Claiming Her Innocence

by Vivian Wood

  “That’s good,” her mom said. She picked up a battered fork, from the same set Poppy recalled as a child.

  From the corner of her eye, Poppy saw that Ryan barely touched his food. She took a few bites, but tasted nothing. The red potatoes were flavorless. The catfish didn’t seem to have any seasoning. She pushed the food around her plate and made intricate designs.

  “The neighbors,” her mom said as she lifted a forkful of cornbread to her mouth, “they’re at it again. It’s the fourth weekend in a row they’ve had a ‘yard sale.’ I don’t know what they’re doing, probably buying junk from other sales and trying to make a profit.”

  “Hmm,” Poppy said, eyes glued to her plate.

  “And the Hubbards? Three doors down? They got some kind of beast dog that sounds like it’s absolutely dying all hours of the—”

  “You come to tell us you’re getting married?” It was the first thing her father had said to her, and his voice shot her back to being five years old. He might have looked different, but that voice was the same. Deep, dark and always dangerous.

  “What?” She was mortified. “I’m not… I’m not…”

  The words wouldn’t come out. “Dad, he’s—Ryan and I aren’t even dating…”

  “Well, thank God for that,” her dad said. He stood up and slapped his napkin down on the table. He loomed over her, and he was ten feet tall all over again.

  As her dad turned and left the room, she looked at Ryan. She could feel the blood boiling below the surface, and knew her face was bright red. However, Ryan just smiled at her in a funny way she’d never seen before and looked down.

  “Your father…” Her mother just shook her head. “You know how he can be. So tell me how work’s going.”

  “I, uh.” Poppy struggled to find words, and some sense of normalcy. “It’s okay, I guess.”

  “Working a lot of hours? Like on TV?” her mom asked. The closest thing her mom knew about what Poppy did was Grey’s Anatomy, and she was convinced Poppy’s life was just as dramatic and sex-filled as the characters.

  “Yeah, something like that,” Poppy said. “It’s not too bad, though.”

  “Well, that’s good,” her mom said. “I never understood that. Why the people who need the most rest, doctors and pilots, they’re the ones with the crazy work schedule. Sleep-deprived, drinking caffeine nonstop. It’s not good. You’d think doctors and pilots would be the people we’d all want to be well-rested!”

  “Yeah,” Poppy said.

  “Well. As long as you’re taking care of yourself,” her mom said.

  That’s a funny thought. Take care of myself? Like you were supposed to take care of me for all those years?

  She watched her mom finish the plate. She was frailer than the last time, though it wasn’t noticeable at first. Dressed in a button-up shirt and jeans, Poppy focused on her mother's hands. They looked like how she remembered her grandmother’s hands, with blue veins visible and small knots at the knuckles. They were old woman hands.

  Poppy looked down at her own hands and tried to see what they’d turn into, but there was nothing of her mom in her. Her own hands showcased a sloppy at-home manicure. At least she’d tried. One of the attending physicians had told her, told all the women, that manicures made the patients trust you more.

  Nobody wanted a doctor who looked like they worked at a mechanic shop on the side.

  “And that fluorescent light you must deal with all day—”

  Her mom started to pick up all their plates. She didn’t say a word about Ryan and Poppy not eating. “I’ll get that,” Poppy said, and grabbed the plates.

  “Oh! Well, thank you dear,” her mom said and sat back down.

  Poppy scraped the two full plates into the bin and rinsed the chipped plates in the sink. Her back was to her mom and Ryan at the table, and the room was silent save for the spray of water. “We should probably get going,” she said to the wall. She couldn’t bear to look her mom in the face.

  “So soon.” It wasn’t a question. Was that defeat she heard in her mom’s voice?

  “I have an early shift tomorrow,” she said. “And a bunch of stuff to do at home first.”

  “I just hope you’re not so busy that you don’t have time for yourself,” her mom said.

  Poppy didn’t reply. Time for myself? To do what? Get married?

