by Vivian Wood
Afraid to make a scene, Poppy let Sarah herd her to the stage.
“Oh, I see it is a threesome after all! That’s okay, let’s roll with this,” the emcee said. He gestured for an assistant to bring out an extra chair and situated the three of them on stage.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Poppy.”
“And your friend here?”
“Uh, Sarah.”
“Uh Sarah. Got it. Okay, I’m going to ask you some questions about your friend first to get things rolling.”
As he tore through the questions, she got one after the other correct. They were easy, especially since she and Sarah had lived together briefly in college.
“Favorite hangover food? Worst date? Drink of choice?” This is easier than I thought.
“Now, Sarah,” the host said. “I’m going to ask you some questions about Ryan. That is, assuming you know anything about him besides how good he looks in a T-shirt.”
Poppy saw Sarah tense up. Even though the emcee was joking, it was a sore spot for Sarah. She was notorious for ”not being able to keep a man.”
“Okay,” Sarah said, her tone determined.
“What’s his favorite hobby?”
“Eating.” Ryan laughed and nodded.
“Your first kiss?”
Poppy hummed in her head. She didn’t want to hear the answer, but saw Ryan nod again.
“Where was he born?”
“Virginia.”
Ryan shook his head. “Oh, that looks like a no! Ryan?” the emcee asked.
“Oregon. Long story, nobody knows that,” Ryan said apologetically. I knew that, Poppy thought. His mom had been traveling for work during her third trimester and Ryan had arrived early, a surprise preemie.
Poppy began willing Sarah to get the rest of the answers right, and she did pretty well. In all, she answered sixteen of the nineteen questions correctly.
“Now, whether this last question is answered correctly or not doesn’t really matter,” the emcee said. “You’re still doing well enough for the semifinals and the chance to win a gift certificate worth over two hundred dollars to this esteemed pub. But let’s make things interesting—Poppy? I’m directing the last question to you, and it’s about Ryan.”
Poppy sat up straight. “But first, do you know if Ryan went to his prom?”
“Yeah. He did,” she said.
“Great. What was the name of his prom date? His first prom date, if he went to multiple?”
She could feel Sarah’s eyes as they bored into her. “I don’t remember her name,” Poppy finally said. Sarah glowed, happy that Poppy wasn’t so perfect after all. She didn’t know Ryan that much better than Sarah did. Or at least it looked that way.
“Sixteen points!” the emcee said, and an assistant pointed them toward the semifinal table.
“I need to go to the restroom,” Sarah whispered to them both, flushed with excitement.
“I need another drink,” Poppy said, and raced to the bar.
She ordered an ice water, and felt a hand on her arm. “Poppy! What the hell was that?” She turned, and Ryan was right behind her. “How could you? How could you not—”
Poppy looked away, but he wasn’t going to give up. At the end of the long bar, they were in a quiet, dark corner with just a neglected jukebox. “Ryan, come on—”
“No,” he said. In one step he engulfed her personal space. She felt caged.
“Knock it off, this is stupid—”
She tried to move around him, but she was truly cornered. He pressed his body firmly against hers to keep her in place. The full presence of him chilled her to the bone. A hardness pressed into her hip and her eyes went wide. She’d never really been aware of him like this before, and the pressure of his cock against her shocked her to stillness.
Poppy bit her lip and looked down. What would he taste like…
Of course she’d had his lips, and not that long ago. The feel of his tongue working hers was still fresh in her memory. It sprung up at the most inopportune times, like when she was halfway through a shift. Or in the middle of the night when she really needed sleep but couldn’t stop the ache between her legs. But would he taste different? Better, somehow? Down there…
She wanted him so badly it knocked the breath out of her. It’s like there are two of you, Jekyll and Hyde. Which path are you going to take? Come on, come on, come on.
There was still a part of her that was hungry for Will’s path. At least there, she would have certainty. Follow Ryan’s path, and it would be straight down a rabbit hole to a fate unknown. “Ryan—”
“Poppy.” Was it her imagination, or was he pressing himself harder into her? The heat and pressure against her hip bone were too much to take.
“I have a boyfriend,” she said. Poppy shoved Ryan’s chest and forced him to back up. Just like that, the spell was broken.
“I know,” he growled.
“Then act like it.” She pushed past him and bolted out of the door into the cool sweetness of the night air. You’re an idiot for getting so close. Almost kissing him again.
She started walking toward her car, parked blocks away. Her phone buzzed at least a dozen times, but she refused to look. It would just be Ryan, apologizing again, and she didn’t have any room left for him in her head. Instead, she focused on keeping her heels from getting stuck in the sidewalk cracks and politely telling the homeless men huddled in the doorways she didn’t have any cash.
“Liar,” one called after her. Maybe he was right.
What is wrong with me? She couldn’t be having these feelings, these urges—not about her best friend.
19
Ryan
“Poppy, seriously call me back. I know you’re getting these.” It was the sixth message he’d left for her in five days. He’d stopped counting how many texts he’d sent. Ever since the incident at the pub, she’d been completely ignoring him. Sarah, however, seemed over the moon—something about that game show had really gotten her hot and bothered, even though they hadn’t won.
