Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Poppy

"It's labeled shower," I shout so Harper can hear me from the pantry.

The guys finished setting up my furniture three hours ago. I don't need to buy any Duct Tape. It's the sweetest thing that has happened to me in a very long time, and I need to figure out how to thank them. Something other than what Harper suggested; naturally, it involved a sexual act.

Harper and I have been unpacking the necessities, but we're about to wind down for the day, so we have time to get ready for drinks with Julian and Kent tonight. I haven't allowed myself time to process that or the hormone-induced spark that transpired with my new neighbor. If I think about it, I will most likely self-destruct.

I'm going to try to live in the moment like Harper does. If I ponder, my mind drifts back to the past, a place I can't go anymore in this new chapter.

"Oh, I found it," Harper replies.

I'm letting her shower first as I unpack the pantry.I grab the box cutter and break down the box I just finished. My front door is still held open by another box. Closing it is useless since we pile up the finished boxes and then cart them down to the recycle room three floors below us.

When I exit my front door, I see Julian inside his apartment. His front door is opened, and his head is tipped back in deep laughter. His laugh makes you feel warm and cozy, like sitting in front of a campfire roasting marshmallows, wearing a plaid shirt and Ugg boots.

Our eyes connect, and he nods and smiles. I do the same, feeling my cheeks blush like a schoolgirl.

I place the box on our pile and try to make more space in the hallway for others to pass.

"Pops! Poppy! Poppy! What the hell is this?" Harper calls from my apartment.

In a hurry, I drop the box and rush inside.

"Poppy!"

"What? I'm here. What's wrong?" I shout.

Harper comes rushing into my kitchen with a box labeled "Shower." She tosses it to the ground with a big thud, then charges to my pantry to the shelf she helped unpack. She grabs half a dozen items and charges back out.

"Intervention time!" She declares her blue eyes ablaze with determination.

"What now?" I groan. Were the crotchless lace panties not enough for the day?

She holds up her pointer finger and juts her hip out. "I'm doing this for your own good. Remember."

I nod. Sometimes, it's better to agree, let Harper vent, and then fight my argument.

"I had my suspicions about your taste buds when you forced me into ordering that ill-fated pumpkin cheesecake three months ago. That dessert was a tragedy on Shakespearean levels; I'm still in recovery."

"That was delicious. You ate it, too." I rebuttal as I close the distance to my kitchen island.

"I ate the crust because the filling was atrocious."

"It wasn't that bad," I mutter. "Go ahead, make your point." I wave my hand.

She slams down the first box she grabbed from my pantry. It's my pumpkin pancake mix.

"When I saw this, I wasn't surprised." She forcefully slams the bag containing my pumpkin-flavored coffee beans and a bottle of pumpkin spice coffee flavor next."When I saw these items, I thought, ‘Okay, she's enthused.'" She widens her eyes before she slams down another box.

Okay, I see where she is going. It's my pumpkin chickpea pasta noodles. At least she didn't see the pumpkin sauce meant to be paired with it.

"When I unpacked this, I thought, 'Holy shit, my best friend has lost all sense of taste. Call in a Michelin Chef so we can get her all tuned up and back to eating like a proper person should.'"

I sniffle a laugh. "I like pumpkin spice flavor."

"Would you like it?" Her eyebrows raise up to her hairline. "Liking a flavor is ordering a seasonal coffee. You have pumpkin spiced your pussy." She flattens her palms on my island as her eyes roam over all the offending items.

"What?" I gasp. Seriously, what is she talking about?

She rounds the island and grabs the box labeled "Shower." She takes out my pumpkin spice-scented hand soap along with the shower gel.

Okay, maybe I went a little overboard with the pumpkin-themed purchases, but hey, it was a two-for-one deal and that scent? Irresistible.

Now, when it comes to the whole food category, I've got no excuse. I'm a certified pumpkin spice enthusiast. You know, one of 'those people' who sees the word "pumpkin" and automatically reaches for their wallet.

The sad truth? It's my guilty pleasure because, in some weird way, it makes me feel like I have a family again. I'll never confess this to Harper, though. God knows what she'd do. She'd probably abandon her dream job and relocate just to be closer to me.

I've kept so much from my best friend, not because I wanted to but because I had to.

"Body wash." She states. "This goes all over your body, Poppy. All over. The scent gets in all the nooks and grooves. Who wants a puss puss smelling like pumpkin?"

I cringe, "Don't say puss puss."

"That is the least of your worries. No man wants a pumpkin spice-scented pussy." She retorts with her hands on her hips.

Okay…so I get it. I never thought about it that way.

"Did someone say pumpkin pussy." A cheerful voice chirps.

Kill me now. It's Kent.

My hand flies to my mouth in horror; my cheeks are literally going to have third-degree burns from the embarrassment I've had to endure today.

I forgot my front door was open. So is Julian's! Please tell me they have not been listening to everything!

