Poppy: I do NOT think you’re an idiot.
Turner: Maybe not—but I feel like one.
Poppy: I repeat: I DO NOT think you’re an idiot, Turner. If I’m being honest, I think you’re everything. Which is probably somehow worse.
Turner: Worse how?
Poppy: You make my stomach flip like I’m a seventeen-year-old teenager with a crush.
Turner: You have a crush on me? Awww, that’s adorable.
Poppy: I had a crush. Now it’s a full-blown emotional crisis.
Turner: That’s hot.
Poppy: Knock it off LOL
Turner: Emotional disasters are kind of my type. Especially ones with great boobs and that thing you do with your mouth…
Poppy: You would bring that up.
Turner: The sight of you in my kitchen that first morning damn near killed me, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.
Poppy: Can I make a confession?
Turner: Obviously
Poppy: I stole one of your T-shirts and have been sleeping in it. Is that weird?
Turner: Uh, no. But I’m going to need a photo. For spank bank purposes since you’re no longer speaking to me.
Poppy: Oh, it’s like that? We’re speaking to each other NOW.
Turner: It’s exactly like that.
Poppy: Are you… flirting with me???
Turner: Always.
Poppy: So NOW what?
Turner: I flirt harder, and you flirt back.
Poppy: You think I don’t know how to flirt back?
Turner: I know you do. Don’t make me carry the weight of this sexual tension all on my own….
Poppy: Poor thing. You must be exhausted
Poppy: Can I ask you something?
Turner: Yes
Poppy: You knew I wasn’t going to stay in that house very long, right?
Turner: Maybe. But I didn’t think you’d leave so soon.
Poppy: But you kind of understood why I left.
