Archive of Our Own

"It was a wide ride going from the rolling plains of Farmsville to here, and I'm going to miss each and every one of you..."

"Me too?" Crispin (or what's-his-name) asks from somewhere far away in the crowd. Of course not dude, learn how to take a hint. "Like I said, I'm going to miss almost each and every one of you... But the person I'm going to miss the most is Poppy Min-Sinclair."

You know this is a bad idea, really bad idea. There is no telling how Poppy is gonna react to this potentially disastrous public confession-slash-provocation right in the open like this. But everything about the two of you has always been scrutinized by every god-damned person in this hellhole, so why would this be any different? "And I know she'll miss me too."

You know why it is different. A voice nags you in the back of your head, which sounds suspiciously like Zoey for a moment. But at least she can't murder you in broad daylight here, in front of everyone, and get away with it. Go on babe!

A gasp goes up from the crowd and whispering murmurs start to spread, you take a deep breath. With all queenly grace you can muster at the moment, you make the way down the stage and lock eyes with Poppy. She already looks murderous, fuming at every step you take closer to her, the pure rage and that familiar snarl curled at her lips throw your heart into somersaults.

Was it from adrenaline, or from somewhere deep down inside the pit hole you call heart? The way it sings and flutters and downright stops beating every time she is within five feet of you.

Like a sailor to a siren's song, you are helpless to the magnetic pull of Poppy, a common occurrence ever since you first laid eyes on her two years ago, already knew she would be a significant part of your journey here at Belvoire. You just hope she is willing to be in your life for longer than that, longer than you can ever wish for.

Every eye on the field lands on you two, her jaw clenches as she growls out, "Take it back right now, Farmsville." The threat is clear. Or I will make your life a living hell even if it is the last thing I do.

But Pop, you would need to be in my life to make that happen. And there is nothing else I want more in the world.

"No," you say, repelling her just the way you know she secretly loves. Her eyes narrow, the scowl still visible on her beautiful, beautiful face. You just hope she doesn't actually strangle or maul you right on the spot.

Choose your words carefully, your brain helpfully chimes in, we want Poppy to be furious but hooked, do not give her a reason to never want anything to do with you anymore. "After two years at each other's throats, there's just one thing I need to say, here and in front of everyone."

Stay calm. This is not the time to screw things up. "Poppy, it's always been you. From the moment you first insulted me on the squad, there's just been this spark between us."

"It's called loathing. If you bothered to visit a single English class this year, you'd know that." Was her automatic reply, forever contradict everything you say. You wouldn't mind hearing it for the rest of your life. Her mesmerizing brown eyes look right back into your own blue ones as she says it, voice outraged and indignant, never back down from a fight, never willing to relent.

God how you love this girl, with every erratic and foolish beat of your heart. "I loathe you too, Pop."

Before Poppy can let out another word, before she can reject you, you grip the back of her neck and pull her in, closer and closer, crashing your lips into hers, swallowing her insults and tangling your fingers in her hair in a passionated kiss. But she doesn't seem surprised, perhaps too familiar with your expressions, your intonation, your movements whenever you are about to do something stupid that gets on her nerves and infuriates her to no end. Yet she allows you to kiss her anyway, and kisses you back just as hard.

A memory of last night flashes behind your eyelids and you try to shoo away the totally inappropriate thoughts to have on the stage right now. Maybe later though.

When you pull back, you give yourself a moment to take in the sight of Poppy, all full lips and angry lines and harsh frown. You think you can see freckles of gold in her deep brown eyes, the way they penetrate right into your souls, sending a shiver through your body, crawling at your heart and squeezing it, taking root there easily and effortlessly like your entire soul has always been her queendom, waiting and longing to be claimed.

You look away immediately and hurry back on stage, but it was too late. You have just given her the ultimate ammunition to destroy every fiber of your being. The truth is out, without a care in the world, and you want to strangle and take it back because who gives it free rein to totally dismiss those loud screaming alarm bells the rational part of your human-superior brain put there as defensive mechanisms against the devil incarnate herself like that? "Alright, Dean Steinhelm, go ahead and take us out."

"If only..." The dean mumbles under her breath, probably wishing she could do that literally, steps up to the podium and waves her hands over the crowd of headaches on the field, the very manifestation of each and every nightmare haunting her these last couple of years.

You wouldn't be surprised if she starts slapping legal charges against you for making her demise come earlier than human average so hard that your great-grandchildren can feel the burn of it. "With the power vested in me by your tuition payments, I now pronounce you Belvoire's graduating class of 2021. Now get the hell off my campus before I call the cops."

Ford rips his shirt off, Chloe jumps up and locks her legs around Carter's waist. Were secretly rooting for her and Veronica but hey, whatever gets you going Chlo! You bounce down the stairs of the stage, leading the way to the afterparty to celebrate saying goodbyes to Belvoire University one last time.

That was the plan, anyway. Until Zoey intercepts you at the last step, eyes wide and mouth barely refrains from falling open in shock. "What the hell was that, Bea? That is not how your graduation speech was supposed to go. I would know because I helped you write it! Do you have a death wish or something?"

