Special Delivery

CHAPTER 34

The vibe on the bus was raucous and messy. Complete strangers were dancing with each other in the aisle, men were loosening their ties and women were shoving their heels in handbags and swapping to flats. One bloke was trying to crowd-surf.

Poppy’s brain was trying to block the memory of James’s hand sliding up her thigh. He was nowhere to be seen and yet he was all over her. The smell of his aftershave was on her neck. She could feel the lightning sizzle of his hands up her back. She was terrified Dani would ask a question and she’d blurt out something embarrassingly incomprehensible like James! Thrusting! Horses! Fortunately, Dani had hardly noticed Poppy was missing as it seemed the queue for the portaloos had wasted as much time as it took to get half-undressed in a stable. April, meanwhile, had been misplaced. She’d texted Poppy a burger emoji to confirm she was alive.

Poppy tried to focus her attention on hmm-ing in the right spots as Dani ranted about why Fashions on the Field was actually a joke (case in point: men in trilby hats always won but everyone knew guys who wore trilbies in real life were creeps and sociopaths). By the time the bus rolled into downtown Orange, Poppy felt only mildly less flustered. Dani, however, shrieked in alarm. ‘Pops!’ she cried, peering through the window of the Royal Hotel. ‘Where is the dancefloor?!’

Dani looked so bereft that Poppy laughed. ‘There, I think.’ She pointed to a wooden floor currently covered with aluminium tables and some sexagenarian diners who’d not bargained on a busload of boozed racegoers interrupting their Saturday schnitzel.

‘Oh man!’ groaned Dani. ‘My dancing feet are ready now!’

Poppy checked her watch. ‘Relax, my dear. They pack away the tables at seven. We’ve got thirty minutes. We could order a quick pizza while we wait?’

‘Yes!’ Dani cheered, consoled. ‘Hawaiian!’

The two women filed off the bus and snaked through the crowd to the bar, where they ordered a large Hawaiian pizza and two bottles of water. While they sat at one of the aluminium tables, a queue of racegoers began forming outside as the bouncers took a leisurely approach to ID-checking.

‘How come they didn’t check our IDs?’ fumed Dani, watching a group of women pull their licences out of their purses. ‘We don’t look older than them, do we?’

The women at the door wore puff-sleeved midi dresses and minis with thigh-high boots. From this distance, Poppy couldn’t tell if they too were scarred by motherhood’s death-defying weariness. She had to admit, the thought of going home to sit on the couch and drink tea was crystallising in her mind as a very appealing option. Maybe after the pizza. No wonder the bouncers hadn’t checked her ID; she probably gave off the aura of a seventy-year-old.

‘Ooh, man alert, man alert!’ announced Dani.

Poppy followed her gaze to see a head towering above the queue outside. ‘The king of the jungle returns to find his prey,’ she intoned in a David Attenborough voice. ‘He scans the horizon, hoping to find her lurking on the crowded savannah.’

‘I’m not his prey, Dan. I told you: we decided we’re friends.’ Technically true, if you discounted the events of the past hour.

‘Please,’ scoffed Dani. ‘He couldn’t take his eyes off you. And the way he kept finding ways to touch you, it was like he was marking his territory. I’m surprised he didn’t pee on your leg.’

‘Yuck, Dan.’ Poppy shoved a giant piece of pizza in her mouth. ‘How good is this Hawaiian?’

‘Don’t change the subject. I’m trying to do my best friend duty by reminding you to be careful—even if he does seem like your perfect man.’

Poppy spluttered on her pizza. ‘What do you mean my perfect man?!’

‘He has the looks of Patrick and the banter of Henry without the awkward history. I can see how it’s an appealing combo.’

Poppy’s windpipe suddenly felt airless and scratchy. ‘No, no, no, Dan. I mean, yes, he’s fun, and there’s definitely some level of animal attraction there that I can’t shake, but he is one hundred per cent not my perfect man. He legitimately drives me crazy sometimes. He brings out my inner velociraptor or something.’

Dani smiled. ‘Well, my dear, after nine years of watching you in submissive girlfriend mode, it’s refreshing to see this side of you.’