  She dried her hands on the rough tea towel that featured chickens and other farm animals. Funny. “Sorry,” she whispered to the chickens, so quietly that nobody heard her.

  “Thank you for coming,” her mom said as she walked them to the door. It sounded so strange, so formal. Like she’d just made an obligatory social call to a long-lost relative.

  “It was good seeing you,” Poppy said. Her mom grabbed her and hugged her tight. She felt Ryan’s presence beside her. When she tried to let go, her mom held tighter for just a moment. Finally, Poppy relaxed a bit into her.

  “Thanks for bringing her,” her mom said to Ryan, though she barely looked at him.

  “Oh, I didn’t—I mean, thank you for lunch. It was great,” he said. Great? Since when do you not eat?

  “You have a safe drive back,” her mom told her. She reached up as if she was going to smooth Poppy’s hair, but stopped and pulled her hand back.

  “We will,” Poppy said.

  “You take care of my baby,” her mom said as she turned to Ryan. Poppy shifted from side to side. Her mom had never been so overtly protective before, and especially not like this. She had to admit, a part of her was comforted by it.

  “I will,” Ryan said without hesitation. Poppy looked at him curiously. You will?

  “Okay. Bye, you two,” her mom said, and closed the door behind them. The click of the lock bid them farewell.

  As Poppy descended the gray steps, Ryan took her elbow and guided her along the short gravel driveway. “You okay?” he asked.

  She could only nod, and kept her head turned away from him. He couldn’t see her like this. Although she willed the tears away, a single drop fell as she reached the car. Poppy let her hair fall over her face as Ryan walked to the passenger side.

  Why did her parents still have this much power over her? She never expected the visits to be easy, but when they were this hard that couldn’t be normal. Could it? Didn’t other people her age visit their parents, have a good time, and leave happy?

  As Poppy slid into the driver seat and turned the ignition, she took one final look at the falling-apart house her mother spent day after day in. What kind of life was that? The lawn was crying out for help, the weeds out of control, and blackberry bushes crept across the property lines.

  Soon, the entire place would be overtaken. Given back to the wild. Perhaps that’s just how it was supposed to be.

  14

  Ryan

  He’d watched her hold it together for the past few hours. The tension in the car had been bottled up so tight by the time they’d arrived at her parents’ house it was palpable. He’d thought the lunch would be awkward, and it certainly was. There was even a part of him that had felt tricked into going. But once he saw how bad it was, and how much Poppy needed someone, all his wariness had faded away.

  He wasn’t surprised at all when she pulled over a few blocks from the house and started bawling. In fact, he didn’t know how she’d managed to hold it together as long as she had.

  “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he said as he unbuckled both their seat belts and pulled her toward him. She was silent, but shook vigorously. He felt her warm tears as they spilled onto his neck.

  She was limp as a ragdoll, and he easily boosted her closer. Poppy was awkwardly half on his lap. He squeezed and released her shoulder, uncertain of what to say or do. He’d seen her family “situation” before firsthand of course, but that was different. Back then, he’d had adrenaline to tell him what to do. But now? It was just the two of them, and all he wanted was to take her pain away.

  As her tremors stilled, she lifted herself from his chest and w
iped the tears away. “Sorry,” she whispered. Their eyes met, and even through the glassy tearstained gaze, he saw that same look she’d had the other day by the pool. It was a considering look. And this time he couldn’t resist.

  It was like a stranger was directing him. He leaned forward and closed the distance between them. When his lips met hers, a jolt shot through him like he’d never felt before. She responded hungrily. As if she’d been starving so many years.

  She tasted unbelievably sweet, in a way he would never have imagined. Yet the saltiness of her tears also coated her lips and had snuck into her mouth. The taste, her taste, blended into an intricate medley that was addictive.

  Ryan flicked his tongue across her teeth, and she parted her lips wider, receptive. When their tongues met, he tasted another layer of her flavors and couldn’t get enough. She was the sweetest thing his lips, his tongue, had ever known.

