Poppy
Ends Of The Earth by Ty Myers
Hot water pounds my shoulders, washing grease and dirt down the drain in dark, swirling ribbons. I brace my hands against the tile and let my head tip forward, breathing through the steam as my muscles finally start to loosen.
God, I needed this.
My body’s been tight all day. Not just sore but wound up. Like I’ve been dealing with pent up frustration and I need a release. My shoulders ache. My jaw hurts from clenching. Even now, my stomach feels knotted, restless in a way sleep never fixes.
I slide my fingers through my hair, working the shampoo into my scalp. It’s been a disaster all day. Grease stained. Pulled back too tight. My skin reeking of gasoline and oil no matter how many times I scrubbed my hands at the sink.
Now I’m clean and feel human again.
The truth I don’t say out loud presses in on me as the water runs. My life’s been one worry stacked on top of another for so long I don’t even remember what it feels like to relax without guilt tagging along behind it. The shop. Owen. Bills. Calls that never end. Problems that don’t stay fixed.
I don’t need a vacation or a spa day or some miracle solution. I need relief.
I shut my eyes and let the water hit harder, like it might knock the tension loose if it tries hard enough, but it doesn’t.
I turn the water off and I reach for my towel.
Nothing.
I stare at the empty hook as if it personally betrayed me. Of course I forgot to grab one from the dryer. Because the universe clearly decided today wasn’t chaotic enough. I rest my forehead against the cool tile and close my eyes. I’m too bone-tired to deal with this.
Owen’s over at The Dogwood helping Maggie, which means I’m alone. No witnesses. I can make a quick dash to the dryer like a naked ninja.
I crack the bathroom door and creep down the hallway, every step careful. The last thing I need is to slip, fall, and have to explain to an ER doctor why I’m naked and broken.
I yank open the dryer, grab two towels like I’m pulling off a crime, flip my hair forward, and wrap one around my head. The other goes around my body, tucked tight like my dignity depends on it.
I straighten and look over and lock eyes with Ollie.He’s sitting on my couch with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. Completely still. Like a wildlife documentary moment where the narrator whispers, behold the stunned firefighter encountering a wild, freshly showered Poppy naked in her natural habitat.
I yelp, “Oh my God! I forgot you were coming.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to make a smartass comment, then shuts it again. His eyes don’t leave me. I feel the weight of his gaze as it drifts downward, slow and deliberate, lingering just a little too long where the towel doesn’t quite hide me. My stomach flips, my cheeks burn, and I clutch the towel tighter, partly to cover myself, partly because I can’t stop noticing the way he’s looking.
“Not a good time for a ‘that’s what she said’ comment, Ollie!” I shriek, and bolt back down the hall, dignity gone.
I dive into the bathroom, tightening the towel to my chest, and scream, “OLLIE, THIS IS SO EMBARASSING!”
All I hear is him saying calmly, “I told you I was coming over to grab you for dinner. You never mentioned I’d be getting a show, too.”
“A SHOW?” I practically howl. “OH MY GOD. Why didn’t you say something? You just sat there all quiet.”
He calls back, “I didn’t know what to say. ‘Hi Poppy, I can see your naked hot body.’ Not ideal.”
I cover my face with my palm. I want to die. Actually die. But wait, did he call me hot? Ollie Kendrick called me hot. I mean, sixteen-year-old me would be screaming right now. But twenty-eight-year-old me is now suddenly wide awake with adrenaline.
Then he adds, in the most dramatic voice, “I mean, if you wanted to seduce me, you could’ve just said so. You didn’t need to act out a shampoo commercial.”
I huff as I pull on my clothes quickly and towel dry my hair. “I hate you.”
He laughs and calls back, “No, you don’t.”
I head down the hall and flop down next to him. “Did you at least bring me a coffee?”
He smiles and reaches down, picks it up, and hands it to me. His fingers brush mine for just a second as Itake the cup.