Footsteps sound, and I hear Kent getting closer. I look up at my ceiling.Okay, God, now would be a fantastic time for me to faint again. Please, pretty please.

"Yes, pumpkin spice-scented puss puss. Does that sound appetizing to you?" Harper remarks. How the heck is her tone so serious? We're talking about pumpkin-scented pussy, and her face is straight.

Kent comes closer and leans against my kitchen island; his eyes darken as he looks at Harper and replies, "Depends on whose it is."

"Not mine," Harper expresses.

"Then no, I don't want it." Kent grins as his eyes drink her in.

Harper grabs the shower wash and waves it, "See, Poppy, no man wants a pumpkin-scented puss puss."

I close my eyes, "You made your point." I sigh.

I am beyond embarrassed, but this memory will live on and fill me with laughter. I will think about this Harp-a-thon whenever I need a good laugh or miss my friend. That's why I love her. She's the sister I never had and the embracing mother I lost. She embodies it all in one cringe-worthy best friend.

Her blue eyes flick past me; my body pivots to follow. Julian is leaning against my door frame, legs crossed, with a huge cringe on his face. His cheeks have a fresh flush of red, making his hair look more black than brown now. Behind him are two other guys who helped assemble my furniture.

They heard everything. All my pumpkin spice craziness. Puss puss included!

I guess this is a good thing; it's all my craziness laid bare. Take it or leave it.

"What about you, Julian," Kent shouts. "You want pumpkin spice puss puss."

I can't help it. A laugh escapes me. I roll my lips to hide it.

His eyes lock with mine, and the giggle vanishes from my lips. His eyes turn a dark stormy grey as they zero in on my lips, "I was told to eat all my fruits and vegetables." His tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip. "Ladies," he nods as he dips his chin, then leaves and returns to his apartment.

Sweet lord, have mercy. I don't know if I can handle Texas.

***

"Ok," Harper begins as she combs through my wet hair. "It smells good. I get it, but I can't condone it." She bites.

We both had no choice but to use the pumpkin spice shower gel. In my defense, I had nothing else, and we both badly needed a shower.

"It's called karma. You are going to be haunted by pumpkin spice now," I joke.

She grabs a new section of hair and gently combs it. We're in my bathroom getting ready for drinks with Kent and Julian.

I'm exhausted; my body feels like jelly, but little sparks are flickering deep in my belly. Sparks I haven't felt in years.

"I'm nervous. Julian is…different," I confess. "And he's my neighbor; I should keep things friendly."

"Who's to say giving an orgasm can't be a friendly neighborly gesture."

"No one is giving orgasms out tonight." I retort.

"Tonight?" Her face gleams, "So maybe another night?" she shimmies her shoulders.

"Can we stay focused?"

She shrugs. "Different is good. It means something new and fresh. He's a man. A real man. You usually go for the polished country club type." She sticks out her tongue in disgust.

I can't argue with that. It was my type because I believed they were safe, stable, attractive, well-rounded, and had a life plan. Little did I know how wrong I was.

"What about Kent?" I inquire, rummaging through my cosmetic bag for my face lotion. My skin feels like it's been left in the desert sun too long—chap and dry. I'm going to have to baste myself like a turkey and pray my makeup doesn't decide to slide off my face in protest against the moisture.

Harper sets down the hairbrush and jumps up on my vanity to sit. "Kent is sin, and you know how much I like to make deals with devils." She grins, but it doesn't reach her eyes. She looks over my new bathroom until her gaze lands on the marble accent wall behind my bathtub. Her gaze locks onto the veins in the stone as though reading the future from a palm.

"When will you settle down, Harper?" I blurt out. She has been playing the field for years now. Not that I expect her to look at Kent and say, 'That's it, he's the one,' but one day she might.

"Not everyone is the marrying type, Pops." She rolls her eyes, but they are anxious.

I swallow what feels like a wad of paper. "Not everyone dies," I mutter, tipping my chin up to look at my friend. "Look at me; some of us are forced to live." The truth is she won't settle down because she watched her best friend lose her parents, then her brother, and then emotionally lose her last brother. Harper is terrified that the person she chooses to love will be taken.

"Life is short," she turns back to face me, brings her knees up, and hugs them. "I just want to experience everything. Relationships can't allow me to do that."

"Intervention time," I quip.

She rolls her eyes.

"You want me to get out there and live my life, but I want you to do the same. You might be experiencing things, but that's not the same as living."

She hops off the counter, "We're getting way too deep. That's only allowed when it's that time of the month. I need a pint of ice cream, cashmere PJs, and a box of chocolate to discuss this matter further." She raises her wrist and looks at her watch, "Plus, we need to get ready, and we still have to go through the new clothes I bought you. Something tells me Julian is a crotchless lace panties type of man, but I could be wrong; he's quiet, and they are usually the kinkiest. Maybe I should have ordered those pink leather panties for you." She kids, then turns to leave.

She's covering up her fear with excitement. One day, she will have to face it like I am.