  Poppy let out a gentle moan, her chest pushed firmly against his, and he was instantly hard. It felt good, way too right. Fuck.

  Suddenly, Poppy pulled away. Embarrassed, she backed away to the driver side. “Ow,” she said as the stick shift dug into her thigh.

  Ryan opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t sure what. But Poppy beat him to it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was… that wasn’t right.”

  Sorry? Wasn’t right? Didn’t she feel the same thing he did?

  “Poppy, I—”

  “No,” she said as she held up a hand. “That was… wow. Okay. A moment of weakness? I guess? That sounds really lame, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “You think I took advantage of you?” he asked. Maybe he had. Maybe he’d misread the whole thing. The last few days, the pool, everything.

  “No, I don’t mean that,” she said. Her face softened with the slightest of smiles. “I mean, it was both of us. We both… what about Will?”

  “Will?” Hell, he’d forgotten all about him.

  “Yeah, my boyfriend?” The defensiveness crept steadily into her voice.

  “What about him?” He could never resist a challenge.

  “Ryan! I’m not the… I can’t… you know.”

  “Do you know?” he asked.

  She was quiet and clutched the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were going white. “I don’t know what I don’t know,” she said finally.

  “Deep, Poppy.”

  It felt like she sat there, death grip on the steering wheel, for an hour—though it was probably just one minute, maximum. Finally, without a word, she turned on the ignition and drove onto the main road.

  Ryan couldn’t believe it. Poppy had pulled the silent treatment on him a few times before, but it was never like this. Usually it was over a stupid argument they both knew would blow over soon.

  This was different. He stole looks at her the entire drive back into the city, but it seemed like she never noticed.

  He couldn’t bring himself to speak first. You’re a fucking idiot, he told himself. But he didn’t regret it. The way she felt and tasted—she was like a drug.

  An hour in a car can feel like days with that kind of tension between two people. And the heat? The passion that tied them together? He wasn’t possibly imagining that, was he?

  Ryan came up with a thousand different things to say, but none of them made it out of his mouth. I’m sorry. Didn’t you think it felt right? Who gives a damn about Will? I love you.

  Of course he loved her, that wasn’t a secret. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever actually told her, but it was an unspoken truth between them. But he’d loved her like a friend all those years. Right? He couldn’t—he didn’t really love her like that, did he?

  This is too much. It was a kiss. One kiss! It’s shocking it hasn’t happened before. How are you this messed up over one kiss?

  Still, he couldn’t help it. In between thinking of words to break the dual silent treatment, he just kept replaying that kiss over and over in his head.

  The single glance he’d taken when his mouth was on hers, he’d seen how beautiful and vulnerable she’d been with her eyes closed millimeters from him. How she tipped her face up and they moved in perfect synchronization, as if this were a dance they’d done their whole lives.

  And their lips. How their lips fit together perfectly, the way her bottom lip naturally eased between his lips and his teeth. It was like her mouth had come home.

  He could still taste the sweet tea she’d sipped at that afternoon on the tip of her tongue. The heat of her mouth somehow bested his, and it was like sliding into a warm bed that felt just right.

  This is ridiculous. It’s Poppy!

  It had taken all his willpower to stop his hands from roaming. He’d already wrapped her up partially in his lap, but when their lips met he was hyperaware of her thigh draped across his. One hand on her back, the other around her shoulder—thank God he’d had enough self-control to not let his hands roam freely.

  He’d barely noticed the flippy little chiffon dress she’d been wearing on the drive to Maryland and during lunch, but in the car? When she was pressed up against him and it was hiked up with all that creamy skin showing? All it would have taken was the slightest of movements and he could have felt that smooth skin all the way up.

  It drove him crazy, all the way back to the city. Did I miss my chance? All he thought about was how the rest of her must feel. She couldn’t possibly be as good as she felt. Right?