‘But it’s not real, Dan. The way I act around him, it’s not me.’

Dani bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘Maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t bring out your inner velociraptor, maybe it’s just—you. Maybe you spent so long in Patrick’s shadow, you’ve forgotten.’

Poppy stared at her friend wordlessly, the gears in her brain starting to turn. Was James really her perfect man? She’d been so blinded by lust she hadn’t considered whether this could be anything serious. She gulped down some water, relishing the coldness sliding down her throat. She shook her head. This was a stupid hypothetical. It couldn’t be anything serious, because she didn’t have the time or capacity or brain space.

‘I saw Henry before,’ said Dani.

Poppy seized on the change of subject. ‘Really?’ She gulped more brain-defogging water. ‘Henry didn’t mention he was coming.’

‘Yeah, saw him near the portaloos. He said his fiancée has been in Brisbane for a few months.’

Poppy frowned. ‘There’s something strange going on there. Henry has been acting a bit weird lately.’

Dani’s eyes lit up. ‘Ooh, I hope he turns up here. I’ll find out what’s going on.’

Poppy smiled wryly at her friend. ‘You do that.’ Poppy had no interest in the machinations of Henry-and-Willa. It had taken her and Henry so long to get back to a place of comfortable companionship, she didn’t want anything messing with the precarious balance they’d established, which was largely based on pretending Willa was some sort of asexual roommate.

‘Look who’s made it into the inner sanctum,’ said Dani in her David Attenborough voice again. ‘The male of the species, following a mere sixty minutes of separation, has renewed his focus on his target. He scans his surrounds for a female companion, ready to lure her in with his mating dance.’

At that moment, James spotted them and waved. He began making his way over.

‘Can we agree there’ll be no more chat about mating?’ Poppy pleaded. ‘At least, not in front of James?’

Dani sighed. ‘Okay. But I promise you, the sexual tension is on par with that silverback gorilla doco we watched the morning after my hens’ party. Remember those humping noises? I still hear them in my dreams. I mean, only my sexual dreams, obviously—’

‘Dani, stop!’

‘Stop what?’ asked James. His eyes were sparkling from the cold outside.

‘Nothing.’ Poppy glared at her friend.

A waiter in a black t-shirt arrived at their table. ‘Hi, guys, sorry to interrupt, but we need to move this table now. We’ve got to get the dancefloor ready.’

‘Finally!’ yelled Dani, punching the air. ‘This is what I’ve been waiting for. You guys coming?’ She was already adjusting her dress straps ready for the exercise. Dani prided herself on her energetic moves, which both dazzled onlookers and counted as an aerobic workout.

‘I’m not dance-ready yet,’ admitted James.

‘Fine, you two stay here. I’ll go find April.’ Dani strode off before Poppy could answer for herself.

‘She definitely hates me,’ muttered James.

‘She’s just protective and opinionated, and a dancefloor fiend. There was no way she was going to be impressed by you unless you challenged her to a dance-off to MC Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch This”.’

James smiled. ‘I’ll save that for later.’ He reached for Poppy’s hand and pulled her towards him. ‘Come on, McKellar, I’m buying you a drink.’

Poppy allowed herself to be led to the bar, enjoying the warmth of his hand on hers. Butterflies of … something pirouetted in her stomach.

Next to them, an older guy with a beard was yelling at the bartender while wobbling like an amateur rollerskater. James’s arm slid around Poppy’s waist and he steered her to the left, shielding her from the drunken man. Her skin crackled where he’d touched her and flashbacks from the stable suddenly flooded her. The pull of fabric, the tug of hair, the touch of his lips on her skin … Pull it together! she scolded herself.

Drinks in hand, they made their way back to the far corner of the room, where Poppy found a spare table and perched on a bar stool.

‘Why is Dani so protective?’ asked James as they sat down.

‘Oh, you know,’ replied Poppy vaguely.

‘Tell me.’