Fuck it, I’m going over there. Poppy’s schedule changed every week, so he wasn’t certain when she’d be off work. Her car wasn’t parked in its spot, which meant he could ambush her on the stairs when she finally got home.
He grabbed a book out of the trunk, along with a hoodie, and settled on the concrete steps for possibly hours of waiting. “You locked out?” a neighbor asked an hour later. It was an older woman with arms full of groceries.
“No, waiting on my—my sister,” he said. It might sound stalkerish if he said anything else.
“The girl in 312?” the woman asked. He stood up and took one of her bags to help her to the door.
“Yeah, Poppy,” he said. The woman shook her head. “That girl’s never gone.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll wait,” he said. By the time he saw Poppy’s car pull up, it was nearly dark and he had to squint to read in the dim stairwell lighting.
She walked up the stairs with heavy, tired steps. When she saw him, her mouth hardened. “Poppy, I’m sorry,” he said before she could get a word in.
Poppy looked at him, incredulous. “Sorry won’t cut it anymore, Ryan.”
“Come on, Poppy—”
“Don’t,” she said firmly. “Just don’t. Being sorry and then doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome—that’s the definition of madness, isn’t it?”
“I know, I know,” he said. “All I can say is I’m sorry. And hope that you’ll forgive me. I don’t want all our years of friendship to be erased. They’re more important to me than anything else.” It was almost impossible to get those last words out. A lump had formed in his throat and threatened to burst.
She eyed him carefully. Calculations raced across her face, and he didn’t know how he was being judged. “Alright,” she said finally. “You can be forgiven one more time. As long as you say it.”
“Say what?” He was totally lost.
“Apologi
ze for what you did, specifically, and I’ll be satisfied with that.” Her eyes carried a calmness, a coolness, that he’d never seen in her before. He couldn’t tell if it was a challenge or a dare, but he would have done anything in that moment.
“I’m sorry that I hit on you again. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“It shouldn’t have happened because…” she prompted.
“Because you have a boyfriend.”
“Because we’re friends,” Poppy said as she rolled her eyes. “Best friends. Not because of some guy, but because you should respect me more than that.”
Ryan lowered his head, truly ashamed. She was right. Why was he deferring to that jackass Will? It was about Poppy, about their friendship. He knew that. Ryan felt like a dog with his tail between his legs.
There was a part of him that wanted to argue with her. Make her admit she felt something between them, too—that he wasn’t alone in the attraction. But for now at least, he had to push that urge away.
Poppy didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t break her gaze. She was still deciding something, still unsure. Finally, she gave a slight nod and moved past him.
“Are you coming in?” she asked with a sigh as she unlocked the door.
Ryan followed behind her. “I need to change,” she said. “I wasn’t up for facing the locker room today.” She took her knapsack and went to her bedroom. She pulled the door behind her, but it didn’t close completely. There was a tiny crack, not enough to see anything even if he tried, but he couldn’t help but stare at it. Did she want him to follow her?
He sat on the couch, torn. Just knowing she had stripped down just a few steps away, that she was probably naked and sifting through her dresser, he got hard instantly. It put him on edge. “My Netflix has been weird,” she called from the bedroom. “Maybe you can get it to work, though.” Unable to stop, like something deep inside directed him, he leaned back to see if he could spot her.
And there she was. At the right angle, he saw her in violet underwear and no bra, though her back was to him. She’d untied her long blonde hair, and those now-familiar dimples on her lower back—the ones that seemed like they were made for his fingers—teased him as they rode right above the lace fringe of the violet material.
“Or I think I still have my Hulu subscription, if there’s something on that,” she called as she pulled on silk pajama bottoms and a pink tank top. “Will usually fixes it, but he’s stayed longer in LA.” With a practiced hand, she pulled her hair back up into a high, messy knot. “He seems to be doing good though. ‘Making contacts’ and all that. I mean, I’m happy for him, but it feels like the distance isn’t really making the heart grow fonder, if you know what I mean.”
She’d left the bra off. His cock jumped in his pants. He grabbed a throw pillow and put it over his crotch.
“But you know, I’m sure all that will be fixed when he comes back. Distance is hard,” she said.
He couldn’t agree more. Ryan pressed down on the cushion, trying to stop his erection in case she wanted him to get up.
“Ry?” she asked. Her head was poked out of the bedroom. “Are you listening?”
He realized he hadn’t said a single word since she went in the bedroom. “Yes,” he said with a smile.
“Okay. You’re being quiet. I want to wash my face; I feel gross after that fourteen-hour shift. Want to order a pizza and find a movie to watch?”
“Yeah, sure. Georgie’s okay?” he asked.
“Whatever. You’ll be the one eating ninety-five percent of it.”
He heard her pad into the bathroom en suite and the water turned on. Ryan looked up the takeout number on his phone and called in the order. “No onions,” he said.
“You sure?” the girl asked on the other end. “We have caramelized onions that—”
“I’m sure,” he said.
He toyed around with some of the Netflix settings until the error message disappeared. As he flipped through the recommendations, new releases and recently added titles, he was acutely aware of any plots that might be awkward. Romcoms were mostly out. Dramas were probably going to be too depressing. He was way too riled up to deal with subtitles, so that took international films out of the running.
