Chapter 29 #2
Sensing my discomfort with it, she adds, “if you’re not into that, we can do a creepy classic like an Alfred Hitchcock or something.
But then, keeping in the old classics theme, we move onto something emotional, process our feelings.
The Notebook is always great for a cry. Everyone needs a good cry occasionally, especially when you’re feeling down.
We can lighten things up with a cheesy rom com after that.
And finally, because we’ve just put ourselves through hell and back, we need something goofy, end with a laugh.
I suggest something like Blades of Glory, but the choice is yours. ”
“You’ve thought this through,” I note.
“I’ve had a lot of time to refine my sick day routine.” Poppy pulls her blanket up around her neck, her knees tucked up underneath it.
Something tender tugs at my heart, thinking about how much Poppy has had to cope with, and how she’s always faced it alone.
As much as I try to push people away, the heavy comfort of Cordelia on my lap and Poppy next to me on the couch makes me grateful that they’re here.
That she pushed her way into my walled-up heart.
“Thanks for being here, Pops.” I say, and she gives me a smile of deep understanding.
We settle in, and get through the first couple movies, and as the day goes on, Poppy slowly makes her way under my blanket.
She’s still sitting on the opposite side of the couch to me, but our legs are intertwined, and I can tell she’s being mindful of my injured one.
Her touch makes me unable to focus on the plot of the movie, all my senses being pulled to focus on the spot where her leg is resting up against mine.
My phone vibrates under the blanket, drawing my attention away. When I find it in the couch cushions, Poppy is looking at me with an expression that tells me we both know who it’s going to be.
I read Dan’s message with bated breath, and I can tell Poppy is holding hers too without even looking at her.
“I made the cut,” I say, and Poppy releases her breath with a heavy sigh. She launches herself onto me, still being mindful of my leg, and wraps her arms around my neck. I breathe in the scent of her, the floral fragrance of her hair, the sweet smell of chocolate on her breath.
“Jett, I’m so happy for you!” She exclaims, snuggling into me and making herself comfortable in the crook of my arm. Poppy hugged me as an instinctual response, and although snuggling on the couch wasn’t part of our initial agreement, I don’t want to let her go.
She stays in the same spot while we decide what movie to watch next, and doesn’t move when it starts. My pick this time. A romantic comedy that got me through some rough days after my last knee surgery.
We watch it together in silence, my hand rising and falling with every one of her breaths as I rest it on her shoulder. I’m so fixated on how close Poppy is to me, every point of contact between our bodies.
Suddenly she squirms ever so slightly, and the air has shifted. I turn back to the TV, and remember the scene that’s playing. The main character is showing his friend how to masturbate, using the mouth of a water bottle as demonstration.
I glance down at Poppy, her eyes wide as she watches, cheeks red and hot. I swear I can feel her heart beating against me. Reaching for the remote, I pause the movie and shift so I’m sitting up a bit more.
“Why do you look like you’re living a nightmare of walking into class naked?” I ask, my mouth curling upward.
Poppy shakes her head and casts her eyes down at my chest. It doesn’t matter that she’s not meeting my gaze, wherever her eyes land feels like it’s being warmed by the sun.
“I don’t know, I just… do a lot of women do that? Touch themselves?” Now she looks up at me, but gestures towards the screen.
“Yes, Poppy,” I say. “It’s a very normal thing to do. Healthy, even. Don’t tell me…”
She shifts and leans on her elbow so she’s turned toward me. Our faces are so close that if I leaned down I could kiss her again, see what she tastes like after sipping sweet hot chocolate.
“What?” Her eyes go wide.
“You’ve never…”
She shakes her head, slapping a palm over her eyes.
“I knew you were inexperienced with other people but Pops… not even with yourself? You’ve never…”
Now, she sits up, and I wish I hadn’t said anything to make her pull away from me.
“Never,” she whispers, as if someone might overhear us talking about this even though we’re alone.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed of.” I reach for her hand so she doesn’t turn inward like she sometimes does. Like I sometimes do. “It makes me kind of… sad to think you’ve never done that before.”
She looks up at me, her large brown eyes curious.
“You spend so much of your life in pain, your body aching all the time. I wish you knew what it meant to experience pleasure.”
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” Poppy’s eyes dart off to the side, contemplating my point. Her cheeks are still that pretty shade of pink, though now there’s a sparkle in her eye that looks like she’s had an idea, like she’s intrigued at the idea of making her body feel good.
“All I’m saying is you should try it sometime.” I shrug, trying to keep my body language and my expression neutral, indifferent, though the images flashing through my mind are making it difficult.
Poppy stands from the couch now and lets out an exaggerated yawn.
“I’m tired, I should be getting off to bed,” she says, starting toward her suite.
But before she disappears down the hall, she turns back towards me with a shy smile on her lips.
“Thanks for the tip.”
I stay up for a while longer watching the end of the movie, and when I finally click the TV off, the house is so quiet I could hear a pin drop. I get up off the couch, pick up the crutches, and limp on them down the hall towards my room.
The conversation I had with Poppy is still replaying in my mind as I reach her door.
I pause next to it for a moment, every fibre of my being wants to raise my hand and knock.
To go in her room and continue our kiss from the other night.
Show her what she’s been missing all these years.
Make her forget all the years of pain she’s endured, erase it all with one night of pure pleasure.
In the silence, there’s a soft, muffled whimper coming from the other side of the door. I wonder if it’s a bad dream, or if Poppy took my advice.
My pants tighten around my waist as mental images of her splayed out on the bed, her hand between her thighs, mouth open as she kneads herself, flash through my mind.
Poppy and I have only just crossed the line of kissing, and who’s to say she’d want a physical relationship outside of our arrangement anyhow. We never talked about doing anything more.
Besides, I like that Poppy can have this moment for herself, a chance to connect to her body in a different way. Such an intimate and personal thing shouldn’t be interrupted.
I inhale a sharp breath through my nose, collecting myself, and keep walking until I reach my room.