  For the first time, he wondered what she had on underneath all those little dresses and skirts. Sure, she complained about the work clothes all the time, and the few times he’d seen her after a shift she was in jeans, but he knew the real Poppy.

  He knew the girl who complained about pants all throughout high school because they were too restricting. He knew the girl who loved spring break in college because she got to wear nothing but swimsuits and pastel sarongs. He knew the girl who went to even eight o’clock pre-med classes in college dressed in denim jackets and long, festival-ready skirts.

  How had he never noticed her like that before? And if Poppy tasted even a sliver as good as her lips did, if what she had on under those frilly dresses was even a touch as intriguing as those flirty little skirts… Ryan knew he was in trouble.

  The car came to an abrupt halt. He looked at her, but she kept her eyes directly ahead, her foot pressed on the brake. She wasn’t even going to put it in park or look at him. They were in front of his building, and this was his last chance. He looked at her, hard, but she wasn’t going to give in.

  Ryan sighed, turned around and grabbed his messenger bag from the back seat. He opened his mouth to say something to her, anything, but was at a loss.

  Just kiss her again. Right now. Take her upstairs and see if what you suspect is true.

  The shape of her lips in profile mesmerized him. He could tell her heart rate was up just by her quick rapid breaths. But this was one showdown she was hellbent on not losing.

  He wasn’t going to be the first to give in. Not now. He held his silence as he stepped out of the car, and barely shut the door before she sped away.

  Ryan watched the car retreat down the street. He felt himself grow hard again just thinking about her. Was this what he’d been waiting for? There was something about Poppy he felt like he’d just discovered. Now that he’d had one taste, he needed another. It was like his body demanded it.

  But they couldn't… could they?

  15

  Poppy

  The burrito tasted like rubber, but Poppy didn’t care. She chewed through the cafeteria lunch special mindlessly. It had been two days since that moment with Ryan, and she hadn’t stopped thinking about it. She'd tried, but she just couldn’t imagine it was anything less than what it was—sheer magic, heat and passion.

  She’d never felt anything like it. Not with Will, not with anybody. And the best part? She hadn’t seen it coming, and it had been pure fireworks.

  Poppy had replayed it a hundred times, and each time it still made her wet. She i
magined how it had felt being cradled on Ryan’s lap, the roughness of his jeans against her skin. The thong she wore under her dress covered almost nothing, and even as she’d been crying she was aware of the heat that radiated from him spreading across her thighs and ass.

  When he’d moved in and kissed her, it was like that was what she’d been waiting for her entire life. The slight roughness of his stubble brushed her chin and cheeks, and it was a shocking contrast to the suppleness of his lips. When he’d caught her lower lip between his teeth and nibbled slightly, she'd heard a longing moan. It had taken her a moment to realize it came from her. It was like Will didn’t even exist and Ryan was her whole world.

  His tongue tangled with hers was unlike anything she’d experienced. It felt right, natural, and she’d felt her nipples harden. She couldn’t help it. She pushed her breasts against his chest, and that alone had made her flood between her legs.

  When she pushed off him, she knew she’d cut the magic short. But she was embarrassed, too humiliated to look down and see if she’d left any of her wetness on his jeans. Instead, she’d acted like a child. Had refused to say a single word to him after her stammered excuses.

  She shook her head and let the burrito drop. You’re an idiot.

  She’d wanted to do more than kiss. A lot more. She’d been ready, right then, to give her virginity to Ryan. Actually, it felt like she had been earmarked for him forever.

  You stopped right in time, she told herself. Don’t be stupid. You stopped in time… just not early enough to prevent the kiss altogether.

  Well. There was no putting that screeching cat back into the bag now, was there? Poppy groaned and rested her head on her arms, folded across the cafeteria table. Was that just a one-time thing? Or…

  “What’s wrong with you?” Penny flopped down across from Poppy with her own tray of suspicious-looking “Mexican Monday” fare.

  “Nothing,” Poppy said as she lifted her head to fake normalcy. “Just tired.”