by Mariah Dietz
Now, Mom still likes to do the cooking for holidays and on weekends, and their balance gets easier as we’ve gotten older, requiring less of their time and attention.
I fill a plate and follow Mom out to the living room where Grandpa is nursing a beer.
“Where’s Camilla?” I ask between bites of chip. Grandpa remarried a couple of years ago to a woman he’s known for twenty years through his church. The two are inseparable most days.
“She has a friend in town from Arkansas. The two of them have been shopping and going out to lunch. I think they’re getting their nails done today.” He shakes his head slightly as if to say he really doesn’t have any idea, though I’d bet a free Saturday that Gramps knows exactly where she is. But at seventy, he’s still too cool to reveal his soft side.
9
“Do you want something to eat?” Poppy asks.
I glance at her balancing her nachos and tater tots in one hand and her slushy in the other long enough to confirm they’re not going to spill on me or the people in front of us. “I’m good.”
I’m out of breath from rushing here after my co-worker Rachel offered to close after we had the final rush that came for our buy one get one free coffee special. The parking lot was a zoo, making getting here feel like a marathon. Finding Poppy in the student section was tougher than finding Waldo and his damn little dog’s tail.
“Are you sure? I got popcorn, too.”
I look at her again, taking a fresh inventory of her lap. “Where?”
She drops her gaze to the bag between her feet. “And some cotton candy.” She rifles through her snacks with her eyes. “Oh, and peanuts.”
“How much did you spend?”
“I’m hungry,” she says. “And everything looked really good.”
The skies are clear tonight, making it the coldest night we’ve had this year. After rushing and walking so far, I’d begun to sweat, which is now making me feel even colder. My cheeks and nose are sure to be red. I tug on the sleeves of my sweatshirt to bring it closer to my skin, wishing I’d have thought to bring a coat or blanket. “It’s freezing tonight. It feels like December.”
Poppy shoves the nachos at me. “The cheese is still warm.”
I shake my head again.
“This isn’t even a big game,” she says. “They’re guaranteed to win.”
“I know, but Eastern Washington got Porter this year, and he’s one of the best defensive tackles in college right now.”
Poppy shakes her head. “Defensive what?”
“Tackles.”
“They go after Pax?”
I shake my head. Poppy’s been coming with me to watch Paxton’s games since we were in middle school and he was in high school, but she’s always paid more attention to the concession stands and spectators than the actual game. “They block the wide receivers so they don’t get a touchdown or gain yards.”
She grins. “It’s cute that you’re worried about your boyfriend…” Her mouth pops open. “Oh, wait. Which boyfriend are we talking about?” She makes her eyebrows dance, and then smiles broadly.
“Paxton doesn’t like Derek. I don’t think Lincoln or Arlo do either. It was really tense at a couple of points last night. You should have been there.”
“Trust me, if I wasn’t stuck with Dylan, I would have. I would much rather have been eating dinner with you and the starting lineup of the football team than listening to him practice his piano lessons. I seriously contemplated putting on a cartoon and setting the alarm and coming over no less than a hundred times.”
I grin. “You should’ve.”
Poppy releases a nearly silent chuckle as she shakes her head. Neither of us have a very long history when it comes to breaking the rules. We both excelled in high school, and much to Maggie’s dismay, neither of us hated those years. We were never popular. We were also never unpopular. We had each other and would occasionally branch out and spend time with others, but we always came back to our duo, and that was always enough for us. We studied and helped plan the school dances and prom. We joined Leadership and made tacky posters with extra glitter to hang on lockers and Key Club, where we worked with the local Lion’s Club to help fundraise coat drives and food drives for the community. We had our moments of being boy crazy, helping each other learn our crushes schedules and interests so we could accidentally run into them, or squeal to each other when one of our crushes even looked our direction. But then junior year, Poppy fell for Mike Rio, and Mike fell even harder for her, and our days of chasing crushes and talking about stolen glances ceased.
At the time, I struggled with it because our duo hadn’t grown into a trio. Instead, Poppy and Mike often spent time alone together, leaving me at lunch period and study hall. It wasn’t until several months later when my relationship with both Maggie and Paxton had strengthened, along with my friendships with others who had been more of acquaintances up until that point, that I realized while I’d missed Poppy, I had gained a lot as well.
Mike and Poppy broke up two months ago. I knew Poppy had been considering it since March when he had been accepted to a school in Arkansas, but the reality of the breakup still hurt her. I spent the first week of their breakup attempting to cheer her up with movies and junk food, offering her enough diet soda to fill a small swimming pool. When that didn’t work, I forced her out of her parents’ house and brought her to the airstrip out by the airport—a place we used to spend a lot of time before Mike. We’d lie out there and watch the planes and hang from the monkey bars on the playground they’d built nearby in anticipation of families coming. That didn’t work either, and so I spent the next several weeks throwing every ounce of effort into trying to make my best friend remember we were fine when it was just us.
I’m still not positive she remembers.
Poppy clears her throat. “Back on subject, it doesn’t matter if Paxton likes Derek. It matters if you like Derek.”
