I remember sneaking away from the crowd with her, our toes in the sand, moonlight cutting a silver line across the lake. I leaned in before I could talk myself out of it and kissed her. She let me, just for a second. Her mouth was soft and warm and perfect against mine.
Then she pulled back.
“Ollie,” she says, breathless and scared all at once. “We can’t.”
I remember the way my chest tightens, and the hurt I felt. “Why not?”
She looks at me like she’s holding something fragile. “Because I can’t lose you. I can’t ruin our friendship. You’re my best friend.”
And that’s it. That’s where it ended. Her best friend. Period. That’s all I was. Friend zoned and that’s all I allowed myself to be.
I didn’t push her or beg her to see me. I had just nodded, swallowed it down, and told myself that loving her quietly was better than losing her completely. I said to myself that night on the beach that friendship with Poppy would be enough.
For ten years, I’ve tried so hard to believe that lie, but being her friend will never be enough.
I shut my locker harder than I mean to, the clang echoing through the bay. One of the guys glances up but doesn’t say anything. They’re used to me being in my head.
Years of birthdays and holidays and late-night phone calls. Years of watching her shoulder more responsibility than anyone should. Watching her become the strongest person I know. Watching her love fiercely and protectively, and never once asking for help.
If I’d had her back then, I probably would’ve lost her. We were kids. Messy and impulsive, and still figuring out who we were. I would’ve loved her wrong and probably messed it all up. She would’ve burned herself out trying to hold us both together with everything else she had on her plate. Friendship saved us.
But now?
Now she’s admitting the fears and feelings both of us have wrapped up in layers for years. And those layers are stripping off one by one, and our hearts are laid bare now.
I drag a hand down my face and blow out a breath.
I meant what I said. I can’t fuck her unless she’s really mine. Not because I don’t want her. God, I want her so bad it hurts. But because I know myself. I know once I cross that line, there’s no going back. I give everything. I don’t know how not to. But that’s the one piece of me I can’t give unless it means something with her. And I can’t risk it if she’s still halfway out the door.
I don’t want to be the guy she’s with when she’s lonely. I don’t want to be the mistake she regrets, the one that changed things. I don’t want her to wake up one day and realize she needed comfort, not me.
I want her to choose me the way I’ve been silently choosing her for years as a best friend, secretly always wanting more. Only I don’t want to be silent anymore. I want us to be loud and proud.And if it took Maggie making up some bullshit lie to get us there, then fine. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the woman I love to love me back and finally see me as more than her best friend. I want to be everything with her. Fuck her stupid picket fences. I’m not even a picket fence kind of guy. I’m a guy who is hopelessly in love with Poppy Grace Murphy—head over goddamn heels.
I want her. Not just the way she fits against me like she was always meant to. I want her mornings, her bad days, and her responsibilities. I want Owen’s basketball practices and games, late dinners, and fixing things that break together. I want the life she already has. I want to be in it.
The station quiets as the shift settles back into routine. Someone starts a pot of coffee. Someone else flips on the TV in the common room. Normal life resumes with ordinary day-to-day noise. Meanwhile, my heart’s still a mess from last night in the shower when I ate her until I felt like I would come just hearing her moan my name.
I think about the way she looked at me when I said I couldn’t do this unless it were real. The fear in her eyes. The want. The way she didn’t break things off then and there. She’s getting closer.
That’s what’s different now.
The gym smells like smelly middle school boy sweat and the sharp bite of disinfectant they never quite get rid of. I clap my hands a few times, and the boys hustle back into line, sneakers squeaking, faces flushed and happy.
“Free throws,” I call. “Same rules. Miss it, and you cheer louder for the next guy.”
Groans and playful laughing. Owen grins at me like this isthe best part of his day. Because here no one is going to mess with him. He can just be happy, have fun, and play a sport. The way it should be. That alone makes it worth it. Principal Masters has checked in and thanked me profusely for stepping in to coach at the last minute. I haven’t even seen Toddy around and wonder if he left town. Good riddance. Because he’s still facing legal trouble for hitting Owen and I’m seeing that through, making sure he gets what’s coming to him.
I’m watching Owen square his shoulders to make a free throw when Walker steps in through the side door. He leans against the wall for a second, taking it all in, then makes his way towards me, his black cowboy hat pulled low.
He walks over and claps me on the back. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I say quietly.
“Just checking in. Poppy said I could find you here. I’m waiting on Mack to finish up band practice next door at the high school and figured I’d come say hi.”
“Good to see you. Just coaching these boys and working. What’s new with you?”
Before Walker can respond, Owen sinks his shot and pumps his fist. I point at him. “That’s how it’s done.”