Poppy picked up a cardboard coaster from the centre of the table and traced the edge with her fingertip, trying to find the right words. ‘She’s my best friend. She’s been the one constant since we met in first-year uni. Other friends and boyfriends have come and gone, but she’s always been there for me. She’s my ride or die, and she doesn’t want me to get hurt.’

‘And she thinks you’re in danger of getting hurt by me?’

‘No—and yes,’ Poppy admitted. She forced herself to settle the coaster on the table and placed her drink on top. ‘She thinks I’m vulnerable right now, and she thinks you’re interested in being more than friends, and she thinks I …’ Poppy trailed off and tipped her head to look at the strip lighting on the ceiling. The way it blinded her felt kind of good.

‘What else does she think?’

Poppy was suddenly exhausted. Exhausted from life, and today, and these heels … and most of all, she was exhausted from not knowing what to do. ‘She thinks the friends-with-benefits thing is dangerous. She thinks I’ll end up wanting more and getting my heart broken.’

James’s charcoal eyes were still. The mischievous sparkle had gone and his knuckles tightened on his beer. ‘And what do you want?’ he asked quietly.

Poppy felt herself wilt under his gaze. He already knew what she wanted. Friendship. But that thing in the stables … she could see why he was confused. It didn’t help that his knee was resting against hers and she hadn’t pulled away.

‘What do you want?’ she asked. If she could just work out what was going on in his brain she could reverse-engineer her position.

‘I asked you first,’ he countered.

Poppy stirred the ice in her drink with her straw, her weariness surging like a king tide. If a troupe of shirtless men suddenly appeared with one of those portable Princess Jasmine–style beds, she would happily climb aboard for a nap. ‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘That’s the problem. The only thing I’m clear on at the moment is wanting to be a good mum. I mean, as a general concept, the idea of meeting a lovely guy who makes me laugh and drives me wild in the bedroom is amazing—but it’s not a priority, especially not now. And besides, does that guy even exist?’

Her subconscious piped up: Um, across the table? She ignored it. This wasn’t a conversation about James; it was bigger than that.

‘And if this guy does exist, do I want him to be around my daughter? Is that drive-me-wild guy also father material, and if he isn’t, is that okay? Does he have to be both? Do I have to decide for Maeve and me, or do I have to make the decision for myself and make Maeve go along with it? Or do I swear off all men to protect Maeve—or would that be worse, because then she has no chance of finding a father figure?’ Poppy laughed slightly hysterically. ‘Far out, I’m driving myself insane!’

James sipped his beer thoughtfully. ‘I think it’s only sensible that you have to think about Maeve. It would be weird if you didn’t.’ He set his beer down, studying her. ‘Although, are we still speaking in hypotheticals?’

‘We are,’ said Poppy firmly. She was definitely not imagining him in bed next to her, his arm draped over her like a security blanket, flicking on the bedside light to help her find her way to the cot. He was only interested in getting hot and heavy when small babies were conveniently absent. She was aware of that. She was in control.

James’s mouth curved into a smile. ‘So hypothetically speaking, what would a guy have to do to drive you wild in the bedroom?’

Poppy’s laugh was instant. ‘You’re not helping.’

‘Sorry.’ He laughed too and picked up his beer again. ‘I get that you don’t want any distractions to mess with your current set-up when it seems to be working so well.’

Poppy smiled at him gratefully. This was why he was so easy to talk to. He made her laugh and he listened.

James continued, ‘But I don’t think you should close yourself off from the world because of Maeve.’ His eyes held hers for an extended beat, then he shrugged matter-of-factly and took a sip of his beer.

Poppy stared at him. Was he talking about closing herself off from the world or … from him? Were they still talking in hypotheticals? His gaze returned to her, his expression all sincerity and warmth, and despite herself Poppy felt her heart skip a beat.

‘How are the uni applications going?’ she asked, desperate for something platonic to discuss.

James gave her a knowing smile. He knew exactly what she was doing.

‘What’s the plan?’ she pressed. Yes, she was changing the subject—but also, she was genuinely interested. She wanted to learn everything about him.

‘I had the entrance exams a couple of weeks ago,’ he said eventually. ‘Our preferences are supposed to be decided this weekend. Actually, I might even have an email by now.’ He picked up his phone and started scrolling. After a few seconds, he stopped. ‘No way,’ he breathed.

