Page 32 of Broken Rivalry

“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.

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