15. Chapter Fifteen Poppy
Chapter Fifteen: Poppy
W hen I wake up, the first light of dawn is filtering through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. I sit up slowly, pulling the blanket around me, and realize Joe is gone. There’s a second blanket draped over my legs, though, as if he couldn’t stand to slip away without first making sure that I was comfortable.
I sit there for a moment, holding the blanket close, a feeling of bittersweet longing settling over me. I know I shouldn’t indulge it, but it’s as certain as the tides.
I’m falling for Joe.
I’m startled by the buzzing of my phone, the screen glowing with an incoming call from London. I squint, barely able to make out the caller ID in the early morning light.
It’s Amelia Keller, of all people. I haven’t seen her in ages. Technically, we grew up together. She’s only a couple years older than me, and her uncle was Schism’s drummer, so whenever Randall’s sister would bring Amelia to a show or event, we were thick as thieves.
We lost touch after the plane crash, but found our way back together when we happened to run into each other at a nightclub in downtown LA the night of my twenty-first birthday. She still lives in England full time, but we do our best to keep touch as often as possible. It’s easier said than done, not only because of the time difference, but also because Amelia has made quite a big name for herself as a designer in the fashion industry.
Even though I would consider Amelia one of my more genuine friends, the sight of her name makes my stomach twist. The fact that she’s calling me out of the blue, rather than just sending a text, can only mean one thing: drama.
“Amelia?” I mumble as I swipe to answer. “What’s going on?”
She doesn’t waste a second. “Poppy Minton, what on earth have you been up to?”
I pull the phone away from my face to stare at it, blinking away sleep even as I question whether I’m still dreaming. Her tone isn’t angry, exactly—more incredulous. As if the entire rest of the world, including her, is in on a secret that I haven’t yet been clued into.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, stifling a yawn. “I haven’t been up to anything at all, really.”
“Oh, haven’t you? Then maybe I should tell you about the photos of you currently circulating all over the internet.”
My heart sinks. I try to keep my voice steady, but the dread creeps in.
“Photos? What photos?”
“Well, let’s see,” she says with a loud sigh. “There’s one of you and Percy together in some quaint little town on Cape Cod, of all places. And then there’s another one of you cozying up with a completely different man at a gala—who looks absolutely scrumptious, by the way, but that’s beside the point. Twitter is on fire, Poppy, and everyone’s trying to figure out how someone with such a clean record could be involved in such a scandal.”
“Scandal?”
“Poppy, are you cheating on Percy?”
My heart lodges in my throat. I feel a rush of panic, my stomach twisting as Amelia’s words sink in. Photos. Percy. Joe. Scandal.
I never saw any photographers when we went to dinner with Percy. Mermaid Shores is supposed to be a safe haven from all of that stuff, too, so I don’t understand how anyone would’ve gotten a picture clear enough to sell to a media outlet. It’s not like I’ve been frolicking about with Percy. Really, I’ve been avoiding him whenever and however possible.
And, yes, there were photographers at the gala, but I deftly maneuvered Joe right past them. Or so I thought.
“Amelia, Percy and I aren’t together,” I reply. “We haven’t been together for ages. I thought you knew that.”
“Well, okay, Poppy, but then why are you hanging out with him? Please tell me there’s a good reason for all this, because people are saying some pretty insane things. You know how people love to fill in the blanks. And I figured since it’s midday here and still early in America, I might be one of the first people to warn you. It’s not good.”
I rub my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “Of course I’m not dating both of them. I’m not even dating either one of them! That dinner wasn’t—look, Amelia, this is all ridiculous. Why do people care so much?”
“Um. Because you’re Poppy Minton.”
I groan quietly. “What do I do?”
“Honey, people are calling you everything from a ‘selfish brat’ to a ‘polyamorous party girl.’ I mean, it’s absurd, but you know how tabloids are—they don’t care about the truth as long as they have a good story. You’ve clearly given them a good one.”
I close my eyes, praying for a heartbeat that I can just go back to sleep and then wake up from this nightmare.
“Right. Well… thanks for the warning, Amelia. I’ll deal with this. I just… I can’t believe someone would follow me to Mermaid Shores just to get a photo.”
“That’s the price of fame, love,” she says, a hint of sympathy in her voice. “But I think you and I both know that someone didn’t just happen to follow you.”
“What?”
“Someone called the paps, love. Isn’t it obvious? I mean, they learned pretty early on that you weren’t going to be one of those trashy, scandalous girls who gives them plenty of material to publish on a weekly basis, so they decided to keep their distance. But now that someone else has clued them into the fact that you might finally be getting your hands dirty…”
“But who would do that to me?”
“Beats me, babe. If you find out, let me know. I’ll take care of them myself.”
I huff out a laugh. “Right. Thanks, Amelia.”
“Take care of yourself, Poppy. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Likewise.”
I hang up, my mind racing with everything Amelia just unloaded onto me.
Squinting through the sunlight, I check the time. It’s barely seven thirty in the morning.
Deep down, I know that I have to post something online to clear things up. Hearing the truth directly from my official account will quiet most of the rumors, especially when people find out how boring the truth is. Yet, the thought of doing anything on such a large public platform feels exhausting, like throwing water on a fire that’s already out of control. I’ve already gotten so used to my quiet little life.
I scroll through Instagram. My feed is littered with the faces of people I don’t even recognize, and influencers I barely remember following. But a quick search for my own name pulls up exactly what I feared: various screenshots of articles, fan accounts speculating wildly, and photos of me with Percy and Joe plastered side by side, each with their own theories about my apparent love triangle .
