by Vivian Wood
Besides, they were just juniors. It wasn’t their real senior prom anyway. He’d done his research and found out his cummerbund was supposed to match her dress. Ryan never thought he’d be wearing pink silk, but here he was. In his hands, he clutched a plastic box holding a pink poppy corsage. The florist had told him a bright pink would contrast nicely with her light pink dress.
He hoped the flower wouldn’t wilt until after the photos at least. “Ryan!” Poppy’s mom said. “What are you…”
“Hi, Mrs. Baker. Is Poppy ready?”
“Poppy? Well, yes, but…”
Her mom trailed off and opened the door wider. Inside, Poppy had a digital camera held overhead as she snapped a selfie with a guy he’d never seen before. Even in that small moment, he could tell the guy was from the prep school across town. It was in how he held himself; the high quality of the tuxedo was evident even from the doorway. Since when did Poppy hang out with guys like that? Or guys at all?
His own rented tuxedo suddenly felt unbearably cheap. It didn’t matter that for him, it had cost nearly a month’s salary. Working part-time wasn’t that big of a deal in their school. There were a lot of kids who worked. Some because they had to, like him, and some because they wanted the extra cash to upgrade the sound system in their secondhand cars.
Poppy didn’t see him, but he caught sight of Mr. Baker. The man beamed as he took the camera from Poppy and started directing them like he was making the music video of the year. “Put your hands on her waist. That’s it,” he said. The guy with the jet black, perfectly combed hair gripped Poppy’s waist dutifully.
She looked miserable, but she complied. “Smile!” her father said loudly, and she plastered a fake grin on her face. Poppy looked suddenly to the door, as if Ryan had called her. Since they’d met, they'd shared an uncanny ability to communicate without words.
He opened his mouth, but she shook her head sternly and bit her lip. In her eyes was a sorrowful apology. “Poppy! Pay attention,” her father snapped, and her gaze shifted back to the camera.
“I’m sorry, Ryan,” her mom said.
“Colleen, shut the goddamned door!” her father yelled. Mrs. Baker sadly shut the door and murmured apologies the entire time.
Shocked, Ryan descended the stairs and pulled the bow tie off his neck. Eli had helped him tie it after consulting a how-to video, and it had taken fifteen minutes. He undid the work in just a few seconds. What the hell do I do now?
He began to wander and saw Poppy’s neighborhood with fresh eyes. For all the times they’d ran and biked up and down these streets, he’d never really noticed them. The cracked sidewalks, the indoor furniture shoved onto so many front porches, and the piles of motorcycles on some of the lawns were all reminders of where they came from.
Funny how you can spend most of your childhood and youth not really knowing that you’re poor—until some rich kid from across town shows you without saying anything.
He heaved himself onto their special bench at Mitchell Park. Ryan hadn’t even realized that’s where he was going, but it made sense. The sunset was a romantic one, and he took in the blaze of colors on his own. How many classmates are watching this same scene, with their date pressed into their arms? Eventually, the purples and pinks gave way to blackness. Stars peeked through the veil of darkness. He hadn’t a clue what time it was.
He felt her presence before he saw her. Quietly, Poppy sat down beside him. “I didn’t want to go with Lawrence,” she said.
Lawrence? Was that really his name? Ryan bubbled over with so much anger, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“Ryan, I’m really sorry,” she said. “He’s—he’s my dad’s boss’ son. He’s seen pictures of me at work. Weird, right? That my dad would have a picture of any of us there? And he asked to take me.”
Ryan sniffed and looked at his hands, cupped in his lap. You couldn’t say no?
“I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t say no,” she said. He glanced up, but not at her. Could she really read his mind? “Ryan, please.”
He sighed. When she pleaded like that, she could break through him with ease. “How was prom?” he asked.
“Terrible. I mean, of course it was terrible. Cheesy streamers and balloons for decorations. The food sucked, you would have hated that.”