‘What?’ asked Poppy.

‘I got it!’

‘Got what?’

‘Melbourne.’

‘Melbourne, Victoria ?’ Poppy’s head spun off her shoulders and fell to the floor. At least that is what it felt like. ‘You’re moving to Melbourne?!’

‘Wow!’ James grinned. ‘I guess I am. I’ll start next year. I’ll have to find somewhere to live. Wow, this is insane. I can’t believe I got in—this is massive.’

Poppy’s mind was whirring like a centrifuge now, with everything pushed to the edges apart from one central piece of information. He’s moving to Melbourne . It was like she’d been at the good part of a dream and woken up just before she got the ice cream or the puppy or the mind-blowing orgasm. She was completely disorientated. The logical part of her brain tried to tell her to congratulate him. The selfish part of her brain was screaming expletives.

‘You okay?’ asked James. His X-ray eyes were back on her.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Poppy, forcing a smile. ‘Congratulations. I just …’ She dropped her eyes. ‘I didn’t realise Melbourne was one of your preferences.’

James was looking at his phone again, re-reading the email. ‘It was a wild card choice, but I figured there’s nothing really keeping me here, and—’

Poppy felt her stomach drop as James prattled on. Nothing . She was nothing . She furiously willed her tear ducts to keep themselves closed. She had no claim over this guy, he was free to move where he wanted and she shouldn’t care—so why did her insides feel like they were being twisted inside-out? She stood up, realising she needed fresh air in her lungs. ‘I think I should go,’ she said.

James seemed startled. ‘Poppy, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Poppy’s veins hardened with resolution. ‘What are we even doing?’ She waved her hand between them. ‘What is this?’

‘We’re …’ James seemed lost for words. ‘We’re whatever you want to be. We’re friends?’

‘James,’ she hissed. ‘I almost had sex with you in a stable. I do not do that with my friends.’

‘Stay.’ He grabbed her hand, his long fingers wrapping around hers.

Her skin buzzed where he touched her but Poppy knew she couldn’t do what he asked. There were some things you could gloss over and laugh off, but someone telling you that you were nothing ? That was too much.

She wrenched her hand away. ‘I can’t do this, James. If calling me your friend with benefits means you get to enjoy commitment-free sex for a few months before you leave without a trace, then count me out. I’m not going to hook up with you to fill a void before you skip off to Melbourne and I never see you again. I’m not a space filler and I don’t want to be that kind of friend.’

‘Poppy, that’s not how I think of you. I literally just found out about Melbourne thirty seconds ago. And I applied ages ago, long before anything happened between us. I have no idea what’s going on; I still need to process everything. But I thought you’d be happy for me?’

‘I am happy for you,’ Poppy lied through gritted teeth. ‘But I can’t do this. I’m going home.’

James stood up. ‘No, this is your night out. I’ll go home.’

‘No, you should celebrate, James. I’ll go home.’

‘This is stupid. We should both stay.’ He put his hand on her shoulder and Poppy felt the weight of his gaze on her. His hand slid down to hold hers. ‘Stay with me, Poppy.’

Poppy couldn’t pull her eyes away and she knew that was where the danger lay. He could turn her brain to mush. She needed to be strong. She shook her head.

‘Then I’m going home.’ James put his near-full beer on the table. ‘You stay and have fun with Dani. I hope you have a great night, Poppy. Cut a rug for me.’

Poppy jerked out of her trance like cold water had been poured over her. ‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘Perfect.’

James turned and weaved through the crowd towards the door, the strobe lights of the dancefloor flickering over his shoulders. Poppy waited for it, but he didn’t look back.

Shell-shocked and on the verge of tears, she turned to the heaving dancefloor. Dani and April were in the centre, sweaty and breathless. Poppy downed her drink and marched towards them.

Dani squealed when she saw her. ‘Hooray! You’ve come to your senses! Here, we saved you a space.’ She pulled Poppy towards her. ‘Where’s James?’ she yelled over the Black Eyed Peas.