My heart pounds as I go to my profile and start drafting a statement to post on my Story. The words come slowly, each sentence a careful attempt to convey the truth without making things worse:
Hi, everyone! It seems like there is speculation going around about me, and I wanted to set the record straight. First of all, I am single and not currently dating anyone, including the two men seen in the recent photographs. I hope everyone can please respect my privacy, as well as the privacy of the other parties involved. Thank you for understanding. Love, P.
I read it over about a dozen times, debating every single word. I’ve been careful to avoid mentioning Percy or Joe directly. I refuse to mention Percy because I know it will stoke his ego no matter what, and I even more adamantly refuse to mention Joe because there’s no other way to protect him but to ensure that there are as few details as possible to discover about him.
Still, it feels frustratingly vague, like I’m barely scratching the surface of what I really want to say. But I can’t be more specific without dragging them both into this mess even more. I’d happily take myself down if it meant bringing Percy with me, but with Joe involved…
Taking a deep breath, I hit publish and hope that somehow this will be enough to calm the storm.
Within minutes, the notifications start rolling in.
Comments, likes, and of course, many opinions.
Some people are supportive, saying things like Hang in there, Poppy! and You don’t owe anyone an explanation!
But others are less kind, throwing words like spoiled and attention-seeker into the mix. Backlash is expected, since most people will believe whatever they want regardless of how much it makes sense, but seeing it all on my screen feels like a punch to the gut. No matter how much I try to explain, people are going to make their own personal judgments.
I’m used to this, though. Or rather, I should be used to this. I’m not a stranger to the spotlight. I never have been. People have been observing me and judging me for my entire life, good or bad.
And, really, I could probably handle this easily enough. What’s really bothering me is the fact that I’ve accidentally dragged Joe into this mess. He’s not used to this. He’s a normal guy with a normal life. Not to mention the fact that he has children.
If some creep manages to discover who he is and starts airing out his dirty laundry to the entire world, I’ll never forgive myself.
Just as I’m about to put my phone down and try to breathe through the anxiety, I hear a loud bang from the front door. I freeze, heart pounding. There’s a weird scraping sound, and I hear the door swing open, slamming against the wall.
I have just enough time to scramble to my feet and leap over a pile of lumber toward the foyer before the intruder comes into view.
Percy.
He strides inside, his face a mask of glowering annoyance.
I stop short. I’ve seen Percy upset before, but this is different. This is more like a raw, unfiltered fury that almost scares me a little bit.
“What the hell was that post, Poppy?” he demands, his voice low but seething. “You think you can just throw me under the bus like that?”
Hell, he’s so obsessed with himself. Of course it only took him twenty minutes to see my post and rush over here to confront me. For all I know, he’s been staking out the place all night.
Because now, Amelia’s words are coming back to me.
“But now that someone else has clued them into the fact that you might finally be getting your hands dirty…”
Of course. I should have seen this tactic coming. Hadn’t I been worried all along that Percy might lash out by making me look like the bad guy?
I step back, trying to keep my voice steady. “Percy, you need to leave. You can’t just barge in here.”
“Like hell I can’t,” he snaps, his eyes flashing. “You publicly humiliate me by making me look like some desperate ex-boyfriend, and you expect me to just sit back and take it?”
“Humiliate you?” I can’t help but laugh, though it’s shaky. “You’re the one who keeps showing up, Percy. You are a desperate ex-boyfriend! I didn’t ask for any of this.”
His mouth twists into a bitter smile. “Oh, right. You’re the victim here, aren’t you? Poor Poppy, being pursued by someone who actually cares about her.”
I cross my arms, trying to stand my ground. “This isn’t about caring, Percy. You don’t care about me at all, actually. This is about control . You’ve been stalking me, lurking around town like some creep, and I’m done with it.”
He steps closer, and I swear I can feel the anger radiating off him.
“You know what, Poppy? You’re not as innocent as you like to pretend. You lead people on, and when they don’t play by your rules, you cast them aside.”
I stare at him for a long moment. “I lead people on? Who ? You?”
Percy snorts humorlessly. “Not me. That sad sack of working-class bones you’re parading around as some kind of pet project. Oh, I bet he’s going to be thrilled to learn what it means to be romantically involved with Poppy Minton. Especially when he sees you’re too ashamed of him to admit it to your followers.”
I swallow hard. “I’m right, then. You did this. This was your plan, huh? Try to scare Joe away? There’s never such a thing as boundaries with you, is there?”
“Boundaries? You want to talk about boundaries? You broke my boundaries when you refused to give me a second chance—”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” I shout.
I know we’re being loud. I know the neighbors might be able to hear us right now.
I also don’t think I care.
“Forming healthy boundaries doesn’t mean that you get to decide how other people react to your insanity, Percy,” I snap.
He takes another step toward me. I take a step back. My bare foot touches raw plywood and I flinch at the prospect of getting a splinter, but I’ll take a dozen splinters right now if it means I can keep some distance between us. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me—like I’m a broken toy that he wants to throw away into the garbage once and for all.
He’s finally realized he can’t have me, after all. His stunt didn’t work.
“I’m not insane,” he growls. “You’re the insane one. You’re so insane that you refuse to acknowledge how great we would've been together, Poppy. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for not wanting to be with me. You’ve got to be crazy, right?”
I gape at him. There’s still a thin fog of sleep clouding my mind, and I’m not totally sure I’m hearing him properly.
Either that, or he really is talking utter nonsense.
“No, Percy,” I say, taking another tentative step backwards. “I’m not crazy. You’re crazy. And you really need to leave my property. Right now.”
A nasty smirk forms on his lips. “Or what, Poppy? What are you going to do?”
Without warning, he lunges toward me.