THIRTY-SIX

                                    

                                          
I looked straight into Poppy's eyes and shook my head. "Pink isn't my colour."
Her eyes widened and without realising, she grabbed my hand. After a while, she realised what she did, and squeezed my hand. She was holding a baby pink hoodie, demanding that I would try it on. "Come on, Finn. Just try it on. For me?"
I hated how she knew how to get to me. Not that it was a bad thing. I've built up my walls so high, and so strong for so long, that it came as a shock to me how she suddenly became a huge part of my life. I had always been a person who kept to themselves, a trait I picked up from my mother. Only a few people have seen the real me, and only a few have understood.
I chuckled, even though I had thought about my mother, of whom I hated with all my being. "Poppy Starr, what's wrong with the hoodie I'm wearing?" I asked.
"I mean there's nothing wrong with it. I'm sure there's sentimentality to it... despite how old and rugged it is," she giggled.
"I got this for my eleventh birthday, thank you very much," I replied, my mouth agape.
"Yeah. No shit Sherlock." She pushed the pink hoodie into my chest and crossed her arms. "Move."
I rolled my eyes. "If you insist."
If my life were a movie, and this moment was a scene, I'm sure it would be a montage. You know the scenes, in stereotypical teen movies where people are trying on clothes, with obnoxious music in the background, and the girl figures out that she's in love with the guy. Well, it's not like that. I wish it was. But at least I'm with Poppy. That's all that matters.
I walked out of the dressing room, wearing the baby pink hoodie that Poppy had chosen for me. She beamed over the fact that she was right, and I was wrong.
"You can say it," I puffed, adjusting the hood.
"I told you so," she said. She ran her fingers through her hair and laughed.
"Maybe pink is my colour after all," I said, pretending to strut. I took off the hoodie and put it to the side.
"Maybe so," she giggled. She grabbed the hoodie and made her way to the checkout.


We arrived back at Poppy's at around 3. Reuben glared at me before we went into her room.
"I don't think your brother likes me very much," I laughed. I tried to act like it didn't bother me when inside it was killing me. The laugh came out sounding all nervous and weird, and I sighed.
"Reuben's just a dick. Honestly just ignore him," she said quietly. "He was just in a bad mood. I doubt he hates you. Is that what you're stressed about?" she turned her head slowly to face me.
"Stressed?" I asked. Of course, I was stressed about a lot of things, but the last thing I wanted was to push it onto Poppy.
"I don't know... you just didn't seem like you today." Her voice softened, almost a murmur.
I sighed. "Poppy. I haven't been completely honest with you," I sighed. Although I broke away from her gaze, I felt her eyes drop. Her eyes were washed out green colour, like a jumper that had been washed too many times.
She tried to laugh it off, but she failed miserably. "What do you mean you haven't been honest with me?"
"About my Mother... look I want to tell you about her... believe me... I do... it's just I don't know if you can handle the truth. Like I want to show you the real me... but I... I just," I stuttered, unsure of what words to use, and in what order to use them.
"Oh. Okay." I could feel her heart sink.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. She placed her hand on mine, and we intertwined our fingers. 
"I understand. Completely. You can tell me about her when you feel is best. I don't want you to feel bad over not telling me," she said, her words genuine, falling slowly from her mouth.
I felt the sides of my mouth curl up until eventually I smiled. I looked up at her eyes again, and I knew. People have told me that home is not a place, it's a person. At that moment, I had found my home. I had found my person.


Her hand was soft, and smooth and intertwined with mine. It fit perfectly, her small, thin fingers filled in the gaps. Her handheld mine for a few seconds before she shoved it back in the pocket of her jacket. Usually, I would've been offended, but because it was Poppy, I just smiled. I wanted to feel her lips against mine. I wanted to feel her heartbeat. I wanted more. So much more. I reached for her hand from her pocket and held it. She smiled. Oh, how I longed to see that smile. Poppy had walked me back to Cal's this time. But out of the time we spent walking back, I just couldn't stop picturing us together. What a wonderful thing that would be.
"So... I have a singing recital soon," she said. "It would be cool if you came."
"How soon? You know how busy my schedule is," I joked.
"Like tomorrow night..." she answered, rolling her eyes.
 "You could've told me a bit sooner than that, don't you think?" I puffed.
"I know, I know. But I didn't know if you were a serial killer or something until now-" she said.
"Well, I'm glad I've shown you that I don't want to kill you," I interrupted, gliding my fingers down the palm of her hand, trying to make the most of this moment.
She rolled her eyes, pretending to care, but I knew she didn't. "I would invite Josh, and Blaidd, and Charlie but..." she began, wrapping her fingers around mine.
"But?" I asked.
"Let's just say that it's not their scene... to put it kindly..."
"You just don't want a bunch of emos showing up to your sophisticated singing thing," I joked, and she nodded, trying not to laugh.
"Also why do you even think I'd be interested? I mean look at me for a start," I added, pointing towards my hoodie, and trainers that had gaping holes in them.
"There's just something about you," she said, squinting her eyes. Which was true, and now she knew I had been keeping something from her. I still wonder why she hasn't left me yet. Perhaps there is hope for us after all. 
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, genuinely curious.
"I don't know... but someday," she answered, her voice went quieter and softer than usual.
"Maybe one day," I said, mimicking her tone of voice.
We arrived at Cal's and we parted ways. Her fingers slipped through mine like sand, and my heartbeat slowed down. 
"I'll see you tomorrow night," she said.
"It's a date... well in a manner of speaking," I joked, and her cheeks went red.
"Goodnight Finley Green," she said, before walking home.
"Goodnight. Poppy Starr," I replied, before stepping into Cal's. Her name echoed in my brain.