“I don’t even know him.”
“Do you want to?”
I watch as Paxton breaks the huddle, getting into their offensive set. Both Derek and Lincoln are out on the field. Derek is shorter, his thighs wider. He’s strong and fast, making him a favorite for many when he receives the ball. He has bright white gloves on tonight and a sweatband above his right elbow. Lincoln is on the far side—the weak side of the field, a pair of gloves tucked into the back of his pants, and a full sleeve on his right arm. His shoulders are broader, and while speed is an asset Lincoln is famous for, it’s his agility that makes peoples’ jaws drop.
“So, seriously, who are we cheering for tonight?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re cheering for Brighton.”
“Still Lincoln. Got it.”
I’d like to tell her she’s wrong. That it doesn’t matter who scores, as long as we win, but I’m not that convincing of a liar, so I sit back, my attention glued to the field and Lincoln’s jersey—number forty-four.
My voice is hoarse, and my blood is pumping so fast you’d think I had just run the final touchdown rather than Lincoln. The game was incredible. A feat that was expected but not with nearly as high of a point spread, but Lincoln ran circles around Porter, making it look effortless to score against him.
“The parties tonight are going to be insane.” Poppy’s eyes are bright with excitement. “You should text Paxton and see where they’re going.”
“I don’t know. I think they’re all going to get wasted tonight because they’ll have an easy practice tomorrow.”
Poppy leans forward in her seat. “Come on. It’ll be fun. We won’t be crazy like the rest of them. We’re just going to have a good time. Besides, the only way you’re ever going to get over him is by finding someone else you are interested in.” She takes a fleeting glance at the field. “Whether that’s Derek or not.”
“I can’t date Derek. He’s on the football team, too.”
“Yeah…” Poppy lifts a shoulder. “But he’s also not your brother’s best friend.”
“No. Instead, he’s his enemy.”
She laughs, her empty food containers spilling to the ground as her laughter grows into a giggle, her chin tilting downward and her eyes closing.
“Mmhmm, hilarious.”
She clutches a hand to her chest, trying to stop her outburst. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. But it’s a little funny.”
“With my luck of exes, I’d date him, then he and Paxton would get into a fight and both would be arrested by my aunt.”
Poppy laughs harder—louder. She reaches forward and grips my knee for stability. Slowly her laughter calms. “Rae, we need to go. You need to go. This is college. We are guaranteed to find some nice, single, hot guys. The odds are in our favor.”
“Okay, but how about we go to a different party? There has to be a million of them. We could go to one of the dorms or something.”
“I don’t think that’s how this works…”
“Sure it is. Fake it till you make it. It’s become my anthem.” In more ways than one.
Poppy gives me a pointed look. “Let’s just consider the possibility that we go where the team does.”
“I already did.”
“Raegan Eileen Lawson, stop being a pain in my ass.” She shoves a wad of napkins dyed yellow from the fake nacho cheese into the plastic bag at her feet. I help collect more of the garbage spread among our seats.
Poppy straightens when my phone beeps with a text. “Is it Paxton?”
“I doubt he’s messaging me now.”
“He might be. Maybe Lincoln asked him to.”
“Yeah, and maybe I’ll win the lottery.”
She waves my words away and reaches into my purse, digging till she finds my phone. “Derek?” She reads is name like a question. “You didn’t tell me you exchanged numbers!”
My heart rate quickens. “He asked for it last night.”
Poppy slowly lifts her gaze, meeting mine. “And you’re just now telling me about it? Are you going to read it?”
“Would you let me say no?”
She shakes her head.
“I didn’t think so.” I slide my thumb across the screen to open the message.
Derek: Hey. You interested in going to that party tonight?
“Is he asking you out?”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t say with him.”
“No, but it’s implied… Right?”
“I have no idea.” I stare at the words, reading them again and again. “But regardless, we now have an option.”
“Do you think Lincoln and Paxton will be there?”
I shrug. “Doubtful.”
“But other football players might, and maybe the rugby team.”
“Viable.”
“Let’s go!”
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, considering how to sound as casual as he does.
Me: Where is it?
“Oh. Nice response. It makes it look like we have options.”
“We do,” I remind her.
“Not ones from hot football players.”
Derek: A house party over on Roseland Ave. Know where it is?
Poppy scrunches her nose. “Do we ask what kind of party it is? I mean, he wouldn’t invite us if it was just alcohol and drugs or something, would he?”
“I doubt that’s the kind of party he’s going to. He’d lose his place on the team if he was caught doing drugs.”
She nods. “Tell him we’ll meet him there.”
Me: I know the area. Text me the address, and we’ll meet you there.
“Step one of getting over Lincoln, complete,” Poppy chimes.
10
Poppy’s eyes light up as she scans the crowd. If parties were rated based on those attending, this party would be given an A+ by my best friend. Not only is the football team here celebrating their victory, the rugby team is here, as well as members of the baseball team and the basketball team.
“There are so many people,” I say, gazing across a sea of smiling faces all packed in here ready to celebrate.
