“Poppy, you are the best.”
“I’m really not,” she says softly.
My mouth hangs open at how she dismisses herself.
I grab her hand. “Look at me, Poppy.”
She turns her head to me, those big, hazel eyes sad. That ache in my chest deepens, and a wild feeling claws up my chest. This isn’t right. Someone as amazing as Poppy shouldn’t feel bad about herself. Ever.
I’m desperate for her to believe my words. Desperate for her to understand just how amazing she is.
I hold her gaze. “You, Poppy, are the best. Hands down, no question. You are the fucking best.”
Her eyes widen at the conviction in my tone.
“You’re the smartest person I know. You’re the most accomplished and most impressive student at Hollis. Without a doubt.”
She’s quiet as she stares at me, like she’s taking in everything I’m saying.
“You have a perfect GPA, you volunteer, you work as a tutor, and you’re a YouTube star.”
She cracks a small smile. “I’m not a YouTube star.”
“You absolutely fucking are,” I say without missing a beat.
She looks down at our joined hands. “I don’t even have a hundred thousand followers,” she mumbles.
“You will. It’s gonna happen soon.”
She looks back at me, her eyes shy but hopeful now. Like what I’m saying is actually resonating.
“How can you be so sure?” she asks after a second.
“Because I’ve seen how hard you work. And you’re the best because of it. Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fucking idiot.”
She blinks at me. This time when she smiles, her entire expression is warm. That tight feeling in my chest fades.
“Thank you. I really needed to hear that.” She sniffles again. I dig a clean tissue from the pocket of my joggers and gently wipe her nose.
She smiles again and takes the tissue from me. She dabs at her cheeks. “Sorry about that phone call.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “What’s not okay is your dad talking down to you.”
Her gaze falls to our joined hands again. “He’s always been like that.”
“An asshole?”
I bite the tip of my tongue the second the words leave my mouth. I shouldn’t have said that.
But Poppy just nods. “Yeah, kind of.” She tugs at her ponytail with her free hand. “He and my mom are pretty intense about their careers. They take a lot of pride in being corporate lawyers.”
She’s quiet for a second. I want to say that doesn’t give her dad the right to make her feel like crap, but I hold back. She’s opening up to me, and I want to give her the space and comfort to do that.
I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
“He holds himself to a pretty high standard. So does my mom. They went to Stanford Law School. They both got near-perfect LSAT scores. They both had incredible grades and graduated at the top of their classes. They both worked reallyhard and expected themselves to be perfect. They expect the same from me.”
“You’re just as good as they are, Poppy. Better, even. I bet neither of them had a YouTube channel with thousands of followers.”
