by Lulu Pratt
Finn nodded approvingly. “Good work, mate. It’s perfect.”
The driver said he’d wait for us right there, and we got out of the car to explore the area. The building was crumbling – windows had been broken for centuries and the roof looked incapable of withstanding even the most minor squall.
And yet, the massive wooden door stood completely intact, with iron handles still affixed in place. I wondered if this was the only part of the “church” that received regular upkeep.
Finn spotted the door almost as soon as I.
“How about that?” he asked, gesturing to the wood.
“You’re the photographer,” I reminded him. “It’s your call.”
He smiled. “Good point. Go stand in front of the door and just… be beautiful.”
I walked to the door then swirled to face Finn. I wasn’t sure how to just ‘be beautiful’ – I wasn’t really positive it was a thing I could do with or without effort.
“Like this?” I asked, hands on my hips, smiling.
His eyes were kind. “Don’t worry about being nice, Poppy. Be you. Be a woman who’s just had a new experience. Show me her.”
I tried to recall the feeling of being in bed that morning, how I’d felt in Finn’s hands, the sensuality of being in a foreign land – both in an actual different country, and in being in a new place of my own mind.
Apparently this worked, because Finn grinned. “Wonderful.”
He took one picture after another after another, until at last, he was satisfied. In some ways, the session was nearly as erotic as our actual lovemaking that morning. Again, I felt that he saw me, that he respected me and equally, wanted to devour me whole. There was a push and pull between us, a kind of invisible string that we both tugged and released.
We abandoned the door, and I pulled out my camera to do a quick Instagram post of the surroundings, knowing my followers would be anxious to see the island’s natural beauty.
“Hey, lovelies!” I exclaimed eagerly, in my high-pitched ‘YouTube voice,’ which felt at such odds with the eroticism of my day. “The Caribbean is a literal dream.”
Finn, seeing that I was recording, jokingly leapt into frame.
“Do you know how wicked Poppy is?” he said to camera. “She’s a badass.”
I blushed. “I’ll have to edit that bit out and you’re thinking of someone else.”
He looked at me and smirked. “Oh, am I? Because I seem to recall this morning, you were–”
“Okay,” I said, quickly cutting him off. Into the lens: “This is Finn, folks, and he’s the photographer on this trip. He works for BeYou Magazine. You’ve definitely seen his pictures before. He’s like, a gosh darn superstar.”
Now it was Finn’s turn to look a little embarrassed.
“Oh, quit it,” he said with a friendly roll of his eyes. “You’re too kind.”
Finn waved into the camera and walked back to the car, allowing me to continue recording. I suspected that that was more screen time than he’d really volunteered to do in… well, ever. He struck me as someone who detested being on the other side of the camera – not the one in charge, but the one being watched and seen.
“Even though Regency kind of sucks,” I continued, “he’s pretty great.”
“Anyways, I’ll keep ya’ll posted through the day. So far, it’s been absolutely magical. My issues with Regency aside, I feel hashtag blessed.”
I turned off the camera, and watched Finn stroll to the van, pale arms swinging, long legs covering swaths of ground with each step.
Hashtag blessed indeed.
Chapter 19
FINN
I FOUND THAT I loved spending time with Poppy.
The way she moved through the world was nothing short of wondrous – she was so open, so interested, so earnest. What you saw was what you got. In an industry where duplicity was par for the course, Poppy’s honesty and kindness was bracing.
As we marauded around the island, ending up at private gardens, little cafes and even a tarot-reading studio, laughing and joking the whole way through, I realized that I hadn’t had this level of intimacy with someone in a long, long time. At least, not since I was a boy – prior to my mom abandoning me. Those memories were so old as to be nearly obsolete, but still, I clung to them stubbornly, like a fly who doesn’t know it’s in a web, clinging to the sticky entanglements to keep from falling – even if it means nothing but a delayed end.
We were stopping at a fruit stand on the road for a snack when my phone rang. I pulled it from the pocket of my shorts, and seeing that it was Janice, answered immediately.
“Hello hello,” I said into the receiver. “What’s doing?”
Poppy munched on some watermelon, her crunch audible as Janice replied, “Listen, kid, I’m happy you’re happy with this Poppy person–”
“What?” How did she know who Poppy was, or that I was ‘happy’ with her?
She ignored this. “But you can’t keep pissing off Chrissy. I know she deserves it, she’s a Grade A asshole, but she’s out for blood. She phoned Regency this morning and said that if you weren’t fired, she’d walk.”
I nearly dropped the coconut water in my palm. “She said what?”
“You heard me,” Janice replied, obviously irritated. “Lucky for your little Irish ass, Regency talked her down. We all know she’s evil, Finn, and everyone on this end is sure that whatever you did to provoke her was deserved. But she’s still the big kahuna. Whether you’re right or not, if you push her too far and she’s serious about these threats, you’ll be effectively cutting your ties with Regency.”
Poppy, seeing the petrified expression on my face, mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
I couldn’t respond. I was too busy processing this horrifying information. Chrissy had always been a bitch, but this? This was a whole new level. It must’ve been Poppy that set her off, I realized. She’d been mad when I rejected her advances before, but I guess it’d been palatable because at least I didn’t look interested in anyone else. Oh Christ, what had I done? I’d put myself, and more importantly, Poppy, in Chrissy’s line of fire.