‘Gone home,’ Poppy yelled back.

‘Boring!’ yelled Dani. ‘You okay? Need a drink?’

‘Drink!’

‘Let’s go then!’

The three women snaked their way to the bar.

‘We’re doing shots,’ announced Dani, flagging down the barman.

Poppy grimaced but April laughed. ‘When in Rome!’ she said, clapping Poppy on the back. Poppy wondered briefly if it had been a mistake—from a liver-health perspective—to introduce these two.

With the acidic taste of tequila, salt and lemon curdling in her mouth, Poppy let herself be led back to the steaming dancefloor. Dani and April were women on a mission, unfazed by the lack of space and oxygen. They wedged themselves in the centre of the action, carving a gap with their arm-heavy dance moves. For the dancers surrounding them, it was a case of move or be decapitated.

With laser beams of pink and yellow slicing the air above them and a suffocating soundtrack of noughties pop, Poppy let herself be swept up in their maelstrom of sweat, energy, alcohol and temple-rattling dance moves. Feelings she hadn’t felt in ages were coming back to her: physical sensations (high heels stepping on her toes, an extreme thirstiness for vodka sodas) and deep, fervent emotions ( I love my friends so much! What shit is this DJ playing?! ).

‘When the fuck is he going to play Taylor Sssswift?’ Poppy yelled at her friends, vaguely aware she was slurring. ‘I gotta talk some sssense into this idiot.’

‘I’m going home!’ yelled Dani suddenly. ‘I need to drunk dial my husband.’

‘No!’ cried Poppy helplessly as her friend ran towards the door. But there was no stopping Dani when she made a drunken decision. She made them hard and fast and delivered on them rapidly, hence the running.

Oh well, it had been fun while it lasted. Summoning the energy for the non-Dani phase of the night, Poppy turned to April and puffed out her chest. ‘I’ll sort out this music,’ she yelled, and staggered across the dancefloor to the middle-aged man pressing keys on a laptop.

‘Can you play some Taylor Swift?’ she yelled.

‘What?’ he yelled back.

‘Taylor Swift!’ she hollered, squinting to read the playlist on his screen. She’d find the songs herself if only the words would stop moving.

‘Heyyyyy!’ shouted a voice behind her as two arms reached around to grab her wrists. ‘Easy there, tiger. Are you requesting Taylor Swift again?’

‘Yesssss,’ she sighed, leaning into the familiar torso. ‘I love her.’

‘Knew it,’ said Henry, spinning her around to face him. ‘Please never change, Pops,’ he said as he smoothed her hair back. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I see you nearly every day, Henry.’

‘Not like this, though.’

‘No,’ Poppy admitted. ‘Not like this.’ She looked down at herself, her chest sheened with sweat, Dani’s dress sticking to her body way too provocatively. She gave a pitiful whine and fell into Henry’s chest. ‘Oh, Henry, I’m druuuunk.’

‘I can tell,’ said Henry, wrapping his arms around her. His pores smelled of rum and his stubble was scratching her bare shoulder. ‘Should we get out of here?’

Poppy looked over and saw April being lifted into the air by someone she recognised from the tent. Next thing she knew Henry was holding her hand and guiding her out of the pub. The deja vu from the early 2010s was uncanny.

‘N-needed th-this,’ stuttered Poppy, standing near the taxi rank, her body temperature falling rapidly. ‘Air. Cold. Z’good.’

Henry stood next to her in his blue-and-white-striped shirt; his jacket was draped over Poppy’s shoulders. She turned to him. His blue eyes were level with hers. ‘I forgot about your eyes!’ she cackled.

Henry put his arm around her and Poppy tried ineffectually to shake him off. ‘Ya know the good thing about your eyes, Henry? Your eyes are at eye level.’

‘Eye level?’

‘Yesssss, Henry. Eye level! I don’ have to tilt my head to look at ’em. Tall guys are sahhh annoying like that.’

‘You calling me short, McKellar?’

‘You are short, Henry.’

‘I’m taller than you.’

‘Ha! As if that counts. I’m basically a pea. Poppy the pea, thassss meee!’