You don't meet her eyes, back straight and looking away to the green grass of the football field, the white clouds high up your head, the colorful Belvoire-themed graduation banner near the bleacher, and even catch sight of Ina waving at you from her seat. You smile and wave back, but Zoey's claws close around your waving hand. "Hey, eyes on me Bea." Gosh why all the women in your life are so demanding, and high-maintenance and damn attractive, and what does that say about you if you are really, really into that?

"It's whatever Zo, just a stupid speech anyway, nobody is gonna remember anything about it in like five minutes. Now, where did Liam say the Alpha afterparty is? A queen can never be late to her own party."

"A queen is never late, everyone else is simply early. Has all of my conditioning on you been lost already babe? That is such a poor attempt of distraction, you know me better than that." Zoey's eyes, also brown but another shade darker than Poppy's, and with much more warmth in them, meet yours. You have no idea how you look right now, but whatever it is on your face must have made Zoey soften a little.

Is it because you look like a kicked puppy at the moment, or you still look every bit the queen bee you are and Zoey is just that good at seeing right through your bullshit? Seriously, what's up with the girls around you and their ability to read you like a freaking open book.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" She asks, hand touching your shoulder, centering you steadily on the ground. The sincerity in her voice lures you in, making you let down your façade and step closer to her, wanting to curl up behind her and avoid the various puzzled-slash-scandalized looks people are throwing your way.

The only eyes you want on you at the moment are Poppy's, but in a show of cowardice that is completely uncharacteristic of you, you don't look back to see if she is glancing at you or not.

Instead, you hold your head high and grin at your best friend, your soulmate in another life to be exact, "Not really, but you are gonna do that anyway." Zoey laughs, eyes crinkling at the corner, and winks at you. "Damn right. A girl gotta use the best friend privilege when her boo needs someone to vent to. You should feel lucky I can pencil you in my busy schedule for today."

She grabs your hand and pulls you towards the way to your dorm. "Come on, only losers go to party on time. We are definitely gonna be fashionably late when I am done with you."

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The familiar sight of your dorm greets you, and you think you will miss this place. It was where most of the magic, aka plotting and scheming, happened. It was where you were hiding from the rest of Belvoire when that hog-calling video Poppy released came out or when a mob was chasing you because of X. Kind of like your own, and Zoey's also, safe haven on campus.

A place where Poppy has never tainted with her existence during your two years in Belvoire, up until yesterday that is. Your mind can almost picture the memory of last night perfectly, how Poppy took one step inside the door and immediately proceeded to be as intrusive as possible, opening drawers and insulting the decorations.

But you know, you could see it in her eyes, the curiosity shining through clouds of perfectly crafted indifference and condescension, the way she looked at everything and nothing at your dorm, the way she tried to decipher what your daily life was when it did not revolve around her.

It is endearing, you think, that Poppy can come up with offensive, creative insults right on the spot at completely random things around your room. In your mind, Poppy is very much like a cat: aggressively territorial, endlessly curious and easy to be spooked, deceptively cute but always on guard, calculating and ready to pounce.

A regal and extremely high-maintenance cat, like one of those Egyptian breeds. With the sharpest of claws and softest of fur. Light footsteps paddle on wooden floor. And tiny.

Maybe you should get a cat, just so Potato has someone to play with. You already have the perfect name in mind.

"Ok, talk." Zoey's voice cut through your daydreaming, and you find yourself sitting down on the sofa. You frown, trying to voice your dissent again, "But there is nothing to talk about? It’s what it is, I played the game, we fooled around sometimes, and that's it. Nothing really, just do what everyone expects me to do, which is the most unexpected thing people can think of. Gotta keep my subjects on their toes, right?"

You grin sheepishly at her, giving her your most confident smirk ever. "Can you imagine what kind of legend I will be remembered as here, in Belvoire, for pulling a stunt like that in front of the damn snobby heiress everyone trembles at the sight of and getting away with it? Besides, America loves a good star-crossed lovers story, people are going to talk about me for ages." No, that is not why, bitch slap me out of it Zo, please!

"Oh honey, it's cute you are already practicing your poker face for when we are famous. But you know exactly that is not what I meant." She pats your cheek, hand coming down to rest on the slope of your jaw, ever so gentle in her touch, in her fondness for you.

Here is the perfect embodiment of everything good and pure and uncomplicated in this god-forsaken hellhole, right in front of you all this time, and of course you just had to go and fall for a random snooty, pretentious, egotistical, bitchy trust-fund bully instead.

But while Zoey gives you strength, Poppy gives you life. She makes you come alive with every single touch, every single insult, every back-and-forth banter, every exchange between the two of you charged with burning fire, brighter and a thousand degrees hotter than the fake thingy they have in hell. Hades' zone can freeze over before the spark between you and Poppy dies out.

That fire forges you, and Poppy too, you made me better at being me, burns everything to the ground just so you can be reborn, over and over, like a phoenix rising from the ash, forever moving forward with resolved purpose, with scorching determination, demolishing every single obstacle that dares to step in the way to the object of your desire.

You just hope Poppy can meet you halfway, too.