By the time he heard the water stop, he was down to horror and thrillers.
“How long?” she asked as she emerged from the bedroom. Her face glowed. Without any makeup, she looked so young—like they were in high school again.
“Thirty, forty-five minutes,” he said.
She made a face. “I’m hungry.”
“It’s coming.”
“Horror?” she asked as she curled up on the other end of the couch. Was that intentional? Is she trying to keep her distance, or do we always commandeer opposite ends of the couch and I’ve never noticed?
“Not in the mood?” he asked.
“It’s fine,” she said. “You’ve just never taken a real interest before.”
He shrugged. “Things change.”
“Yeah,” she said, and stole a glance from the corner of her eye. “I guess they do. Just nothing too over the top,” she said. “I hate that. Gore for gore’s sake. I feel like I get enough of that in the ER rounds.”
He’d forgotten about that. About what her day must look like. “How about this?” he asked.
“Oh wow, Ryan. Visiting Hours? Seriously?”
“It’s got William Shatner in it!”
“The guy from the Priceline commercials? The one with Penny?”
He groaned. “I think you mean Captain Kirk.”
“Whatever,” she said. “He’s the guy in the commercial with the Big Bang girl to me.”
“Not feeling it?” he asked.
“Actually, it sounds good. I could use some mindless entertainment.”
“You know, I just realized there’s a lot of horror and thrillers about doctors. The Island of Doctor Moreau. Dr. Giggles!” he said as he flipped through recommendations connected to Visiting Hours.
“Don’t give me any ideas,” she said. “I’m so hungry and tired right now, I really could go on a murder spree.”
He laughed and finally felt his erection subside. This, them being in their groove, was what he was possibly giving up. And for what?
Ryan started the movie and Poppy grabbed a blanket from the end table. She didn’t have to say a word—just handed half over to him.
You can do this. It’s just Poppy. Why ruin this because of some stupid attraction that’s probably fleeting anyway?
By the time the doorbell rang with the pizza, she had moved to the center cushion and dozed off. Her head was in his lap, resting on the pillow. If only she knew the stirring she caused just a few inches below that quilted, flowery throw pillow.
20
Poppy
Poppy shrugged out of her jacket, untied her scrub pants and let them fall to the floor. She sat down on the bench in just her underwear and scrub top, too tired to care if any of the other interns came in. She was exhausted, but finally finished with one of the most grueling shifts yet.
Throughout the day, thoughts of her pizza and movie night with Ryan swam through her head. Everything should have been normal. They’d had similar nights ever since she could remember. But something was off, and she couldn't quite place it.
She felt a shift more than anything else. The way Ryan looked at her, and it wasn’t just him. Poppy caught herself as she stole glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. When they caught each other, a shot of excitement and nerves raced through her. Her heart kicked like never before, and try as she might, she couldn’t make it stop.
After he’d left and she tossed and turned in bed, she almost reached for her vibrator. It was a gift, perhaps a gag gift, from Sarah years ago. She’d used it a few times. It was a bullet, small and unassuming—and the only thing that brought her to orgasm. She resisted for a moment, knowing she’d just end up thinking about Ryan and that was the last thing she needed.
Wha
t the hell, why not? Poppy pulled the vibrator out of the drawer and slid, naked, under the covers. On its lowest setting, she held the vibrator against her nipple and closed her eyes.
One of her hands glided down her belly to her clit, already throbbing. Her wetness had already started to spread. Poppy bit her lip and moved the vibrator to her other nipple.
Suddenly, it was Ryan’s hand between her legs. “I love how wet you get,” she imagined him saying to her. She spread her legs wider below the covers.
He slapped her clit lightly with his palm and it made her gasp. She put the vibrator on her clit and turned it up a notch. In her mind, it was Ryan who held the vibrator to her, while he kneeled between her legs and stroked himself.
She bucked against the vibrator. Now it was his tongue on her, and he lapped her up like he couldn’t get enough. Her insides ached to be filled with him. “You taste so sweet,” he whispered up to her. She dove a finger into her pink folds and tasted herself.
Ryan’s five o’clock shadow raked lightly across her center, and it made her call out his name. “Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he said. She turned the vibrator up another click.
It was all she wanted. “Please,” she said. He put just the tip in her opening.
“Is this what you want?” he asked. She turned the vibrator to its highest setting, and he plunged all the way into her.
One hand held the vibrator between her legs, slippery from her wetness, while the other pinched her nipples.
Beside her, the phone buzzed with a text. She glanced at it and saw Ryan’s name pop up right as she climaxed. It was hard and intense, enough that it instantly knocked her out.
In the morning, she awoke to a nearly dead phone and a vibrator pressed against her thigh and covered in her dried come.
Her fantasy stuck with her for the entire shift. She was a little shocked about how wildly she’d used the vibrator. It was the first time it had ever made her come like that—maybe the first time she’d really come at all.
Once, when she’d had too much to drink, she’d brought up Will using it on her but he balked at the idea. Embarrassed, even in her alcohol-infused state, she’d never asked again.