Page 71 of Make The Cut

Gustav is being uncharacteristically friendly today. I’m in your living room.

Gustav told me that you’re in the recording studio with a guest. I’m coming in.

I open the door. “Hey, Poppy.”

“Hey, b—“ she pauses, taking a minute step back when she spots her brother at the piano, engrossed in constructing the perfect song for us to perform. “Hey, bro.”

“Poppy?” He doesn’t get up from the piano bench, instead, just turning to face her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just bringing Naoya some clothes,” she says. “I mean, because I work for him. And Rose. And the whole TV show, really.”

She holds up the garment bag, waving it around. “See?”

He turns back to the piano and plays a few more chords. “Cool.”

“I’ll just leave these… in your closet.” Then, more loudly, she says, “Where is your closet, by the way?”

I arch an eyebrow at her as we walk out of the recording studio. Instead of showing her to my closet, though, I drag her into the recording booth, a soundproofed room about the size of my shower. “You’re terrible at playing dumb and an even worse actor.”

“Well, that’s a horrible thing to say to your girlfriend.” She’s still smiling, though.

“I thought you were going to tell Ryder about us.”

“I know, but…” She stares at the garment bags in her hands as she lays them down on a chair next to the microphone. “I just need more time.”

“More time?” I repeat. “He’s been back for three weeks.”

“I know, but I just…” She sighs. “You don’t get it. You’re an only child. Having two older brothers…”

“I wish I’d had any siblings,” I deadpan. “But that was out of the cards.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but it just feels like Ryder and I have been fighting for so long that I just don’t know how to bring it up without annoying him all over again, and then we’ll get into another argument and it’ll be a whole thing, and…” She groans. “This is a mess.”

“We’rea mess?”

“Not you. Just my brother.”

“I wondered why he had such bad breath.”

That gets me a smile from her. “Shut up.”

“Make me.” It’s a line I’ve used countless times before—but with her, everything feels different. More genuine.

Poppy rolls her eyes but walks toward me, and presses her lips to mine. Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I set my hands on her waist, tugging her toward me. I nearly knock my head against the microphone and move back, until we’re flush against the wall. Her scent of lavender and honey dizzies me, and I have to remind myself that all that separates us from the next room is a thin partition and a barely soundproofed set of walls.

But I can’t get over the way she fits perfectly in my arms, or the softness of her skin as I cup her cheek, or the light gasp she lets out as I deepen the kiss. All of it makes me never want to let go of this moment.

Or let go of her.

Breathless, I pull away. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“I thought you wanted that.” A mischievous gleam shines in her blue eyes.

“Maybe, but I’m not interested in giving your brother a black eye before the Grammys.”

“See you tonight?” she says before turning down the hallway toward my closet.

“Of course.”

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