"Alright, how about I do the asking and you give me your honest answers. Honest answers, Bea, I don't want you to overthink it. Can you do that?" You nod, once. "Ok, so obviously I already know about your bi-weekly sneaking around with the pink princess, neither her nor you are that subtle. She lives in a house full of girls wandering around every hour of the day, at least some of them are bound to notice at some point to be honest. But when did it become more than just physical to you?"

When did your feelings start to grow? When did your heart get tangled in the mess, without your permission? Sneaky little thing, that one.

You frown, wracking your brain for an answer, a defining moment in your life where your soul decided it would very much like to make a deal with the devil. Nothing comes to your mind, not a single thing, and Zoey is still looking at you expectantly, her eyes attentive and imploring, open and inviting, and you know you are safe here, with her.

She is like the Earth, firm and steady and never caging. Taurus, you remember her telling you.

"I don't know," was your lame-ass attempt at an answer, "It just feels like I woke up one day and realized things have changed, for me at least. And it was terrifying Zo! All I could do was freaking out and looking over my shoulder in case someone or, heaven forbids, Poppy herself caught a whiff of it. Can you imagine what she could do to me, how smug she would be if she knew how I was pathetically pining after her? She would crush me under her diamond-encrusted stilettos in a blink of an eye!"

That is not entirely the truth. It is true that you don't know when your feelings for Poppy changed. No, not changed, more... intensified, and troublesome really. But you know, you can recall it clearly as if it was just yesterday, the moment your perception of Poppy started to shift, the moment when you got a glimpse of something deep lurking under that cruel and malevolent exterior she wears around herself like a baby pink, cashmere cape.

It was the animal shelter, last year when you were forced, forced, Professor Roberta!, to partner with Poppy for the project which would attribute to most of your grades for the course. Granted, there were puppies and kittens all around, and even the most heartless person would melt into a puddle at the sight of those chubby, little cute faces. Poppy shouldn't be an exception to that universal rule. Who could be mean to children and puppies? Monsters I tell you.

But what really caught you off guard was how Poppy treated that guy, whose name completely flew past your head. You remember her smile, genuine and open and so, so radiant, like the Sun itself lives inside of her, a mile different from the default scowl on her face each time she sees you, or the icy stare which seems to be reserved solely for whenever you dare taking half a foot into the air she breathes.

You have Poppy's special smile all for yourself. And you are a selfish, greedy person, the whole Belvoire can attest to that, so you will never share your most precious, heavily-guarded treasure with anyone, not even your best friend in the world.

You remember your mom once said to you, that one can judge a person based on their interactions with other people of lower status and more unfortunate circumstances than their own. Granted, Poppy treats almost everyone around her like dirt under her shoes, so you have always pegged her as pure evil and more sinister beyond anyone you have ever met.

But here, in the most unexpected, unassuming place on earth, the difference has never been clearer for you, like crystal blue water under summer solstice burning sun. Belvoire is a battlefield for Poppy, a place where she feels compelled to assert her dominance and do everything in her power to come out on top. To fight and survive.

But this animal shelter is her comfort zone, with every nook and cranny she has been familiar with her entire life, with a friendly guy who won't judge her for showing actual human feelings for once, and with a bundle of small, helpless, in-need-of-love baby animals who have no ulterior motives for wanting to be close to her.

Everything about this scene baffled you. The stupid, sentimental part of your heart cooed and fluttered and wondered what kind of life she had had before that made her the way she is today. The more violent, aggressive part of you wanted to strangle the guy and shake out his secrets for making her smile like that, because Poppy turned and caught sight of you, the familiar sneer immediately replaced that brilliant curl of her lips. You could see the way her Ice Queen demeanor visibly shifted into place, walls up so fast it almost gave you whiplash.

No one will ever know you had a secret, hidden motive for adopting Potato.

The Sun, she is. But Icarus got burned flying too close to the Sun, so you had to tread carefully.

You feel Zoey's sigh before hearing it, full of sympathy and not an ounce of judgment. "Can't say I didn't see that coming. Kudos for being able to keep it a secret though. But seriously, why didn't you tell me, especially when you were feeling so terrified about it? Keeping those things bottled up for long is not good for you, you know?"

You shrug, the movement more sluggish than you have hoped for. "Cause it didn't seem like a big deal at the time? I am still me, Bea Hughes, the most badass queen on campus, and I'm not gonna let my stupid feelings get in the way of revenge, or justice. Does Poppy Min-Sinclair make my heart want to crawl out of my chest and throw itself down from the top of the freaking Statue of Liberty? Sure. But does that miraculously make everything she did okay? Oh hell no, not in a million years!"

You get up from the couch and start pacing, hands gesturing wildly as you rant out your frustration, "The bacchanalia, the human sacrifice, how she treated Persephone Dalton, she almost got Professor Kingsley fired for absolutely no reason other than out of despise for me! There is not even enough paper in the world, counting all living and breathing trees on the surface of this and every other earth at the moment, to list out all the crimes she has committed in just these two years at Belvoire, not to mention her previous twenty years in existence which we have no idea about. But no, no, they're still not the things that make me most infuriated with her!"

"Oh, really?" Zoey smirks, entirely too comfortable at her seat on the sofa, amusement shining through her eyes, probably waiting for you to make a fool out of yourself. "Enlighten me, then."

