“When can I see you again?” She’s direct, but not in a pushy way. I think for a moment. The public forum is at the end of the week, which means I’ll be busy finalizing my design for the arts centre. Tuesday night is fire drill. Monday, I have a busy day on a job site …
“Tomorrow?” I say, trying not to sound too eager. But Emma is sweet, and I had a good time today. I do want to spend more time with her, but my schedule is tight.
“Tomorrow sounds great. I’ll text you later to make a plan.” Emma gives me another hug before she gets into her car parked right in front of the café and pulls away from the curb. I walk in the opposite direction, back towards my apartment.
I only get about fifty paces away when I hear my name being shouted from behind me. I whirl around, and I’m surprised to see Poppy gunning for me like a fucking bull. She practically has steam coming out of her nose. The gold hoop in the centre of it only makes the image more accurate.
“What are you thinking, Landry,” she barks out as she gets close and extends a small hand to shove my shoulder. I’m not used to seeing Poppy like this. She’s usually more soft-spoken, more reserved.
“Slow down, Ferdinand,” I joke, but her nostrils flare at the reference.
“I can’t believe you. That was a really shitty thing to do.” The comment stings. I actively try to avoid doing shitty things. Unlike my brother, Mason, who needed Ally to break through his gruff exterior, I at least make a solid effort to be likeable.
“You’re gonna have to back up and explain, becauseas far as I’m aware, I did nothing to make you so angry at me, Pops. You’ve been shooting daggers at me with your eyes all morning.”
“Emma?” Her chocolate brown eyes widen as she waves her hands, as if it should be obvious what she’s talking about. I glance over Poppy’s shoulder to make sure Emma isn’t somehow still within earshot.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snap, growing more and more defensive by the second.
“You think, as Wren’s best friend, I’m not going to say anything while you, Hudson Landry, who has been infamously and perpetually single since she left, date someone the one summer she comes back?” I reel for a moment at what Poppy has said, and that she managed to spew it all out at me in one, vengeful breath.
When I don’t say anything, too stunned for words, Poppy drives the knife in a little deeper. “It’s not enough for you to destroy her, break her heart, you have the audacity to date someone else right in front of her face?”
I scoff. As if Wren is jealous of anyone I date, as if she’d be hurt from me moving on ten years later.
“She hatesme, Poppy. I don’t think she would be upset if I died a slow and painful death at this point. I’m not doing anything wrong by going out with Emma.”
“You need to get your head on straight.” Poppy shakes her head, throwing her hands up in defeat and starts to back away. “If you think Wren hating you means she’s over you, then there is no hope for you at all.”
Poppy pivots on her heel and strides back to the café,leaving me standing on the sidewalk of Main Street, dumbfounded.
Her words echo in my head the whole walk home, and by the time I reach my apartment, I’m no closer to figuring out what they mean. Even if I did, what am I supposed to do with the information?
Wren has put up so many walls at this point, closed herself off from even spending time with me. Even if Poppy was right, and there was still a part of her that cared for me, I doubt I could even reach it.
CHAPTER 10
WREN
“Oh my God,you will never guess what happened yesterday,” Poppy calls as she lets herself in the front door. She comes through to the kitchen where I am trying, and failing, to recreate the pizza Hudson made for me the other night.
It was delicious, and I want to know how he did it. He took my favourite food from my teenage years and elevated it to an adult version that wasn’t $5.99 and from a box. I thought if I could recreate it, it would be perfect for having Poppy over for our much-needed girls’ night.
We haven’t been able to catch up properly since I’ve been back. I was so rushed to get to my meeting the other day, and with my sister in town, my parents wanting to spend time together as a family before they left, and not to mention the work I’ve been doing on the arts centre, I’ve been dying to see my best friend again.
“Tell me after I get these pizzas in the oven. You can put your stuff in my room if you want.” She retreatsupstairs with her overnight bag, where I’ve got an air mattress set up for her next to my bed like we did when we were teens.
We’re having a true, old-fashioned slumber party tonight, and I couldn’t be more excited. Those were some of my best memories growing up—giggling and squealing until all hours of the night. Until my mom would inevitably come to yell at us to go to sleep and we’d hide under the covers, pretending we already were.
I slide the pizzas off the cutting board and onto the rack, admiring them for a second before shutting the door. Good enough, I guess. The dough was a little lumpier than it should be, and didn’t stretch like I wanted, but they look close enough to pizzas for my liking. I’ll work on them, and perfect them, until mine are even better than the ones Hudson made.
Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I pour Poppy and I both a glass of wine.
“Okay, tell me what happened,” I say. She takes a long pull of her wine and gulps it down.
“Hudson was in the café.” Poppy’s face twists into a grimace, like she tasted something gross.
“Is that it?” I swirl the wine around, watching the way the liquid creates waves up the sides of the glass. “He probably comes into the café every day. He does live here.”