“I see Candace.” Poppy juts her chin forward toward Paxton’s long-term on again off again girlfriend.
“Don’t let her see you,” I tell her, tugging her back a step. “I can’t deal with her drama tonight.”
“Good backup option, though,” Poppy says. “You have to admit, life around her is never boring. Plus, where she is, usually Pax is close, and where Pax is…” Lincoln is.
I chase the ghost of her words away with changing the subject. “Have you heard from Chase?”
Her smile falls. “No. I tried texting him yesterday to ask if he was coming to the game, and he never responded.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He had really short fingers, and while that theory might not be entirely true, I have to admit I was concerned.”
“Are we looking for someone else on the rugby team?”
She lifts her shoulders noncommittally. “Maybe?”
I try to smile, but a dose of sadness sits in my gut. Watching her endure heartbreak and work so hard to pretend it never existed now that she can get out of bed, was the biggest incentive and inspiration for rule eight to not date Lincoln: Never date someone if you know they’re going to break your heart. Lincoln was sure to break my heart. Maybe not intentionally, but even trying to move past my crush on him sometimes feels painful, and I can’t imagine what it would feel like to lose more.
“Three o’clock,” Poppy says, squeezing my hand.
I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see dark hair and darker eyes. I scan the area twice before recognizing the blond hair and caramel eyes that she’d been referring to. Derek. He notices my stare, his gaze meeting mine. There’s a couple of guys from the football team and a few more I don’t recognize and several girls I don’t know gathered near him. He lifts a finger, indicating he’ll be over in a second.
“He likes you,” Poppy whispers.
Derek smiles, his attention still on me as I nod with understanding.
“I’m going to get lost before he comes over here. I’m going to get a beer and maybe find a baseball player to talk to.”
“No. Stay. You read people better than I do.”
“I’ve already told you that he likes you.”
“But I want you to make sure it’s with good intentions.”
“Good intentions being naughty intentions?” Her eyebrows dance with insinuation. “Oh. I see Arlo.” She goes up on her toes, and I hold my breath, waiting for her to confirm she also sees Lincoln.
“Hey, Rita, right?”
Laughter tickles my lips. “Nice to see you, Dwight.”
Poppy looks between us, eyebrows lowered with confusion.
“Derek, this is my best friend, Poppy. Poppy, this is Derek.” After feeling like the third wheel for two years, I’ve realized how important it is to date a guy who likes your friends and vice versa.
He extends a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Poppy.”
“Can I call you Dwight?” she asks.
Derek laughs. “I can’t promise I’ll respond.”
A girl stops beside him, placing a hand on his bicep. “Hey. You had a great game tonight.”
He gifts her with a smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Her smile grows as she introduces herself, only looking at Derek as she speaks.
“It’s nice meeting you. I’ll see you around.” He takes a step forward and doesn’t look back as he threads his arm over my shoulders. “You guys want to get something to drink?”
Poppy smiles at me, but I see past her façade. There’s sadness in her eyes as her gaze remains over my shoulder rather than at me. “I’m actually going to meet up with someone. But, you guys have fun.” Her eyes finally meet mine. “I have my phone on if you need anything.” She shifts her gaze to Derek. “Make sure you aren’t the cause, otherwise your nickname will be much worse.”
Derek blows out a chuckle. “Understood.”
Poppy gives a single nod, then
lifts her chin and sets forth into the crowds, a piece of my attention going with her.
“How was work tonight?”
My heart does a somersault as my attention begins to reel back to the here and now and appreciate the hard angle of Derek’s jaw, his gentle brown eyes that softly pry at mine, and his short blond hair that smells clean and fresh. He remembered my schedule.
“It was good. Busy. But I was only a few minutes late to the game.”
He grants the same smile I’ve seen him flash a dozen times prior. It’s wide and bright—a crowd pleaser, of this I’m sure.
“I bet you second-guessed that decision since it was negative freezing tonight.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t that bad. Poppy bought all the hot junk food she could get her hands on to keep us warm.”
This time, his smile is followed by soft laughter that wanes as his attention lifts and he begins shaking his head. “Oh, shit.”
I turn to see what’s holding his attention and spot a couple of guys from the football team making their way toward us.
“Shots! Shots! Shots!” they chant.
His grip on my shoulder tightens, pulling me closer for a second before his touch falls. “I hate them for this. I really want to see you, but these assholes are relentless. Will you be around later?”
A guy I recognize only from the field reaches us first, energy radiating from him as his attention swings between Derek and me. “You joining us?” His attention stops on me.
Shots with the football team at a party I know my brother is at would be suicide for both of us.
“Wait. Aren’t you…?” A second teammate joins us. His name is Ian—a defensive linebacker from Mississippi who I’ve met at least a dozen times, and who still can’t remember me. Each time we meet, my ego falls several pegs.
“You guys have fun. I’m going to check on my friend.”
Derek watches me, reluctance clear in his gaze, and he wets his lips with his tongue. A grin tugs at my lips as I start to turn, my thoughts scattering like a wave as I hold on to that look and lose the worry of Ian finding me so forgettable.