"The most maddening thing about her is that I know she is actually a pretty decent person. She cares about the things she holds dear, and she can be considerate if she wants to. She donates a lot of stuff for charity on a regular basis, did you know that?"

At Zoey's head shake, you smile and continue, "She claims they are out-seasoned and she cannot stand the sight of them any longer, but we both know there are much more efficient ways to do that. She keeps the gifts her cousin from overseas sent to her in a small, neat box under her bed. She has ridiculously high standards, for people around her but especially for herself, and it sometimes makes her stressed out, or lash out, depending on her mood for the day. She loves animals, Zo, especially strays! She even..."

"Alright Romeo, slow down before you choke on your own lovesickness." Your best friend interrupts you, kinda rude babe, and frowns. You don't like it when Zoey frowns, it's usually not a good sign. "I feel like I just stepped into an alternate universe where Poppy Min-Sinclair is not the She-Devil who wants to conquer the world and make people bow down to her on their knees. This influx of new, completely surprising and honestly downright terrifying, information is giving me a headache. I might need time to process this, babe. I was only with the two of you whenever you guys are about to rip each other's throat out, and clearly I'm missing out, A LOT. But..."

You see the deep frown on her eyebrows loosen, and her eyes are so soft when she asks you, "But, this is not about me. So even though it pains me to say this out loud... If Poppy is actually that nice, then what is the problem? Why are you still upset?"

"Well, I'm not completely mad at her per se. More like, at her overall situation? She is nice but still, she chooses to treat people like shit. Not that the whole bitchy, confident HBIC thing she has going on is not appealing. Believe me it was hot, like really really hot, especially when she gets all smug and starts talking down to me... Wait, can you forget that last part? Anyway, it's just... she makes me wonder, you know. Like why does she feel the need to be that terrible? And how much of it is from her own, and how much I can blame her parents and other kinds of bad influence in her life?"

You remember your conversation with Ina, shortly after that fateful day at the animal shelter, about how a person's upbringing can affect their life choices and attitude towards the world surrounding them. You remember she gently remind you, that not everyone had had the same experience with life, and thus you cannot expect each and every person to be an exact replica of yourself, or of what you think would be yourself if you were in their shoes, especially when you don't even know what kind of shoes they were. You were so tempted to make a fashion joke at that last part, but had refrained yourself from doing so.

It is the beauty of humanity, she said with a smile, that no one is a perfect copy of another. Like fallen leaves from the grandest trees during autumn, or clusters of soft clouds high up in the summer sky. It is what makes us human beings, that we are unique in everything we do.

We grew up exposed to different things, different backgrounds, different triggers; we learned about and absorbed the expectations of other people surrounding us, people with formative and conducive influence on our lives; we fumbled and stumbled in our quests for happiness, in trials for greatness, in searches to find out who we are in the world.

We will laugh and cry at different matters. We will protect and attack different things. And we will love and leave different people. Because that is the way we were taught to leave our own marks in life, and for us to be able to recognize ourselves.

Life is not a destination, you realized what she was telling you, but rather a journey. And even the most seemingly heartless person in the world has her own story, perhaps with a beginning drastically different from your own.

You want to learn more about Poppy's past, and you wish you can be a part of her future, too.

Zoey courteously allows you a few minutes of silent contemplation, eyes never leaving your form. She is searching for answers, because we both know your non-verbal language can sometimes be more expressive than the words you say out loud. You have no idea what she is trying to look for because honestly at this point even you don't know it yourself. Just where the hell is this conversation going?

"Well, information about the Sinclairs can be found... literally anywhere online. They are extremely prolific. But if you want to dig deeper than that, which is something I highly suggest you do in this case, you might need to wrangle that out of the Ice Queen herself," You groan. "Don't pout, desperate times call for desperate measures. It is you who decided you want to fall head over heels for the bitch, so you need to put in the work."

"Can't we just, I don't know, hire a PI or something?"

"Veto. Cause when, not if, when she finds out about it, she will murder you, or worse, you will lose any chance you can ever hope to have with her. Apparently I don't understand Poppy like you do, but everyone in Belvoire can tell you she does not like it when someone digs around her private stuff. So woman up, and buy some life insurance while you are at it, just for precaution." Zoey chuckles, showing completely no sympathy for your situation at all! Some best friend you are, Zo.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and throw yourself on the couch, head falling on her lap, already exhausted. She starts running her fingers through your hair, voice soothing and gentle. You will miss her when she goes on her tour around the world, somewhere in the future.

"You know you don't have to figure everything out immediately, right? There will be time for that later. Baby steps. One thing at a time. Right now you should come up with what you are gonna say to her at the afterparty. Imminent crisis first and foremost."

You sigh and close your eyes, already knowing it's not gonna go well. "Yeah, guess I should. Zo, you are, like, ninety percent of my impulse control. What am I gonna do when you are not by my side anymore?"

"Crash and burn in front of Poppy, probably." You growl and pinch her thigh. The sound of her laughter vibrates through the room, liberating and solid.

"Let's hope you'll never have to find out, then."

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A balanced act, this push-and-pull thing with Poppy is.

You are smart, you are diligent, you know how to play a game.

But this is not just a game for you anymore, so you adapt and scramble your way through uncharted water, refuse to get drowned on high ground. Trials and errors.

