Page 26 of Never Have I Ever

Reception can be spotty based on the time of year, but I keep checking my phone for any missed calls or a text from Nikki. I have neither, and it’s getting late, so I probably won’t hear from her until tomorrow. Sucks to have to wait to figure out how she pulled off this scheme and, more importantly, why?

None of this makes sense.

I have more to deal with than when I arrived, and I’m still not sure what Poppy’s intentions were when she showed up. It’s like she doesn’t know me at all, like Austin was so forgettable that even seeing me doesn’t jog her memory.

Resting forward, I drop my head into my hands and rub my face. It won’t change anything other than scrubbing away some of the frustration she’s caused. Then and now. I should go to bed, get some sleep, and come morning, I’ll know if I only imagined the whole thing.

A soft rap on the door redirects me. Knowing who it is, I want to swing it open, kiss her to show her how much I’ve missed her, and make love to her again. But that’s not the Poppy who’s knocking. I don’t know who she is, not like I thought I did.

With my hands pressed to the wood, I debate whether to answer it. The lights are out, so she wouldn’t know whether I’d gone to bed or that I’m standing here dying to hold her in my arms again.

As much as she infuriates me by the lack of answers, confuses me with what she’s even doing here, and worries me with her knife obsession, I already know the answer. I open the door.

She’s changed clothes but still looks fucking amazing in a pair of baggy sweatpants and a sweater that hangs down to her thighs. She can’t even make the ugly pink beanie look bad despite it being embroidered with FARIS WHEEL – THE DeTOUR on it.

That’s it.

“Is this a joke?”

Holding the bag of food out, she shakes her head. “I know you haven’t eaten.”

“I’m done. You fucking win.” The words taste as bitter as they sound. I throw my arm up in the air, over all of it—her, this “vacation,” and every other fucking thing. I turn and storm toward the bedroom.

“Soooo, you want me to leave it on the island?” she calls, her voice tracking me down the hallway.

“I’d rather starve.” I slam the bedroom door behind me and pace in front of the windows. I don’t bother turning on the lights. I lie down instead, needing this nightmare to end.

9

Poppy

It was a peace offering.

Food. His food specifically.

Not a challenge.

Not meant as an insult.

Not even a rejection of the menu items he chose for us.

I don’t know how long I stand here, but long enough for it to turn awkward. Fairly certain he’s not coming out of that bedroom, I set the bag on the counter. Digging through an end drawer, I find a pen and scribble a message on it for him with a doodle. Not my best artwork, but it will do.

It’s probably best if I don’t deliver it in person. If he reacts like that to a food offering, who knows how he’ll react to a thank you.

He’d go bonkers.

I just need to accept that he has no interest in being friends, a new start, or any contact whatsoever. So why am I still standing here like he might?

My head tells me to get out quick. A swell in my chest tells me to stay.

“What do I do?” comes out on the end of a breath.

“The temperatures are dropping.”

When I look up, I’m met with the same blues that demand attention, but a sadness has permeated them since we met. “In here or outside?”

“Both could be said.”

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