Myeyeslockonhers, sweat cascading down my back.
“We’re almost there,” she says with a wolfish grin. “Don’t bail on me now.”
I’m too out of breath to respond with words. I force a wry grin in response. At least at this point, she’s breathing heavily too. I’m not the only one working hard.
I gasp as we make the final push. I try (and fail) to match her rhythm. She’s way out of my league. Different sport altogether, in fact.
“Come on,” she coaxes, the tone of her voice giving me no choice but to keep going.
I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting to hear her glorious countdown.
Instead, I hear arguing coming from my front porch.
I bite back a curse and scramble for the remote to click pause on my YouTube dance fitness instructor. She freezes on my screen.
I needed this workout. I sent my first email to Poppy on behalf of Holland, and the nervous energy I’m feeling is out of this world.
Because I didn’t know how tobe.I didn’t know what tone to use. I signed off withhugs,for crying out loud.Yuck. How lovey-dovey are they together? HOW SHOULD I KNOW?
The arguing is louder on my front porch.
“We are not going in there.” I recognize Poppy’s voice.
“Yes, we are!”
There’s Rose.
What in the world are they doing on my side of the duplex?
I stride over to the door and tug it open.
Poppy must’ve been leaning against it, because she tumbles backward, arms pin-wheeling. She falls straight into me, her entire body now suctioned to my sweaty chest.
I reach out my hands, and they instinctively go to her hips, which we all know have been the topic of far too many conversations at this point in our short history.
“Sorry!” Poppy regains her footing and scrambles forward. She stares at my bare chest for a beat before she glances up and meets my gaze. “Why are you all wet?”
“Sweat,” I say. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
Both Poppy’s and Rose’s eyes go comically wide.
“I told you we shouldn’t have interrupted him,” Poppy hisses in Rose’s direction. Her face is flaming red—like, Clifford-the-Big-Red-Dog red. “We…uh…we can come back. Rose thought…you know what? Never mind! Carry on! So sorry to interrupt. Enjoy yourself.”
What?
Oh.
Oh!
Poppy starts to shove Rose down the porch steps.
“No.” I raise my voice to catch her attention. “I’m not busy doingthat.”
“You’re…not?” Poppy turns. Her brow is knitted now. When she faces me fully, I can tell she’s trying to peek over my shoulder.
“You thought something spicy was going on over here?”
Poppy smacks her palm to her forehead, covering her eyes, like she can’t believe she’s gotten herself into this predicament. It’s sort of hilarious.