Your feelings give Poppy an unfair advantage, so you hold them close to your chest.

One day though, your heart whispers, one day, when this is all over. Your journey has yet to start.

But here, in Belvoire, there is nothing Poppy wants more than that coveted top spot - the Queen Bee of campus, ruler of an army made up of brainless minions and scaredy-cat professors. She only gets her eyes on the prize. That is her pride, her ambition, her infatuation.

You don't need to search any further than Chloe and Persephone, whose lives had been utterly destroyed as casualties during Poppy's merciless rise to fame, for examples of what happened to people that dared think they can touch what Poppy considers her rights by birth, to people that dared think they can stand a chance against her. There is no competition at all, for her dedication, for her interest, for her to look at you like you are the sole reason for her existence.

There is only one way to keep Poppy's attention, so you inserted yourself right in her line of fire, putting your foot down, blocking the way to the object of her obsession, keeping her eyes on you, and only you.

A queen deserves the best, so the best you must be, better than anyone that has ever walked the ground of Belvoire, better than anyone that will ever appear by her side. They are nothing, Poppy, they don't deserve your time, I am the only one you need. Chase after me, come at me, give me your everything. Show me how bright you burn, see if you can shine just as brightly as I can. This is your pride, your ambition, your infatuation.

She doesn't love you, yet, that much you know. She looks at you with such contempt on her face, such disdain in her voice, and all you could do is letting it crash and bounce off from behind your back, eyes stubbornly fixed forwards because you know that is where you and her are supposed to be. Together.

Patience, you taught yourself. Good things come to those who wait. And you have nothing but all the time in the world for her.

You laid out a trap. Keeping her interested, letting her get used to your presence, opening up to her bit by bit, chipping down her walls brick by brick. Waiting for the day she won't be opposed to the sight of you anymore, for the day she realizes you have become an indispensable part of her life, for the day she knows she can never be her best without you by her side.

In the meantime, you are content with watching and thinking about her when you allow your mind to wander. You think about the differences between you and the things that make you similar. You think about her face, and how you have never met anyone like her before, and probably never will.

Sometimes, in the darkest hour of the night, you dare think about a future with her, too.

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The party is in full swing when you and Zoey show up, two hours later. Neon lights flashing everywhere, red solo cups scattering on the floor, some top 40 hit blasting and thumping right off the walls. But you couldn't help but notice something is different, in the atmosphere of the room and the expressions on the faces of people around you.

Is it nostalgia, for a glorified and carefree past, a rite of passage? Or is it apprehension, of the uncertainty and hardship that the future will bring?

Either way, one thing hasn't changed. "QueenBee Hughes's in the house!" Ford roars at the top of his lungs, and right on cue people start screaming and cheering and tripping over themselves to get closer to you. Mindless sheep, all these immature idiots are.

Still, you have a role to play, indulge them and grace them with a few minutes of your precious time, before dismissing them with a wave of your hand, exactly how a queen would do at the end of a court session.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say to her yet?" Zoey asks from your right. You flinch, barely able to keep a whine from slipping out, and Zoey pats your shoulder. Patronizingly.

"I will deal with it when the time comes."

Your best friend laughs, taking too much pleasure in your misery. "Well, now we know in your and the She Demon's wedding who will be the one to completely forget writing her vows in advance and just blurt out whatever sickeningly sweet pretty little words come up in her mind."

You grin at that, feeling the slightest flicker of hope trickling down your nape. Of course it would be you, Poppy is very meticulous in everything that she does.

"Okay lover girl, wipe that dumb-struck stupid smile off your face already. We still have rounds to make. It will buy you some time to figure out what to say." She loops her arm around yours and pulls you deeper into the crowd.

You spend the next hour going around the house, talking and chatting with your friends. Yes, friends. You might start out thinking of them as mindless, replaceable, gullible minions, tools to be used as stepping stones for your way to the top. But, days after days, they started to grow on you, like some kinds of fungus, you note with a smile.

Each of them is unique in their own different way. You have come to appreciate Carter's unwavering support, Liam's leadership advice, Ford's goofy antics, Chloe's resilient determination, Veronica's straightforwardness, hell even Ohio's simple-minded outlook on life.

Their individual brilliance was overshadowed by Poppy's halo and stunted into silence under her iron fist. Now that is over, it is their time to shine, and you can't wait to see what each of them can do.

Zoey leaves your side at some point, wandering over to talk with some of her music theory major friends. No sooner than her leaving did you feel another presence looming over your shoulder.

"Hey." You scream, because who the hell sneaks up on people like that? "Calm down, it's me. Since when did you become such a scaredy-cat?"

You turn around and find yourself looking straight into Veronica's alluring brown eyes. Huh, maybe you have a type after all. "I'm not, you just... startled me. Is there anything I can help you with, V?"

She doesn't reply, just simply stands there and watches you for a long, uncomfortable minute. Her gaze is penetrating, and to be honest everything about Veronica has always been a little unnerving to you.

She is calm, practical, factual, and detached, like nothing can ever get under her skin, like no one can ever get into her heart. She never loses her composure, not even when you tried to blackmail her with that trashing video. Silent and smoldering, shut the hell up right now brain, nobody asks for your opinion. "I'm trying to decide."

