Page 26 of No First Kisses

When he follows me inside a few moments later, he stops short.

“Yeah,” I answer his unasked question.

On the wall are all the photos that had ever been taken of Poppy and me together. Not only that, but the photos of our families. There are a lot. Picture after picture, framed and lining the walls, telling our story. Our parents were friends before we were born. Poppy’s older brother, Sam, was—and still is—one of my best childhood friends, and our entire youth was spent together.

Dean isn’t the only one to pause when he walks in. Sam laughs and touches the frame of one of my favorites.

“Is that Poppy the night of our prom?”

He comes up beside me, a smile still on his face. “Yeah, that’s her. I still can’t believe she thought that was the right thing to wear.”

Poppy, thinking I didn’t mean it when I asked her to prom, decided that she’d wear pajamas when I showed up to remind me why I shouldn’t mess with her. Except, I did mean it. It was the first time I’d ever worked up the courage to actually ask her out. And when she realized I wasn’t just being a jerk, she ran upstairs and got dressed in less than ten minutes. The photo in question was taken when she came rushing back downstairs, and all of us were there together. Me, Charlotte, Emily, and Finn standing together, with Poppy by my side next to Sam and Evie. All of us dressed to impress. The only one missing was Bax, who spent that night sick in bed.

Poppy stole the show, though. Wearing a dress that I couldn’t even call green at the time, because it was so much more, shimmered under the soft light in her house. And her hair, which she never quite controlled, fell free around her shoulders.

We laughed, and I got to wrap my arm around her for the first time, as more than a friend.

That night was the beginning of the end, and none of us realized it.

It was the last picture I had of Lettie. The last one taken before her overdose.

“Sorry I missed the camping trip.” Sam claps me on the shoulder, taking away the sting of that particular memory. “I had a run for the prez that couldn’t wait. Thank you for saving her, though. Don’t know what I’d do without her.” He clears his throat unnecessarily. “Pipsqueak causes more trouble than she knows.”

“That’s the truth.” Dean grunts from next to me, his eyes locked on one of the other photos on the wall. “You plan on taking any of that down before she sees it?”

“No,” I tell them both, an edge of finality in my voice. “She deserves to see it all. To have all of me.”

Neither man says a word as we stand there for a few moments, remembering a life before chaos and destruction rained down on both of our families.

Silently, I think back to her words in the dark of night. To the fact that she said nothing changed.

She’s right.

Nothing has changed.

I still love her just as much as I did when I was eighteen and didn’t know what love really was. Just as much as I did when I held her hand the night of my junior prom, when she was a freshman, and I had to hold my breath because her smell almost drove me over the edge.

Even then, when I had no clue what my actions would have cost in the aftermath of Lettie’s death, I loved her more than life itself.

I meant it.

Nothing’s changed.

My feelings for her have only gotten stronger with time.

But maybe, maybe it’s time that I sit down with her so that I can make sure she understands exactly what I’m talking about. What’s at stake with the two of us being together.

It’s not a decision I can make on my own anymore.

Maybe it never was.

“Let’s get this shit done already.” I clear my throat, ignoring the knot of emotion in my chest. “The beer’s cold, the boxes are heavy, and I’ve got pizza on the way for dinner.”

9

POPPY

Logan finds me standing in front of the massive wall full of pictures. Pictures of my life. Like a love letter that he never got around to sending.

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