Page 37 of Make The Cut

I shrug. “She’s a woman. There’s a lot of those in my life.”

Deep down, the casual lie burrows into the pit of my stomach and unfurls like a toxic weed. Poppy is far more than another woman in my life, but I don’t know how else to protect her from the mess that my life has become, if not by lying.

TJ’s swaggering bravado and faux nonchalance do nothing to keep my anxiety at bay. He reminds me of the same men I’ve known all my life, the Hollywood execs who think that money will buy them what their character—or lack thereof—can’t.

“Good. I’d hate for you to get toodistractedfrom your work.” He shakes his head. “Nice chatting with you, Naoya. Hope we don’t have to do it again.”

Chapter Nineteen: Poppy Black

I stare down at the blank page, wondering what to say. I mean, what do you even put in a birthday card besidesHAPPY BIRTHDAY?

It’s not like I’ve never given Naoya a birthday card before. Usually, I just find one with a cat on it and write his name inside to rub his hatred of cats in his face. So why am I bothering to write something creative in this one now?

Sighing, I pick up the pink gel pen and start writing my fifth draft.

Hey, Naoya,

Happy birthday! I hope you have a great one. I just wanted to thank you for all that you’ve done for me these past few weeks.

Ugh. I sound hopelessly cheesy.

I scratch out the lines into a glittery pink mess and start tapping my chin, trying to figure out how to phrase it.

But instead of words coming to mind, all I have is memories. Specifically, memories of Naoya Sugawa playing laser tag with me and then pinning me to the floor.

Oh, my gosh. Just the memory of that event freezes me to the spot and I drop my pen. He was closer to me than I’ve been to… Well, anyone, in a long time. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way his body felt against mine—how strange it was, to have known him for so long and never known how his fingers would feel against my skin, how the weight of him held me to the ground, like a security blanket. My cheeks flame red at the mere thought of the moment. And all I said to him wasI’m fine.

Really, Poppy?

Then again, it wasn’t like I could tell him to get off me. I mean, I could have, but…

A part of me didn’t want to.

Sighing, I scrap the birthday message and just pick a card from the drugstore aisle with a pre-written message and a picture of a frog blowing out candles on the front.

Naoya gave everyone the day off today without telling them why. It’s a Saturday, but in show business, there are only a few days off. He also invited me over to celebrate with him, which surprised me.

He usually never celebrates his birthday in any big or flashy way. Most people don’t even know when it is since it’s not even on his Wikipedia page. All that’s there is a rough approximation of his age based on the year he was born. I feel blessed to be let in on his secret, one of the few lucky ones.

I pay for the card and walk out of the drugstore and into my waiting truck. Naoya instructed me to show up at his house at ten am for a quote ‘birthday extravaganza.’ Intrigued, I followed his instructions, though it’s now nine-forty and with L.A. traffic the way it is, I may not make it to his house until ten-thirty.

Hopping in, I start driving, my fingers jittery on the steering wheel. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve given him birthday gifts before: patches for his denim jacket, a temporary tattoo or two, and hair dye as a joke. He’s always accepted and liked my gifts before—at least, I think he did.

In return, he’d give me concert tickets or one time, even an invitation to Paris Fashion Week before. That was the biggest gift anyone had ever given me for my birthday, even rivalling the time that my parents took us to Disney Land for my and River’s joint birthday gift, since we were born in the same month.

A Ryder Black song comes on the stereo and I immediately switch to a country station, my shoulders relaxing as an early-2000s Taylor Swift song starts playing, singing about white veils and looking like a pastry. The idea of hearing my brother’s voice again, even through a radio’s speakers, feels too raw. We parted on such bad terms that despite both our aborted attempts to reach out to each other, both of us must have realized deep down that it was for the best to be estranged for now.

I take a deep breath as I park in Naoya’s driveway.

Grabbing my gift bag, I march out of the car and up to his front door. Gustav frowns at me and asks to see the contents of my bag, as though I might be giving Naoya a box of anthrax or a cutthroat razor. I oblige, used to his gruff demeanour and over-protectiveness by now. Finally, he decides that the scarf I’m giving Naoya probably isn’t a life-threatening item, and lets me into the house after punching the security code.

I step inside. I’ve been to Naoya’s house on countless occasions; sometimes, we’ll even binge Netflix series together, or he’ll invite me over for dinner if I happen to be in the area. All his décor is the same. The same snake door knocker is in front of his house, the same cozy and eclectic nautical theme is present, and the same floor mats are still next to the dining table where he sits cross-legged to eat. It’s the same.

So why does it feel so different?

“Poppy?” Naoya’s footsteps thunder down the stairs as he comes toward me.

“Happy birthday.” I lift the bag toward him, and he takes it, carefully setting it on a side table before he hugs me.

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