I shook my head. I didn’t even like Avery, but because she was in our group of friends, she was always around. All my friends liked her; they all thought she was the prettiest thing around. But I never saw it, and I hated how she was toward me. Hated how she made Poppy feel.
“She’s nothing, Poppymin,” I reassured her. “Nothing.”
Poppy curled into my chest and we turned right, toward our friends. I held Poppy tighter the closer we got. Avery sat up as we approached.
Turning my head toward Poppy, I repeated, “Nothing.”
Poppy’s hand gripped my shirt, telling me she’d heard. Her best friend Jorie jumped to her feet.
“Poppy!” Jorie called excitedly, coming over to pull Poppy into her arms. I liked Jorie. She was ditzy, rarely thought before she spoke, but she loved Poppy and Poppy loved her. She was one of the only people in this small town who found Poppy’s quirkiness endearing and not just weird.
“How are you, sweets?” Jorie asked and stepped back. She looked at Poppy’s black performance dress. “You look beautiful! So damn cute!”
Poppy bowed her head in thanks. I took hold of her hand again. I guided us around the small fire that they’d lit in the fire pit and sat down. I leaned back against a log bench, pulling Poppy down to sit between my legs. She flashed me smile as she sat down with me, pressing her back against my chest and tucking her head against my neck.
“So, Pops, how’d it go?” Judson, my best friend, asked from across the fire. My other close friend, Deacon, was sitting beside him. He tipped his chin in greeting, his girlfriend, Ruby, throwing us a small wave too.
Poppy shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”
As I wrapped my arm across her chest, holding her tight, I looked at my dark-haired friend and added, “The star of the show. As always.”
“It’s only the cello, Rune. Nothing too special,” Poppy argued softly.
I shook my head in protest. “She brought the place down.”
I caught Jorie smiling at me. I also caught Avery rolling her eyes dismissively. Poppy ignored Avery and began talking to Jorie about class.
“Come on, Pops. I swear Mr. Millen is a damn evil alien. Or a demon. Hell, he’s from somewhere outside of what we know. Brought by the principal to torture us weak young Earthlings with too-hard algebra. It’s how he gets his life-force; I’m convinced of it. And I think he’s onto me too. You know, the fact I know he’s an extra-terrestrial, because, Lord! That man keeps failing my ass and giving me the stink-eye!”
“Jorie!” Poppy laughed, laughed so hard that her whole body shook. I smiled at her happiness, then I zoned out. I leaned further back against the log as our friends talked. I lazily traced patterns on Poppy’s arm, wanting nothing more than to leave. I didn’t mind sitting with our friends, but I preferred to be alone with her. It was her company I craved; the only place I ever wanted to be was with her.
Poppy giggled at something else Jorie said. Her laugh was so hard she knocked the camera hanging around my neck to the side. Poppy flashed me an apologetic smile. I leaned down, tilted her chin toward me with my finger and kissed her on the lips. I only meant for it to be swift and soft, but when Poppy’s hand threaded into my hair, pulling me closer, it became more. As Poppy opened her lips, I pushed my tongue to meet hers, losing my breath as I did.
Poppy’s fingers tightened in my hair. I cupped her cheek to keep her in this kiss as long as possible. If I didn’t have to breathe, I imagine I would never have stopped kissing her.
Too lost in the kiss, we only broke apart when someone cleared their throat from across the fire. I lifted my head to find Judson smirking. When I glanced down at Poppy, her cheeks were blazing. Our friends hid their laughter, and I squeezed Poppy tighter. I wouldn’t be embarrassed for kissing my girl.
Conversation picked back up again, and I lifted my camera to check it was okay. My mamma and pappa bought it for me for my thirteenth birthday, when they could see that photography was becoming my passion. It was a 1960s vintage Canon. I took it with me everywhere, snapping thousands of pictures. I didn’t know why, but capturing moments fascinated me. Maybe it was because sometimes all we get are moments. There are no do-overs; whatever happens in a moment defines life—perhaps it is life. But capturing a moment on film keeps that moment alive, forever. To me, photography was magic.
I mentally scrolled through the camera roll. Pictures of wildlife and close-ups of cherry blossoms from the grove would occupy most of the film. Then there’d be photos of Poppy tonight. Her pretty face as the music took its hold. I’d only ever seen that look on her face one other time—when she looked at me. To Poppy, I was as special to her as her music was.