Looking up, she said, “Then, yes, I’m ready.”
I let myself hold Poppy’s gaze for a few seconds longer than normal. Our kiss may have been a middle finger to anyone who didn’t want us together, but her smile was a middle finger to the darkness in my soul.
Poppy’s sisters ran to our side and joined us as we started walking toward our schools. Just before we turned toward the blossom grove, I glanced back over my shoulder. Mr. Litchfield was watching us go. I stiffened when I saw the stormy look on his face. But I gritted my teeth. This was one fight he was definitely going to lose.
Ida chatted the entire way to her school, Poppy laughing fondly at her youngest sister. I understood why. Ida was a miniature Poppy. Even down to the dimples on her cheeks.
Savannah was a different personality altogether. She was more introverted, a deep thinker. And clearly protective of Poppy’s happiness.
With a quick wave goodbye, Savannah left us to go into the junior high school. As she walked away, Poppy said, “She was real quiet.”
“It’s me,” I replied. Poppy looked at me, shocked.
“No,” she argued. “She loves you.”
My jaw tensed. “She loves who I used to be.” I shrugged. “I get it. She’s worried I’ll break your heart.”
Poppy pulled me to stop beside a tree near the entrance of our school. I glanced away. “What’s happened?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I replied.
She stepped into the path of my stare. “You won’t break my heart,” she stated with one hundred percent conviction. “The boy who took me to the creek, and then to listen to an orchestra, could never break my heart.”
I remained silent.
“Plus, if my heart breaks, so does yours, remember?”
I huffed at that reminder. Poppy pushed me until my back was against the tree. I saw students beginning to enter the school, most of them looking at us. The whispers were already beginning.
“Would you hurt me, Rune?” Poppy demanded.
Defeated by her tenacity, I placed a hand on the nape of her neck, and assured her, “Never.”
“Then to hell with what anyone else thinks.”
I laughed at her fire. She smiled and put her hand on her hip. “How was that for attitude? Bad-girl enough?”
Taking her by surprise, I spun her until her back was against the tree. Before she had a chance to argue, I closed in and kissed her. Our lips were slow-moving, the kiss was deep, Poppy’s lips parting to let in my tongue. I tasted the sweetness in her mouth, before pulling away.
Poppy was breathless. Combing through my damp hair with her fingers, she said, “I know you, Rune. You wouldn’t hurt me.” She scrunched her nose and joked, “I’d bet my life on it.”
An ache tried to form in my chest. “That wasn’t funny.”
She held her finger and thumb about an inch apart. “It was. A little bit.”
I shook my head. “You do know me, Poppymin. Only you. For you. For you only.”
Poppy studied me. “And maybe that’s the problem,” she concluded. “Maybe if you let other people in. Maybe if you showed those you love that you’re still you underneath all the dark clothes and broodiness, they wouldn’t judge you so harshly. They’d love you for whoever you chose to be, because they’d see your true soul.”
I stayed silent, then she said, “Like Alton. How’s your relationship with Alton?”
“He’s a kid,” I replied, not understanding what she meant.
“He’s a little boy who worships you. A little boy who’s upset you don’t speak to him, or do anything with him.”
I felt those words tunnel a pit into my stomach. “How do you know?”
“Because he told me,” she said. “He got upset.”
I pictured Alton crying, but I quickly chased it away. I didn’t want to think of it. I may not have much to do with him, but I didn’t want to see him cry.
“There’s a reason he has long hair, you know? There’s a reason he pushes it from his face like you do. It’s real cute.”
“He has long hair because he’s Norwegian.”
Poppy rolled her eyes. “Not every Norwegian boy has long hair, Rune. Don’t be silly. He has long hair because he wants to be like you. He imitates your habits, your idiosyncrasies, because he wants to be like you. He wants you to notice him. He adores you.”
My head dropped to face the ground. Poppy guided it back with her hands. She searched my eyes. “And your pappa? Why don’t you—”
“Enough,” I spat out, harshly, refusing to talk about him. I would never forgive him for taking me away. This one topic was off-limits, even for Poppy. Poppy seemed neither hurt nor offended by my outburst. Instead, all I saw was sympathy in her face.
I couldn’t bear that either.
Taking her hand, and without another word, I pulled her toward the school. Poppy gripped my hand tightly when other students stopped looking and started staring. “Let them stare,” I said to Poppy as we entered the school gates.
“Okay,” she replied and edged closer to my side.