He laughed. “And what about your fancy-pants date?”
“Oh, wow,” she said. “Bad. Really bad. Apparently that whole eighties ‘prom is for sex’ stereotype is still lodged deeply in that jerk’s mind. He kept asking the whole time if I waned to ‘go under the bleachers’.”
“So, did you?” Ryan asked with a smile. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he wanted Poppy’s reassurance.
“No! Don’t be weird,” she said. “I told him he could go by himself. Then he said he had a hotel room downtown at the Ritz with strawberries and champagne waiting.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, and all I could think of was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I told him I didn’t have the boots or blonde wig for that.”
He laughed again. “I think you could totally pull off thigh-high boots and a hooker wig.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s why I’m back so early,” she said. “I know I was talking about this stupid dance forever, but…”
“But what? Are you okay? Did something else happen?”
She smiled grimly. “I took care of it myself. Besides, what I was saying was… it wasn’t the dance. It was going with you. With my best friend. I’m sorry, Ry. I messed up.”
He lifted his arm and she slid against his chest with ease. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his hand around her bare upper arm. “I’m sorry your night was so bad,” he said. “Both our nights could use a do-over.”
“It’s not so bad now,” she said, and looked up at him with a glint in her eyes.
“Cheesy,” he said.
“It’s prom. It’s supposed to be cheesy.”
“What time is it?” he asked her.
“You never wear a watch. Not even eleven,” she said as she looked at her slim golden watch. It was her mother’s, reserved for fancy occasions.
“It’s technically still prom night then. Here,” he said, and handed her the pink poppy. Miraculously, it still looked fresh.
“Oh, Ryan,” she said, a little sadly. “I really am sorry.”
He helped her put it on her wrist. “It’s okay,” he said. A dark car in the parking lot across the street turned alive with music. They both looked at it. There must have been kids making out and hooking up in the back seat the whole time he was here. He laughed. “Kids,” he said.
The car’s radio shifted into Shaggy’s “Angel.”
“Well,” Ryan said as he stood up. “Should we dance? Sorry, there aren’t any bleachers around here to invite you to.”
She rolled her eyes as he helped her up. “This is like, straight cheesy,” she said. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”
“Oh yeah,” Ryan said as he took her in his arms. “It was all part of my master plan to spend the night out in the park alone with a pink flower while I synchronized with the Honda in the parking lot for your arrival.”
Poppy laughed. “I’m sure,” she said. “But seriously, this is so much better than the real prom. And I’m sorry. Truly.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ryan said. He could feel the heat from her back through the slippery satin. She radiated it.
“That doesn’t make it okay,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“A lot of things aren’t okay. But this? This is pretty good. And at least this tux and horrible shoes get to show off a little bit.”
“Yeah, those are pretty ugly shoes,” she said.
“Hey! The guy at the shop said these were dope. Those were his exact words.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Ryan, if a salesman tells you something is dope, you probably shouldn’t get it.”
He shrugged. “Lesso
n learned. But how many other guys are dancing under the moonlight with a girl who ditched her date for them tonight?”
She slapped him playfully on the chest. “Probably only you.”
“See?” he asked as he twirled her in a circle. “The shoes work.”
18
Poppy
“This place is insane,” she told Sarah. They both shifted in the uncomfortable wooden seats, arranged in a semicircle around the dance floor that had been turned into a game show stage for the night.
“I know, right? And on a Thursday.” Sarah took small sips from her beer.
“There’s Ryan!” Poppy said. She lifted an arm to wave him over. The surprised look on his face told her he hadn't known she was coming. “Didn’t you tell him I was coming?” she asked Sarah as Ryan weaved his way through the crowd.
“I figured he’d assume,” Sarah said. She picked her bag up from the seat between them for Ryan to sit.
“I’m the peanut butter in a lady sandwich, huh?” Ryan asked as he sat down. Poppy offered up a smile, but it was forced. “Anyone else coming?”
