She laughs. “Come on. It’s such a distinguished name. Had I known about it, I could have come up with a whole lot more nicknames.”
“No,” I say again.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Big it is.”
I give her a firm nod.
We lapse into silence. I’m trying to figure out how to address how much of their conversation I overheard, but Poppy beats me to it.
“Sorry I called yousurlyjust now.” She squishes up her nose in a way that’s both self-deprecating and apologetic.
“It’s fine. It’s true.” I dip my chin and clear my throat. “Your hips are fine.”
The second the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could swallow them back in. I needed to address my mom’s comments, but seriously…that’s what I came up with?
“Fine hips. I’ll add it to my resume.” Poppy’s eyes sparkle. “Big! You charmer, you.”
I run my hand along the back of my neck. “I haven’t noticed your hips. I haven’t looked.”
Poppy’s eyebrows keep raising a half inch at a time.
“I’m sure they’re great hips.”What is wrong with me right now?I cough. “I mean, I’m sorry my mom sized up your potential to adequately give her grandchildren on your first meeting. Totally inappropriate.”
Poppy and Rose exchange a look and then burst into giggles. Poppy waves me off. “No need to apologize. I’m mostly glad to have her stamp of approval.”
“And your momisright,” Rose chimes in. “Poppy’s hips don’t lie.”
Poppy shoves Rose's shoulder. Rose tips to the side and snickers. “What? You can do a killer Shakira impression. Mack, ask her to show you sometime. Then you can give your truthful opinion.”
Poppy’s eyes go wide. “Rosie!” She shakes her head before giving me another rueful look. “Anyway! It was a fun night. I like your friends and your parents. Thanks again for the lift.”
I nod. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Night, Big.” Poppy waves.
I stroll around to my side, and before the back door closes, I overhear Poppy say, “I take it back. I don’t think he’s so surly after all.”
Her assessment of me makes my stomach do a weird wiggle. Because here’s the thing. Contrary to the impression I give off, I’m not a grouch. I mean, I am. But it’s a role I’ve taken on over time and due to the experiences of my youth. It’s a coping mechanism, if you will. Keeping to myself, building up a hardened outer shell, stops me from getting hurt by all the subtle commentaries of the people in this town who are quick to judge me for my past misdeeds.
Some of that judgment is merited.
Some of it is most definitely not.
In any case, it’s easier this way. I function quite nicely all by myself, coming out of my shell for air often enough not to choke.
But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel things—or that I don’t care.
The fact that Poppy saw through my front when very few other people have makes me feel some kind of way.
I’m not going to unpack that right now, but suffice it to say, I like Poppy. And her sister seems pretty cool too. It almost makes me feel bad about the pranks we’ve planned for them.
Almost.
7
Exploding Toilets
Poppy