“All right, Janice,” I replied finally. “I’ll do as you say, but I won’t be happy about it.”
She sighed. “I know. And I’m sorry that this is the way things are.”
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up.
Poppy had finished her fruit skewer, and was looking at me with concern. “Finn,” she said. “What was that about? It sounded serious.”
I opened my mouth, about to tell Poppy the truth, when I hesitated. Did she really need to know this? If I told her, she’d feel guilty and awful, even though it had nothing to do with her, that Chrissy was the one who was stirring shit that didn’t need to be stirred. Or Poppy could lash out like she had this morning. As much as I’d liked seeing that fiery side of her – and enjoyed having somebody else finally smack Chrissy down – I knew that Chrissy would be far crueler, vengeance-wise, to a woman than to a man. She just carried that amount of internalized misogyny.
So I made a choice.
I decided not to tell Poppy.
“Nothing,” I replied, forcing a breeziness that I didn’t feel. “My assistant just wanted…”
“Wanted what?” Poppy asked as I trailed off.
Shit. I really wasn’t much of a liar. “She just wanted to say that Regency asked for more ass pics and fewer tit pics. Apparently that’s ‘more modern.’”
Poppy sneered at this. “Jeez. Yuck.”
I nodded along with her dismay, feeling like a prick for lying. “Yeah they’re really… something else.”
“You could always quit,” she reminded me.
Or get fired, I thought with dark humor.
Aloud, I replied smoothly, “Then how will I pay for us to get some Coronas?”
Poppy smiled, and I strolled the few yards back to the fruit stand to purchase us the promised beers. What was I doing? Who was I lying for? And was it too late to take it back?
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Chapter 20
POPPY
THE REST of the day with Finn was blissful, even though he did seem a little out of it, following that call from Janice. He must’ve been real mad about having to shoot more butts, and I couldn’t blame him. That was such a weird thing to be told by your bosses.
What can I tell you about the other stuff we did? Not much, really. As they say, happiness is boring – it’s uneventful, it’s easy and it’s not ‘dramatic.’ We were simply, straight-forwardly happy. We laughed, we clinked glasses, we talked. Normal stuff, that with Finn, felt extraordinary.
Tuckered from a day of exploration, we hit the hay early. By unspoken agreement, we both slept in the bed that night. I had never shared a bed with a man before, but it was wonderful. We fell asleep facing one another and his gentle breathing soon lulled me to sleep. I woke up to find him cuddled up behind me, his arm holding me close. I lay there for several minutes frozen, filled with happiness, not wanting the moment of non-sexual intimacy to end.
Finn got up first and began getting dressed. I admired his naked body in the sunbeams as he flitted around the room, grabbing clothes without consideration.
“So you’re doing the hotel shoot today?” I yawned.
He nodded. This had been one of the only firmly booked days on our schedule, because it required advanced planning. Finn was to take photos of the models – half naked, as usual – at a local luxury hotel, the nicest on the island. If you’d asked me two days ago if I’d want to partake in such a day, I’d have given you a hard ‘no.’ Now, I thought that, though the activity itself would likely suck, spending any time with Finn would make up for it.
“When are we leaving?” I asked, having made up my mind.
Finn stopped mid-movement, and looked up at me. “‘We’?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I figured I might as well go see the hotel with you. I hear it’s beautiful.”
His eyes darted down – a little guiltily, I thought – and he swallowed. “Maybe you should hang back on this one,” he suggested, his tone casual.
“Oh.”
I hadn’t expected that. After all, we’d had such a good day yesterday, I’d just figured… you know. I felt like such an idiot.
“Never mind,” I added too hastily. “It was just a stupid idea, it doesn’t matter, really.”
Finn’s expression was pained. “No, no, it wasn’t stupid, I just think… since you and Chrissy have rather, ah, butted heads, that maybe it’d better for everyone if you didn’t join. Just so we can have zero distractions, right?”
Of course. Why hadn’t I realized that? He was thinking of what would be best for the final outcome. I wished I could always be so business-minded. Instead, I found myself feeling a bit hurt over this perceived rejection, however silly it may have been. Why couldn’t I separate my heart from my mind? Why did I always have to think with my emotions?
“I totally understand,” I replied, though that was a mixture of truth and aspiration. “Can we at least make breakfast?”
“Of course,” he said, his face breaking into a broad grin. “I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.”
We walked downstairs and into the kitchen area, and Finn pulled a basket of fruit from the fridge.
“Let’s make something delicious,” he said.
I was halfway through making one of those fancy fruit juices, with Finn busy arranging cut strawberries on our almond butter toast, when the models came downstairs, Chrissy in the lead.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice icy. “Finn.”
He looked at her with a lethal expression. “Chrissy.”
“We’re going to have such fun together today. A glamorous hotel on a remote island? I mean, how romantic can you get?”
His mouth became a thin, grim line, so sharp it could cut glass, but he only replied, “Yeah.”