“Nope, it’s a threesome tonight,” Sarah said with a wink. “Consider yourself lucky.”
“I always do,” Ryan said. He grabbed a handful of Poppy’s popcorn without asking, and she automatically angled the paper bag in his direction.
“Alright folks, it’s time to get started!” The emcee was a balding man with a paunch. “Now, as some of you know, this is a traveling show every Thursday night at various hot spots around town. To keep things interesting, every week it’s a new game, and we try to keep the details on the down low. You know what I’m saying?”
A few drunk people in the audience whooped and hollered.
“That’s right! Tonight’s game is all about how well do you know your partner?”
Poppy felt awkward as blood rushed to her face. Obviously you’re the odd man out. Or woman. Oh well, at least it would be entertaining and she wouldn’t have to worry about getting called up on stage.
Sarah gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know—”
“It’s okay,” Poppy said.
“We probably won’t get picked anyway. But if we do, we’ll all go up. Pinky swear,” she said, and held up a symbolic pinky.
“Do you two want to sit together?” Ryan asked as he munched through more of the popcorn. He didn’t take his eyes off the stage.
“You just be happy sitting bitch,” Sarah told him with a poke to his arm.
“Ouch! Watch those talons,” Ryan said.
The emcee chose some easy prey in the first row—two couples who were clearly in the honeymoon stages of their relationship. The first couple “passed” with flying colors, which moved them to the semifinal rounds. The second couple admitted they were just on their third date. They were clearly nervous, and Poppy thought it was cute. She began to relax into the fun of the evening.
She nursed her cocktail and stole glances at her watch. The whole thing was entertaining enough, but she couldn’t shake the idea she was crashing Ryan and Sarah’s date.
“And, I’m sorry, but with that answer you’re disqualified,” the emcee said. Poppy looked up, and the newish couple stood up to exit. “She answered that her idea of a perfect vacation is somewhere tropical, not a snow-covered mountain lodge.” The couple in the semifinal rounds smiled confidently from their corner.
Is it too early to call it a night? Poppy downed the last of her drink and started to wriggle on her jacket.
“Now, how about… you!” the emcee said.
“Me?” Ryan was caught with a fistful of popcorn halfway to his mouth.
“Yes, the handsome, muscular man in the middle there. Which one of those pretty girls are you here with?”
“Well, both—”
“Both! Lucky dog!”
“No, I mean, uh. She—she’s my date,” Ryan stammered as he put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder.
“Well, bring her on down!”
“Poppy! Poppy, come on,” Sarah said. She grabbed Poppy’s arm and dragged her up.
“No! Sarah, you go—”
“Come on! I told you we were doing this all together.”
Afraid to make a scene, Poppy let Sarah herd her to the stage.
“Oh, I see it is a threesome after all! That’s okay, let’s roll with this,” the emcee said. He gestured for an assistant to bring out an extra chair and situated the three of them on stage.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Poppy.”
“And your friend here?”
“Uh, Sarah.”
“Uh Sarah. Got it. Okay, I’m going to ask you some questions about your friend first to get things rolling.”
As he tore through the questions, she got one after the other correct. They were easy, especially since she and Sarah had lived together briefly in college.
“Favorite hangover food? Worst date? Drink of choice?” This is easier than I thought.
“Now, Sarah,” the host said. “I’m going to ask you some questions about Ryan. That is, assuming you know anything about him besides how good he looks in a T-shirt.”
Poppy saw Sarah tense up. Even though the emcee was joking, it was a sore spot for Sarah. She was notorious for ”not being able to keep a man.”
“Okay,” Sarah said, her tone determined.
“What’s his favorite hobby?”
“Eating.” Ryan laughed and nodded.
“Your first kiss?”
Poppy hummed in her head. She didn’t want to hear the answer, but saw Ryan nod again.
“Where was he born?”
“Virginia.”
Ryan shook his head. “Oh, that looks like a no! Ryan?” the emcee asked.