Henry snickered. ‘You’re a real poet, Pops.’

Poppy elbowed him. ‘And you suck, Henry.’ She was suddenly starving. ‘Can we get a kebab?’

Henry chuckled. ‘Yes, Pops, and we can get extra hummus, just how you like it.’

Poppy leaned into his shoulder as thanks, enjoying the warmth of him. It was bloody cold out here. Willa would understand that.

They traipsed up to the neon-lit kebab shop. Poppy was wobbly on her heels and Henry seemed to be zigzagging as much as she was, which had a pleasantly neutralising effect.

Back at the taxi rank with two half-eaten kebabs, the air was saturated with freezing mist and the pungent smell of garlic.

‘You’re gross,’ said Poppy, picking a shred of chicken out of her kebab. ‘I can’t believe you asked for extra garlic sauce.’

‘Says the girl fingering her kebab.’

‘See? You are gross, Henry.’

Henry harrumphed and rearranged his arm around Poppy’s shoulders. It had been there for a while now and Poppy was ignoring it. Her need for his body warmth was purely functional.

Around her, people shivered and laughed, the steam from their breath clouding the air. There were too many people in this taxi line. She wanted to get home and out of these shoes and out of this bra and into her bed, now.

‘You’re both gross,’ piped up a man in a flannelette jacket sitting in the gutter in front of them. ‘Who wants a kebab at this hour of the night? Tomorrow you’ll wake up and feel like a rat shat in your mouth. Rat turds, that’s all you’ll be able to taste.’

Henry and Poppy gaped at each other and Henry began to shake with silent laughter. Poppy felt herself wobble into him and gasped trying to stifle a giggle.

‘I’m telling you,’ the man continued. ‘You need pure protein. Not some overpriced fifteen-dollar flat bread filled with possum meat and garlic sauce. Kebabs are just a marketing ploy. In my day, we’d go home and eat a block of cheese and drink a pint of milk and we’d be right as rain. Never had a hangover in the seventies, and I drank a fuck-load, I can tell you.’

A yelp escaped Poppy and Henry had his hands on his knees, trying to steady himself from laughing.

‘You think it’s funny, do you?’ said the man, pulling a block of tasty cheese from the breast pocket of his flannelette. He peeled the plastic down and broke off a chunk. ‘Have a chew on that and thank me later.’

Both of them were in fits of giggles now. ‘Already full, mate,’ gasped Henry, grabbing Poppy’s hand and pulling her towards an approaching taxi. ‘Maybe next time.’

They stumbled into the back of the taxi, heaving with laughter. Poppy’s abs hurt. She tried to think of something to make her stop laughing, but the image of the block of yellow cheese emerging from the man’s pocket was replaying in her mind like a gif.

‘Two Penkivil Place,’ called Poppy loudly, as Henry slumped in the seat beside her. ‘What’s your address, Marshall?’

‘Nope, we’re having kick-ons at yours, Pops. Two Penkivil Place for both of us, mate.’

The taxi driver flicked on his indicator and Poppy shoved Henry away from her. ‘I’m not doing kick-ons, Hen. I’m too old. I’m tired .’

Henry grabbed her hand across the middle seat and threaded his fingers through hers. ‘Come on, Pops. For old time’s sake.’

Poppy snatched her hand away from him. ‘Stop being weird, Henry.’

Henry smiled sleepily and patted her head.

The taxi glided through the dark streets, and by the time they pulled up to the house, Poppy could feel her eyelids closing. The night was a hazy black and everything felt so heavy and dizzy and cold. Apart from Henry. Henry seemed warm. But he was somehow already out of the taxi and opening her door and reaching in to help her out. His hands were so toasty, like warm bread. Mmm, bread. She could go some bread right now.

‘This is the lair, hey?’ Henry said, not letting go of Poppy’s hand. He pulled her towards him into a one-armed side hug. He was so warm and solid, it seemed to help with her dizziness.

‘Henry, I feel weird about you coming to my house.’

‘Pops, don’t make things weird.’

