear, and quietly, she exits the car.
I let her go, and my mind spirals back, recalling those days, a mix of anger and confusion always bubbling under my surface. My dad had painted Alan Lockwood as the villain of our story, and I swallowed that narrative without a second thought.
One night, after Alan was sent to jail, Poppy’s mom came to our doorstep, tears streaming down her face, a picture of despair. But what did I do? Nothing. I watched as my dad coldly turned her away. I even thought they had it coming for trying to dismantle us.
Does Poppy know about that night? How would her mom feel seeing me with Poppy now? A part of me wants to justify my past self, saying I was only a kid, barely seventeen, and that I couldn’t have done anything. But that’s not entirely true, is it? If I’d really wanted to, I could’ve stood up.
For a fleeting second, I see so much more of my father in me, and a wave of nausea washes over me. The realization that I might carry even a fragment of his deceitful nature is a bitter pill to swallow.