That was weird. Really weird. In the past, he’d openly, easily shot her down, never seeming to care much about her good opinion. Now, he didn’t even put up a fight, just laid down to take it.
You’re spinning out, my brain reminded me. They have to spend a whole day together. He’s probably just being nice.
Right. Or at least, that was what I would choose to believe. Because I deeply didn’t want to consider the alternative.
Finn took his breakfast to go, waving me a goodbye before strutting out of the villa with the models in tow. No kiss, no touch – nothing. Then again, even though I’d declared to everyone yesterday that we’d slept together, it was probably unprofessional to say anything further, to engage in any displays of affection. His lack of contact was a painful reminder that my outburst yesterday wasn’t the most brilliant of ideas.
I needed to clear my head from all these confusing thoughts of Finn, so I grabbed my phone off the countertop and called April.
She picked up on the first ring. “Poppy!” she screamed. “How’s the freaking Caribbean?”
“Amazing,” I said, smiling. Her brightness was infectious, and reminded me of the person I was – not this new, emotionally confused young woman. “You gotta come here sometime, April. It’s like something out of a dream or a travel magazine.”
She sighed happily. “I’m so jealous,” she said. “But mostly, I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I replied. She knew how to make me feel better.
I grabbed my finally finished juice, took a sip and began to stroll around the house.
Hoping to get my mind off things, I asked April, “So, what have you been up to?”
“Why are we talking about me?” she groaned, then answered, “Nothing as exciting as being on a tropical island, obviously. Mostly just prepping for Easter services. You’re coming home, right?”
I’d almost forgotten it was next week. I guess a whirlwind island visit will do that.
“Of course,” I told her. “I wouldn’t miss it.” April’s Easter services were awesome. Just like I shone on camera, she shone from the pulpit.
“Okay, great. Then that’s literally all that’s going on with me. Tell me more about the island! I’m your big sister, I want to know everything.”
I bit my lip. Should I tell her? What would she say? Oh, who was I kidding – I had to tell her. There was nothing off limits between me and April.
Finally, I said, “I’m gonna tell you something, but don’t freak out. Promise?”
Her voice went up an octave. “Are you all right? Did something happen? I swear, I’ll kill a man, what do you need, I can be on a plane–”
“Calm down,” I instructed. “It’s not that. It’s…” I gulped, and took a deep breath. “I had sex.”
Screams. Many screams. I pulled the phone away from my ear, worrying that if I listened to her shrieks for too long, my hearing would be permanently damaged.
At last, she said, still in a decibel too high for normal conversation, “With who? When? You know what, just start at the beginning. Should I make popcorn?”
I laughed, and feeling relaxed for the first time that morning, launched into the story of Finn and I – apparently, we were a ‘story’ now – our day together, our chemistry, how he’d fought Chrissy for me. Then, later, the tiki bar, the hot tub, and finally, the following morning, my first sexual encounter.
April made appreciative noises throughout the story, asking questions in all the right places, clapping and hollering when appropriate. She was the ultimate team player.
When I drew to a close, she said, “I’m so proud of you, Poppy. Not just for having sex, not even that. But because you let somebody else in, and I know how hard that can be for you, to allow yourself to do something you perceive as ‘wrong.’ That was a really big step.”
“Thanks,” I replied, though her words had already gotten me thinking about what other things were ‘wrong.’ “April… can I ask you something?”
“You already know that you can.”
“Right.” How to word this. “What if I – what if, in the long term, I can’t be w
ith Finn? Like, in a partnership?”
The question had been dogging me since, well, the first second I’d seen him. I’d known that I was attracted to him, even if I hadn’t wanted to admit it then, but I’d also known we, as a couple, didn’t make sense. I was a goody-two-shoes Christian make-up vlogger, and he was a bad boy lingerie photographer. What the heck did we have in common? And then, this morning, even after the awesome day we’d spent together, he’d been so distant, so inscrutable. As much as I thought I wanted to be with him, to explore our connection, I had no guarantee that he felt the same way.
April thought long and hard on this question before at last replying, “Poppy, we can’t see into the future. We’re not God, you know? We can only do our best with what we’ve got in hand, to make decisions that feel good and don’t hurt others. Worrying about being together, down the line, it’s a fool’s errand. Of course you should have open communication with your partner, but you have to live in the moment.”
I sighed. “Why d’you have to be so dang smart?”
April laughed, “It’s part of my charm. So… what comes next for you and this Finn boy?”
Whew, that was a big hunkin’ question. What did come next? Could I move past my jealousy, my dislike of his job and his politeness to Chrissy?
“Whatever you do,” April added, “you let that boy know that your big sister, April, will slap him silly if he tries anything fresh. All right?”
I smiled – April really did always have my back. “Will do.”
“Okay, Poppy. I love you. And I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I whispered. “Love you too.”
And then I hung up.
Chapter 21
FINN
THE HOTEL was magnificent – there were pool mosaics by famous artists, private areas exclusively for the rich and famous, which today, included us, and waiters of both sexes dressed in skimpy swimwear.
Yet I couldn’t quite find myself able to give a damn.