"Decide what?"

"Whether you are even more stupid than I thought, or extremely brave. No offense."

"How can I not be offended by that?!"

"Hmm." She hums, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Why did you do it?"

To say you are confused would be an understatement. You have expected people to start asking for your ulterior motives, your thoughts on the matter, digging back into every single past interaction between you and Poppy, poking their noses around like it's their business. A bunch of vultures. Not Veronica though, you have thought she wouldn't care enough about that to even let it register inside her brain. But alas, here we are.

Wait... she is not gonna give you the shovel talk, right? You don't think Veronica and Poppy are that close to each other but one can never know with these girls. You once heard that sorority bonds are considered the most sacred form of kinship girls can have with each other at some universities before.

The truth then, just to be on the safe side.

"Because there is no reason for me to hide it anymore. We have been through so much these last couple of years and I think it's time to be true to myself, for both of our sakes. Go big or go home, right?"

Her impassive expression doesn't change, and you start looking around the room nervously, trying to find a potential witness in case a murder does happen. Where is Zoey when you need her?

But then you hear her chuckles, and your confusion grows tenfold. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

Wait what? What is happening right now? Is Veronica saying what you think she is saying?

"Relax, I'm not interested in your whatever-Poppy-is-to-you. Bitchy with an inflated ego is not my type. I'm just saying I've been in the same predicament, that's all. Anyway, good luck with that one, you are gonna need all the luck you can get." In a blink of an eye, she is already ten feet away from you across the room.

No, stop, you can't drop a bomb on me and walk away like that. This I gotta know. "Wait, was it Chloe?" You call out after her, desperately, but Veronica only pauses in her long strides to flip you the bird. Damn women and their penchant for mysteries. And damn your nosy tendency, too.

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Such a word, party, is often associated with some of the most alarming and nasty adjectives possible. It's viewed negatively as a place of sins, where college students are free, or worse, encouraged to participate in acts that are morally, and sometimes legally, questionable. Drugs, alcohol, fights, gambling, cheats, hook-ups, rapes, public humiliation. All kinds of dangerous things that parents warn their children about.

But such a word, party, brought you back to a distant memory you hold dear in your heart, one from when you were very young. A childhood dream.

Once, on a summer day when you were nine, your father said he would take you to visit your aunt the next day. That had never happened before, because it's your aunt who routinely made the trip to your house every other month, not the other way around.

When you asked your father, he said with a smile, "Because your aunt is having a party, and we think it would be fun for you to attend."

You didn't know what a party was, but you couldn't wait to find out.

You had never been out of Farmsville before, at the early age of nine. Contrary to most of Belvoire's belief, your family was not poor. Your grandfather was diligent and hardworking, he worked most of his life on the fields, saved up his money, started a trading business focused on dairy products and livestock, and was sufficiently successful. Your family had a big industrial farm back in Farmsville, with acres and acres of land spreading out in all four directions.

Thus, you came from a middle-class background, not a bottom-feeder like Poppy loves to mock you sometimes. Maybe not well-off enough to go to Belvoire without the help of your aunt, but not impoverished either.

Your parents still made you do labor work around the farm, because one needs to know hardship in order to appreciate the finer things in life.

When your grandparents passed away, your father took up taking care of the farm while your aunt left home for New York. She said that was where her ambition laid, and your father let her go, never wanting to clip his sister's wings. And she had always been there ever since, soaring higher and higher with every passing day, and the happiness in your father's eyes let you know he had made the right choice.

And so, your first ever journey to New York began. You didn't remember most of it, too young to understand what was happening around you, with many strange sights and even stranger people. New York was a whole world different from what you had been familiar with your entire life, and you could not decide if it was a good thing or not.

You remember your parents leading you to a great indoor hall, spacious and bright. This was where the party happened, your father said as he held your tiny hand in his own. Your aunt met you in the middle of the room, cooing about how cute you looked and how you were going to break a lot of hearts one day. Your parents laughed wholeheartedly, the carefree and happy sound curled up inside your heart. They looked like they belonged there, posture poised and expression relaxed.

After all, you found out from your aunt later, your father first met your mother at a party not entirely different from this one. A gala, your aunt said, and you filed the word inside your head.

Music started, and then the most magical thing happened.

Your father held out his hand toward your mother, a charming smile on his face. Your mother laughed and swatted his hand away, but he was not to be deterred, stubbornly keeping that challenging grin and out-stretched hand.

Your mother shook her head with a chuckle, placed her hand in his and stood up. Their eyes never broke contact, and they spent a moment to simply look at each other. You watched with wide, curious eyes, holding your breath for their next act. Your father caught your eyes and gave you a quick wink. Then he tugged your mother closer, placed his other hand around her waist, spun her around and started to move.

Dancing, you found out later, was what they were doing.

They glided across the room, a flurry of ferocious movements all over the floor. The intensity in their eyes, the fervor in their steps, movements so perfectly in sync it took your breath away. You could see the burning focus in your mother's eyes, and the way your father looked at her as if she was the only one in the world for him.

