By the time halftime rolled around, Poppy’s stomach was well on its way to trying to cannibalize itself.
She’d skipped breakfast and lunch, too nervous to choke down more than a handful of popcorn and three stale Altoids that had lost their signature cinnamony kick. Now it was nearly six thirty and Poppy was starving.
She eyed the buffet table with a growing frown. She didn’t want miso-glazed salmon or chicken cordon bleu from a chafing dish. She wanted nachos.Pulled porknachos. Slathered in sour cream and queso blanco, covered in pickled jalapeños and pico de gallo. Or some loaded jojos maybe.Ooh,with bacon bits. Real, greasy stadium food, the kind she had to trek to one of the concession stands to find.
Poppy slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“Going somewhere?”
“Jesus,” she yelped, hand flying to her chest, heart slingshot into her throat. “You havegotto start wearing a bell.”
Rosaline snorted softly. “Hate to break it to you, but collars aren’t really my style.” She cocked her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulder like ink. “Besides, that noise you make when I sneak up on you? Extremely amusing.”
Poppy swallowed hard, toes curling inside her sneakers. Shecould think of a few other noises she could make that Rosaline might find equally as diverting, but she wasn’t going to because it would only make her feel crazier than she already did. “Well then, for your sake, I hope it will be a funny heart attack.”
Poppy’s stomach took that moment to unleash another ungodly growl. Not one of the noises she had in mind, but Rosaline laughed anyway.
“Hungry?”
“Starved.” Poppy pressed a hand against her stomach. “I’m going to find food.”
Rosaline arched a brow. “You realize there’s a whole table of food behind you, right?”
“Yeah, well, I don’t want chilled asparagus swimming in lemon aioli or a tuna niçoise salad board.” She liked asparagus as much as the next person but... “It’s a football game. I want nachos.”
She wouldn’t go to an expensive steak house and order a hot dog any more than she wanted to eat shrimp cocktail and ahi poke while watching guys in tights tackle each other.
Rosaline pursed her lips. “Okay.” She turned on her heel and marched straight for the door.
Poppy stared for a moment before her feet got with the program and she hurried after Rosaline. “Where are you going?”
“If I have to smile and pretend to be nice to one more person who just wants to pick my brain about Lyric, I’m going to commit homicide.” Her lips twitched. “That and you kind of sold me on the nachos.”
“You’re saying you don’t think you could manage Lyric’s PR from prison?”
“It’s more that I look god awful in orange than my lack of faith in my ability to do my job from inside a cell.”
Oh, bullshit. Rosaline was one of those people who could makea paper bag look like haute couture. “I don’t know. I bet you’d rock a prison jumpsuit. Very, uh,Orange Is the New Black, you know?”
A surprised laugh burst from Rosaline’s lips. “Don’t get me wrong, Taylor Schilling’s pretty and all, but I, for one, am kind of hoping I never have to find out how well I’d fare in a penitentiary.”
Pretty.Poppy tried hard not to make a face at Rosaline’s use of the ultimate ambiguous compliment.Prettycould mean everything from the straightest of flattery tothat dress would look better on my floor.
Rosaline’s footsteps slowed as they reached the end of the hall. “Left or right? I have no clue where I’m going.”
To be fair, the place was a maze, not helped by the fact that the halls all looked the same, the walls identical cement block painted light charcoal, the floors throughout the stadium all the same forest green stamped with the Pathfinders logo, two interlocking capitalPs.
“Unless you want to wind up in the visiting team’s locker room? Left.”
“I think I’ll skip that part of the tour if you don’t mind.” Rosaline wrinkled her nose. “Eau de sweaty football player doesn’t really appeal to me.”
“I think you meanewde sweaty football player.”
Rosaline laughed. “Touché.”
Poppy tugged her ponytail in front of her mouth, hiding her smile behind her hair. Every laugh from Rosaline was a windfall, an unexpected boon that put a bounce in her step, mirroring the lightness in her chest. “Aside from narrowly avoiding a felony charge, are you enjoying the game?”
“I am. And to be fair, it was mostly only Cash’s mother who tried to pump me for information.”
