Page 87 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail
I clear my throat. Force down the annoyance still lingering after yesterday. I’m on edge, my hackles up, but I don’t need to take it out on Poppy.
Still, when I speak, there’s a faint hint of defiance to my voice. “I told them it was me.”
Poppy stares at me with a thoughtful expression. Her eyes narrow, her head tilts. I stare back at her, not blinking.
“And why did you do that?” she finally says.
“Because I wanted to.” I try to make myself relax, easing the tension out of my shoulders and letting myself slump back into the little couch in Poppy’s living room. There’s not much in here—a sofa, a coffee table, and a small TV—but it seems to suit her just fine.
Technically I’m supposed to be working right now. There’s a bit of leeway because I’ve been finishing up this article about the romantic places in Lucky, and that’s required a bit of driving around—redoing photos in better light, trying different angles, that sort of thing.
But I needed to talk to Poppy. So while I was out, I called her to see if she was home. Funnily enough, my first instinct was actually to call India—until I realized what I need to talk aboutisIndia. So I called Poppy instead.
I’m wondering if I should be regretting my decision, though. When she just watches me instead of responding, I go on.
“Because they were trying to drag India into this program we’re doing, and I didn’t want them to. She—they don’t—” I break off and sigh. “It’s not necessary. There’s no reason anyone needs to know that was her in that performance. So…I lied.”
She hums, looking more interested than ever. She leans forward where she’s seated on the floor, looking up at me. “That’s not like you, is it?”
No. It’s not. And yet…I don’t regret telling my coworkers it was me in that costume. If anything, I regret I didn’t think of the idea sooner.
I shrug, a jerk of my shoulders.
“Did they believe you?” she says, more curious than knowing or interested now.
“Not at first,” I admit. “And some of them might still be skeptical. But all we have to go on now is that footage, and while India is definitely shorter than me, it was a baggy costume. The mask covered her whole head. And when the back ripped…” I feel my cheeks burning, but I clear my throat and go on. “It was the back side of her that showed. There was nothing from the front. So…it could have technically been a guy under there.”
“But you were the one reporting on that event, weren’t you?” Poppy says, tilting her head.
“I did,” I say with a nod. “But I wasn’t the only one. I was just an intern then. So I told them I wasinthe Peter and the Wolf dance, and that I covered other parts. There are lots of holes,” I say. “If someone looked into it further, my story would fall apart. But as irritating as Veronda can be, she’s not malicious. I think she and Herb—my boss,” I clarify. “I think they’ll accept what I’ve said and move on. I told them I didn’t feel comfortable with the footage being used, and they didn’t seem thrilled, but they both agreed.”
Another hum from Poppy.
“Just say whatever you’re thinking,” I say, some of my irritability back. But really—I’m weirdly stressed, and I don’t know what to do about India, and everything in my life feels topsy-turvy right now. Which is ridiculous. The only part of my world that’s changed is her.
“You like India,” Poppy says. It’s not a question—not the look on her face or the tone of her voice.
I sigh. “Yeah. I think so.” But at the same time, I’m head-scratchingly confused. Because the way I like India is not the way I’ve liked people in the past, surface-level excitement that was fleeting and fun.
It’s exciting with India, and fun, but…it’s more, too. It’s sweet and precious and terrifyingly vulnerable.
I didn’t even know some of those words were in my vocabulary. And yet all I want to do is protect her and make her smile and tease her and—my mind pulls up the image of the two of us kissing—and yes, other things too. Things I was blindsided to want with my best friend’s little sister, the one I was sure wasn’t my type.
My heart sinks as a new thought occurs to me. All this time, has mytypereally just been women who were instantly interested in me? Is that what I’ve been chasing down all this time? Easy sparks? Lazy thrills?
Disappointment with myself churns deep in my gut, and I sigh again, like a tired old man. Ifeeltired. And somehow I feel old, too.
Poppy tucks a few strands of her dark, curly hair behind her ear. “So…what are you going to do?”
Great question. “I have no idea.”
“Mmm.”
She stares at me some more, and at this point I give up trying to figure out what she’s thinking. I don’t have the bandwidth for that. So I wait for her to speak again.
“You should come over to the girls’ house tonight,” she finally says.
I blink in surprise. “What? Why?”
