“Fine. Fine, Midnight. Will you just put your arms around me, then? Can I get that much, at least?”
I did. I tucked her head under my chin and laid my hand flat across her lower belly, spreading out my fingers until they touched her hip.
She never let me hold her.
She was that worried about me and Wink, I guess.
She was right to be worried.
Just as I was falling back to sleep, eyelids closing, Poppy wriggled out of my arms and woke me up again. She went over to the window and looked out, over at the Bell farm, the moonlight settling around her. A breeze came in and moved the hair across the curve of her shoulder blades, back and forth, just an inch or two.
“You know, Leaf told me something about his crazy sister once.” Poppy turned and grinned at me over her shoulder, the old foxy Poppy grin, the one from her gangly, knee-scraped days. “He said the Roman Luck house scared Wink out of her weird, addled little mind. He said it gave her nightmares as a kid, nightmares so bad she used to wet the bed.”
Poppy laughed, quiet and hard and mean. “Maybe we should start calling her Tinkle. Tinkle Bell.”
“Good one.” I said it lazy and cool, like my brother, so she knew I didn’t mean it.
“I think we should make Wink face her fear. What do you think, Midnight?”
Where was Poppy going with this? Wink hadn’t seemed scared of the Roman Luck house when we were at the party. I’d have known, if she were scared. Wouldn’t I?
Poppy snapped her fingers, one, two, three, and then glided back to the bed. She sat at the foot and crossed her naked legs, and looked so beautiful I wanted to throw myself out the window.
“I’ve got an idea, Midnight. A brilliant idea. Do you want to hear it?”
“No.”
She just laughed. “I’m going to tell Wink you want to meet her tomorrow at midnight in the Roman Luck house. I’m going to tell her that you want to be alone with her, really alone, no Bell brats, no hayloft. I’m going to tell her you’re too shy to ask her yourself.”
“She won’t believe you, Poppy.”
“Yes she will. I’m a fantastic actress. I’ll make her.” Poppy laughed again, quiet, so my dad wouldn’t hear. He was still awake, his footsteps making my ceiling creak. “It’s going to be so beautiful. So wicked.”
“No, it won’t. It really won’t.”
“Yes, it will. When she gets there, I’m going to tie her to the grand piano and then leave her there. Alone. She’ll have to spend the whole night sitting in the music room of the haunted Roman Luck house, with its ghosts. It’s going to be amazing.”
“Don’t, Poppy. Please.” I stopped trying to sound like Alabama. I just sounded like me again.
Poppy leaned forward and kissed the hollow of my throat. Slowly. “Will you help me do this? Will you go along with it?”
“No.”
“Do it, Midnight. Help me.”
“No. Never.”
Her kisses were languid. Soft. Perfect.
“If you don’t help me, Midnight, I’ll do something worse.”
Her lips, my skin . . .
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
“If you don’t help me I’ll set the hayloft on fire and burn the barn to the ground and say Wink did it. I’ll say she’s insane. I’ll say she’s dangerous. I’ll say she’s a liar. I’ll say she lured me into the woods and tried to kill me. I’ll say she pushed me in the river and tried to drown me. I’ll say she—”
“All right, all right.” I put my hand over her lips to stop her from kissing me again. “All right. I’ll do it.”
She raised her arms in the air and squealed. It was whispery and quiet, but still a squeal.
Even Poppy’s squeals were sexy.
“But Poppy, you have to promise that after this you’ll leave her alone. This is the last prank. The last one. Okay?”
Poppy crossed her arms over her bare chest, tossed her hair, and smiled. “I knew you’d come around.”
“Promise me it will stop, Poppy.”
Silence.
“Promise.”
“It will stop. After this one last prank.”
“And I don’t want any Yellows there either. They’ll make too much noise and she’ll suspect something.” I narrowed my eyes, back to imitating Alabama again. “Wink is smart. Smarter than you think. Just me and you on this, all right?”
“Wow. You’re being so alpha and demanding tonight. I’m impressed. And I’m never impressed, especially by you.”
She leaned in . . .
I put my hands on her shoulders and pushed her back.
She let out a cute, childish groan. “Okay. No Yellows and no more pranks.”
She smiled again.
And then she slipped her left leg over me and sat her hips down on mine. “I wouldn’t miss doing this with you for the world. Not for the world. Wink, Roman Luck, you and me, it’s going to be so much fun, so much fun.”
She bent forward until we were touching, chest to chest, skin to skin.
Lips. Down, down, down.
And I wanted to hate it.
I wanted it to turn my stomach, make me sick, fill me with horror. But it didn’t.