“Oregon. Long story, nobody knows that,” Ryan said apologetically. I knew that, Poppy thought. His mom had been traveling for work during her third trimester and Ryan had arrived early, a surprise preemie.
Poppy began willing Sarah to get the rest of the answers right, and she did pretty well. In all, she answered sixteen of the nineteen questions correctly.
“Now, whether this last question is answered correctly or not doesn’t really matter,” the emcee said. “You’re still doing well enough for the semifinals and the chance to win a gift certificate worth over two hundred dollars to this esteemed pub. But let’s make things interesting—Poppy? I’m directing the last question to you, and it’s about Ryan.”
Poppy sat up straight. “But first, do you know if Ryan went to his prom?”
“Yeah. He did,” she said.
“Great. What was the name of his prom date? His first prom date, if he went to multiple?”
She could feel Sarah’s eyes as they bored into her. “I don’t remember her name,” Poppy finally said. Sarah glowed, happy that Poppy wasn’t so perfect after all. She didn’t know Ryan that much better than Sarah did. Or at least it looked that way.
“Sixteen points!” the emcee said, and an assistant pointed them toward the semifinal table.
“I need to go to the restroom,” Sarah whispered to them both, flushed with excitement.
“I need another drink,” Poppy said, and raced to the bar.
She ordered an ice water, and felt a hand on her arm. “Poppy! What the hell was that?” She turned, and Ryan was right behind her. “How could you? How could you not—”
Poppy looked away, but he wasn’t going to give up. At the end of the long bar, they were in a quiet, dark corner with just a neglected jukebox. “Ryan, come on—”
“No,” he said. In one step he engulfed her personal space. She felt caged.
“Knock it off, this is stupid—”
She tried to move around him, but she was truly cornered. He pressed his body firmly against hers to keep her in place. The full presence of him chilled her to the bone. A hardness pressed into her hip and her eyes went wide. She’d never really been aware of him like this before, and the pressure of his cock against her shocked her to s
tillness.
Poppy bit her lip and looked down. What would he taste like…
Of course she’d had his lips, and not that long ago. The feel of his tongue working hers was still fresh in her memory. It sprung up at the most inopportune times, like when she was halfway through a shift. Or in the middle of the night when she really needed sleep but couldn’t stop the ache between her legs. But would he taste different? Better, somehow? Down there…
She wanted him so badly it knocked the breath out of her. It’s like there are two of you, Jekyll and Hyde. Which path are you going to take? Come on, come on, come on.
There was still a part of her that was hungry for Will’s path. At least there, she would have certainty. Follow Ryan’s path, and it would be straight down a rabbit hole to a fate unknown. “Ryan—”
“Poppy.” Was it her imagination, or was he pressing himself harder into her? The heat and pressure against her hip bone were too much to take.
“I have a boyfriend,” she said. Poppy shoved Ryan’s chest and forced him to back up. Just like that, the spell was broken.
“I know,” he growled.
“Then act like it.” She pushed past him and bolted out of the door into the cool sweetness of the night air. You’re an idiot for getting so close. Almost kissing him again.
She started walking toward her car, parked blocks away. Her phone buzzed at least a dozen times, but she refused to look. It would just be Ryan, apologizing again, and she didn’t have any room left for him in her head. Instead, she focused on keeping her heels from getting stuck in the sidewalk cracks and politely telling the homeless men huddled in the doorways she didn’t have any cash.
“Liar,” one called after her. Maybe he was right.
What is wrong with me? She couldn’t be having these feelings, these urges—not about her best friend.
19
Ryan
“Poppy, seriously call me back. I know you’re getting these.” It was the sixth message he’d left for her in five days. He’d stopped counting how many texts he’d sent. Ever since the incident at the pub, she’d been completely ignoring him. Sarah, however, seemed over the moon—something about that game show had really gotten her hot and bothered, even though they hadn’t won.