She wasn’t trying to. It just felt important to say it. It was weird, right? He had a fiancée. They were ex-lovers. They’d seen each other naked. They had liked seeing each other naked. Even with such wobbly ankles and hazy eyes, it felt like a little person in her peripheral vision was stamping their feet saying, THIS IS WEIRD .

Henry suddenly turned to her and grabbed her face. She smelled the rum on his breath and before she knew what was happening, his wet lips were on hers. A part of her flickered with muscle memory—ha-ha, yes! A drunken kiss with Henry. How hilarious!

The other part of her reacted physically. ‘Henry!’ she yelled, pushing him off, causing herself to teeter on her heels. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’

Henry stumbled back and blinked. The confusion on his face would have been comic if it wasn’t for the coiling anguish in her stomach. A few years ago she would have dreamed of another kiss with Henry. But not now. Not like this.

The temperature seemed to plummet further and Poppy wrapped her arms around herself. ‘Fuck, Henry!’

That little person in the periphery was getting bigger and stamping harder. THIS IS FUCKING WEIRD .

Oh no, wait. Shit. The little person really was getting bigger. It was turning into a really big person with really big shoulders.

‘What’s going on? Are you okay, Poppy?’ James was on her verandah, walking towards her from her front door. Poppy’s stomach plummeted. Oh fuckity-fuck, fuck, fuck.

‘What the hell, James? What are you doing here?’

‘I thought I’d … I was waiting … I wanted to say … I wanted to see if …’ He looked from her to Henry and back. ‘Why the fuck is he here?’ he growled.

‘Mate, fuck off!’ yelled Henry.

James’s eyes widened slowly. ‘You brought him back here?’

How was this happening? The convergence of these worlds, at this moment, in this fucking freezing weather with these fucking uncomfortable shoes. What a fucking joke. A sudden pulsing in her temple told her the hangover tomorrow would be abnormally horrendous. She closed her eyes and whimpered.

‘That’s it,’ James hissed. ‘I’m going. I don’t know why I came.’ His words cut the freezing air like a knife. Disgust was etched across his face. She had never seen him look so terrifying.

‘James, wait,’ cried Poppy helplessly. A million words careened through her head. It’s not what it looks like! He kissed me! But there was too much to explain and not enough time, so nothing came out.

‘You think you know someone,’ said James bitterly.

He stormed off down the dark street. Within seconds, he had been absorbed into the chilling blackness of the night.

She turned back to see Henry looking pissed. ‘What’s his problem?’ Henry asked, putting his arm around her shoulder again.

‘Henry!’ cried Poppy, disentangling herself. ‘Stop it. Just stop it!’ Her drunkenness was morphing into a hazy hangover and the infinitesimal increase in clarity was making the searing pain in her gut even worse. ‘What are you doing?! You’re engaged! What about Willa? What about your model-slash-doctor fiancée? Are you coming back here to slum it with your ex before you marry the unicorn? Is this some kind of weird kink for you? You know me, Henry! I don’t want to be that girl!’

‘I … I … Pops, I thought we were having fun?’

‘We were having fun, Henry, but then you tried to kiss me!’

Henry’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and he turned away from her and kicked her garage door with an uncharacteristic ferocity.

‘She’s left me, Poppy. The love of my life has left me.’ He was sobbing. ‘I’m a mess. I’m a fucking mess. I thought coming back here might help me but now I only feel worse.’

‘ You feel worse?!’ Poppy shouted. ‘You come back here to my house, fuck with my head, piss off James and now have the audacity to play the pity card? You were going to sleep with me for your own selfish ego boost! Jesus, Henry!’

‘Don’t pretend you’re innocent here, Poppy,’ said Henry venomously. ‘You’ve been playing with me for months . Coincidentally bumping into me for months , avoiding mentioning my fiancée for months . You’ve been pretending for months that I was single. Don’t think I didn’t notice.’

Poppy felt as if she’d had the wind kicked out of her.

‘Fuck off, Henry.’

‘Fuck off yourself, Poppy.’

They glared at each other and then, with a look of pure revulsion, the first boy she’d ever loved turned and stormed off down the street, following the same path James had taken moments before.