Together, they shined so brightly, so blazingly, so brilliantly, as if the Sun and the Moon and all the stars conspired together to pave the way for them through a sea of fire. You had never seen your parents like this before. They were always casual and laid-back in their home, comfortable in between farmwork and paperwork, on the fields and around the house.

Never did your father smile at your mother with such adoring tenderness, and never did your mother look at him with such burning passion.

You wanted to be able to do that too, dance and shine so brilliantly it makes people cannot keep their eyes off you.

"It's a special dance." Your father said when you told him exactly that, "One that can only be performed with a special partner, a person who completes and brings out that fire inside of you. But you are still too young for that, young lady!"

Your mother laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, an amused smile on her face. "Eventually, my dear. How about we start with simpler types of dance, so you can prepare yourself when that day comes. Wouldn't want your partner to be disappointed, right darling?"

You learned to follow with your father, and learned to lead with your mother, mastered all sorts of ballroom dancing. You visited your aunt in New York more frequently, taking part in more of her parties, familiarizing yourself with people of her caliber. Because you must be prepared for when that day comes.

The memory of your parents' dance engraved itself in your heart. And that was how you knew you had found the one, that destined partner who completes and brings out the fire inside of you, twelve years later.

You were nine when you first watched your parents come alive, and you were twenty-one when you understood exactly how it felt.

Your first dance together, and you already knew you never wanted to let her go.

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The clock ticks by, and you grow more restless with every second. There has not been a glimpse of that baby pink shade anywhere in the house. This is the last social event of the year, thrown by the Alphas for that matter, so Poppy must be here somewhere.

Like the telepathic soulmate she is, Zoey comes rushing right to you just when you are about to lose your goddamn mind. "Target spotted. One of my friends happened to see Poppy walking up the porch a few seconds ago. It won't be long till she's here."

Right on cue, you can feel a gaze boring into your back, into your nape, sharper than any razor blade. That familiar sense of danger spreads through your body, burning so hot like a wild tropical forest fire on the driest of summer days. It leaves you breathless, charged.

"She's here." You grit out your teeth through the fast, almost inhumane, thumping of your traitorous heart, hand reaching out to wrap around Zoey's wrist to steady yourself. "She's here, Zo."

"I don't see any... Ah, you are right."

"Does she look mad to you?"

"Poppy looks mad by default to me, but hey, that's never scared you before, right?" At your panicking face and tight grip on her wrist, Zoey stops and lowers her voice, "Babe, what's wrong? I thought this is what you wanted?"

"It is."

"Then why are you shaking like a leaf? Didn't you say you have been waiting for this day for a long time now?"

"I think it's mostly the adrenaline skyrocketing. But also... I'm kinda nervous. This is completely new territory for both of us, Zo. I have never done this before, I don't know how to act. What if she doesn't want anything to do with me, now that the competition is over and there is no need for her to give me the time of her day anymore? Or worse, she's already had her eyes on someone and comes here to gloat about how it will never gonna be me cause she won't date down or something? I have wanted this for so long and now..."

"Alright, take a deep breath first, try not to pass out in front of your crush, trust me, not a great way to score points with her. See, if you bothered trying to find a way to talk to her earlier, we could have contained this cute little freaking out of yours in the safe walls of our room, and I could tell you all the things you need to hear so you won't make a complete idiot of yourself. This is what you get for procrastination, hon."

At your most fearsome attempt of a glare, she only chuckles, "But you are the one who knows yourself, and Poppy, best. So calm down, and tell me. Do you think she is going to reject you?"

Do you think Poppy is gonna say no? You really hope not. You have done everything you can to ensure that possibility is minimized to its lowest threshold feasible. Your plan to seduce-slash-trick her into letting you in panned out just the way you intended. You know you are smart, sharp-witted, ambitious, confident. You are the only one who can keep up with Poppy, the only one who is on the same intellectual wavelength and with enough charisma to be her perfect match.

But Poppy is unpredictable, and strong-willed. She can't be forced to do anything she doesn't want to. And there are so much bad bloods between the two of you that you won't be too surprised if she decides she doesn't want you after all. Heartbreaking outcome, but not entirely incomprehensible.

"I don't know. But I hope not."

"Honestly, I still have my reservations about Poppy. But for what's worth, I think the two of you would be good for each other, especially when she can get you to smile like that." She does, Zo. She makes me feel a lot of things, so much so my soul bursts whenever I'm with her. "Go get your girl, tiger. Be smooth, and sincere."

With a deep breath, you straighten your back to your full height, giving Zoey your most confident grin, all the while willing your stomach to stop its somersaults. At least your hands have stopped shaking, so there's that.

Time to face the music.

Poppy's eyes don't leave yours as you make your way to her, the crowd of people parts away like Red Sea when they notice where you are going. Her gaze is harsh, unmoving, cold, with just the slightest undertone of threatening.

A challenge.

She doesn't look too furious at the sight of you approaching, not by her usual standard. So you take it as a good sign.

Some random group of girls surrounding her quickly scurry away, and a hush falls upon the room as you finally come within her prey-snatching distance.

She lifts her chin, slightly so she could stare up into your eyes, no doubt already trying to look down on you at any moment. The familiar tilt of her chin, and that Channel No.5 perfume, applied just enough to wrap itself around you in a comforting embrace, makes your heart ache. Badly.

