I was sad.
Now, I was feeling human again. A hot shower, a half-assed run, and a shift at work had pulled me out of the magic of my sister’s wedding and into my real life. Even if work had put me behind the bar because I had no business running food when I could barely walk, according to my manager.
I wasn’t going to argue with her. I liked serving drunk people drinks to get them even more drunk. If I could write a book, I’d have some real stories to tell.
Diary of a Cocktail Waitress. I’d nail it. With some elaboration, of course. I was no glamor puss serving cocktails in fancy restaurants, after all.
I closed the apartment door behind me and tossed my purse on the sofa. “Aves, I’m home!”
“Hey!” She poked her head out of her bedroom door. “How are you feeling today?”
“Human. I figured I’d get changed, order pizza, and paint.” I stood by my door. “Do you have work?”
Yawning, she covered her mouth and nodded. “’Til eleven. I’m so freakin’ tired.”
“You have time to eat before you go?”
She looked over her shoulder. “If you order pizza now, probably.”
“’Kay. I’ll do it on the app.” I ran back into the living room to get my phone, then went into my room to change. In seconds, I’d ordered the pizza and had tossed my phone onto the bed.
The knock at our door came when I was half naked with my head stuck in my closet.
“Want me to get that?” Avery yelled.
“Please! I’m half-naked!”
“Thanks for that!”
She was welcome.
I pulled out some yoga pants and a tank top emblazoned with, “I like to party, and by party, I mean read books.” The click of the front door came right as I pulled up my pants and grabbed my shirt.
“Pops? There’s something here for you.”
Frowning, I tugged the shirt down over my boobs and walked into the main room. On our small dining table that was currently covered in my paints, was a massive bouquet of poppies. The blood-red color was a bright pop in our kitchen, and I stopped dead as reality hit me.
Only one person I knew would have the balls to send me my namesake flowers.
Avery picked at the card. “He’s brave. The last boy who tried to give you a poppy got a punch in the nose.”
“I was eight, and he was a dick.” I took the card from her, fingering the edge of one of the petals. I didn’t think I wanted to read this, but I didn’t have a choice, so I opened the small card.
Thank you for reminding me how to have fun this weekend, Red.
Don’t kill me for this.
I smiled, closing the card. The flowers were even in a red vase that matched the poppies perfectly. I trailed my finger over one of the flowers and down the side of the shiny vase, my stomach flipping as I put the card down next to it.
Avery sighed and shook her head. “I don’t get you.”
“Don’t start, Aves.” I slid into my chair and pushed the tabletop easel to the side. “I don’t want to hear it, okay?”
She slammed her hands on the table. “You hate poppies.”
“I don’t hate poppies. I think they’re an easy cop-out and only an idiot would assume they’re my favorite flower just because of my name.”
With attitude, she motioned to the flowers.
“They’re not—” I stopped and sighed. “Red. His nickname for me. It started the morning after we, you know.”
“Fucked.”
“Slept together,” I said dryly. “I asked him why he called me red, and he said it was partly because of my hair, and partly because my name is Poppy, and poppies are red. I think this is him throwing back to that conversation.”
“That’s a ridiculous reason for a nickname.”
“I know. Why do you think he told me not to kill him?”
Avery pinched the bridge of her nose and laughed. “You two so obviously have feelings for each other.”
I held up my finger. “I told you not to start.”
“I’m doing this because I’m your best friend and I care about you. You’re so damn stubborn you can’t see that you’re hurting yourself because you’re too afraid of telling him how you feel.”
“No, Aves, you’re wrong. I know I’m hurting myself, but it’s not so simple. He’s not here most of the time. He travels for most of the season. He admitted that relationships are a struggle because of it. Would you rather I get over this little crush now, or try a relationship that I already know isn’t going to work just because we spent one weekend together?”
She went to say something, then stopped.
“If I spend more time with Adam, I can tell you right now, one hundred percent, I’m going to fall in love with him.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice.