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Prologue
Do you think when you rip the petals off a rose, it can feel? I think it can. Just because it can't talk doesn't mean it can't feel pain. Just because I couldn't talk about what happened to me didn't mean I couldn't still feel the scars.
I ran, I started over, I fell in love. I was chasing tomorrow, hoping for a new beginning with Julian. The problem was chasing was still a form of running. If I wanted the future I saw with Julian, then I had to claim what I wanted, face my monsters, and allow myself not to feel guilt about Peter's death.
I had to claim tomorrow.
Chapter 1
Poppy
The past: The night of the party.
Have you ever found yourself trapped in a moment you cannot escape, like realizing you've forgotten a Christmas gift on the morning of the holiday, feeling the inevitable disappointment that will shadow the festivities? That same inescapable dread consumes me as Andrew's kisses become more insistent, a silent prelude to a chapter we're on the cusp of turning.
I can tell from the way Andrew is kissing me that I can’t stop him either. It’s been months of trying to prolong something I should desperately want. I should want to have sex with my boyfriend. I should want to feel what sex feels like and take our relationship to the next level.
I should but…
But…
It’s not that I’mnotready; I think I am.
There in lies the truth. Hesitation.
So I’m not ready.
This isn’t a conversation where it’s an,‘it’s not you, it’s me,’in my case, it’s not me. It’s Andrew.
Yes, I know our relationship isn’t the best, but love isn’t all happy moments.Right?
When was the last time you were happy, Poppy?
I’m smart, really I am. I know I should leave him. I know that his words are manipulations to mold me into the ideal girlfriend he wants.
I know when he hits me, that should be the final straw.
I know.
I.
Know.
Yet here I am attending a party wearing the clothes he told me to wear because, well, I might be a very smart woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m not also scared. Scared people do; well, we sometimes do nothing because that is less scary than actually doing something, like leaving the man I thought was the perfect guy.
The music from the party in his pool house thumps like war drums in the distance making thinking harder, and it gives me a good excuse to just stop thinking for a moment. Yet again, do nothing.
We left the pool house and came to his main house, a place he doesn't let others venture inside, but tonight, I get the chance to. Andrew wanted quiet and some space, which makes me wonder why he decided to throw a party if only to hide away from it.
When his hands undo the final button on my thin pale pink sweater, I step back, cold air whooshing in and wrapping around my bra and bare stomach. Andrew looks down at me with narrowed, questioning eyes.
I gulp, sensing an argument.“I just need a drink,” I say as I turn, giving my back to him, and walk to grab my red Solo cup I placed on his desk. It’s more rum than coke and burns as I swallow it. That’s okay; I like the burn because it washes away his taste.
How did I go from hesitantly excited that the hottest guy in school wanted me, to scared and timid?
I want to shout, 'It’s over,' so instead, I take another huge gulp of my drink.
I know Andrew wants to have sex tonight. I see the condoms on his nightstand.He crowds my back, pushing my hair to the other side as he kisses my neck. His hands grab the back of my bra and unclasp it; my body stiffens when I’m free from it.