"About time, you lowly peasants need to learn how to come and pay respect to your queen as soon as she benevolently graces you with her presence." Her voice is latched with venom, snarls coming out in full force. It almost makes you want to grin stupidly at her.

You keep your cool, and smirk back instead, "I always know whenever you walk in a room, Pop. You have my undivided attention. Now, may this lowly peasant have the honor of escorting the queen to a private chamber, much more suitable for your highness than this unbecoming filthy place?" Scandalized gasps can be heard throughout the crowd, but you pay them no mind.

You need to get her out of here first. Poppy is a very private person, she will never let her guard down in front of people she considers her enemies. You don't want to have this conversation with various invasive pairs of eyes staring at the back of your head like this.

Poppy scoffs, distrust visible in her eyes. But also curiosity, like the cat she is. "And why the hell would I go anywhere with the likes of you, Farmsville?"

You step closer, lower your head to speak directly into her ear, "Come and you shall find out, Poptart. Or are you too scared to be in a room alone with me?" At her indignant growl, you grin your most charming smile and step back, holding out your hand for her to take.

As predicted, she slaps away your hand like it is the most offensive thing she has ever seen in her life, before storming her way up the stairs. And you, naturally, follow her heels like the good stray you are.

You can wait, for eternity, for the day she accepts your hand.

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You lead her out to the balcony on the second floor instead of finding a room in the house because a) who knows what kind of un-sanitized things happen in those rooms and Poppy shouldn't be exposed to the myriad of bacteria no doubt already comfortably settled down there, and b) it is easier for people to hear your scream from here in case something happens. Besides, the night sky tonight is beautiful, clear of clouds and with various shining stars scattered around on a silent canvas.

Soft moonlight gently falls upon Poppy's petite form, basking her in an angelic halo that suddenly seems too bright, too blazing, too much for your poor heart to handle. And all you could do was praying for it to not explode right out of your chest. Not now, any time but now.

"What now, Farmsville? I know you are obsessed with me but this level of staring is starting to get creepy, fast. Gosh, whoever let you out of those dirty, countryside farms and into civilization must have realized they made a huge fucking mistake. Do I need to get my lawyers to file for a restraining order or something? Talk, now! Before your side-kick leads a witch-hunting mob up here claiming to get revenge for your death if you are out of her sight for more than two seconds."

Her demanding voice jolts you out of your thoughts and you promptly shake your head, "Zoey? No, she's not gonna do that. We are not always attached at the hips you know."

"Yeah, how could I forget you only like to spend your free time up close and personal with your professors? A ballsy move to compensate for your sub-par brain-functioning standards, I'll give you that."

You frown, because you thought the two of you have been over this already. "For the last time, there is nothing between Kingsley, or any other professors really, and I. She is a professor, I'm just her TA. Nothing more, nothing less. Find a way to get it sticks inside your goldfish brain for more than 5 minutes, my god!"

She doesn't look like she believes you, eyes narrowing, searching for the smallest crack on your armor to strike. But you want her to believe you, need her to believe you, desperately.

In the softest of tone, reserved for your most sacred prayers, you let out the words that have been holed up inside for too long, giving them back the freedom they seek, "Pop, don't you remember what I said? It's always been you. From the moment our eyes first met back on the squad that day, you have been the only one for me. I don't want Zoey, Ina, or anyone else. Just you, Poppy. Please."

She is watching you closely, trying to capture every trace of insincerity in your words. The wait is maddening, and you consider Zoey's earlier talk about not passing out from nervousness. If Poppy doesn't start speaking soon, somebody is gonna have to call an ambulance here to pick up your light-weighted ass.

You took the first step, now the ball is firmly in her court. A frightening thought, this loss of control is.

Then, the most bizarre thing happens. Poppy laughs, the sound bitter and resentful, harsh lines on her beautiful face twist up into the most vicious expression. No, this is not right, was it something you said? Why does it seem like you have hurt her with your words?

"Want me? Bold of you to assume I would fall for this sad excuse of a lie. What's it this time, huh? Money, title, sex, my last bit of dignity? What's it that you are trying to steal from me this time? Your greed truly knows no bounds, doesn't it?" She places a hand on your chest and shoves, hard.

"No, I..." She looks so furious, eyes blazing like magna, leaving a trail of burnt everywhere they turn to. You have never seen her this angry before, not even when you snagged that Apoidea spot from her hand.

Too close to the Sun, and be burned.

"Stop. Just fucking stop talking. You already had your chance to spew stupid words out of your mouth, so now is my turn."

"Ever since I met you, EVER since I met you, you have been doing nothing but destroying everything important to me. The ranking system, my inner circle, my image, even my fucking family. Do you have any idea what kind of pressure I was under? From both my parents and other people around me? Have you ever stopped, just for one second, to consider how your actions would impact my life? Of course not, right? Everything is just a giant game for you. A small-town country girl taking up New York by storm, all the while never having any idea about the big picture, doing what she selfishly wants under the pretense of goodwill. All you ever care about is yourself!"

You want to scream out, but you also did a lot of horrible things, to me and your friends too, have you ever thought about how we would feel? But you know she is right. You are a terrible person, you are just as guilty as her.

You asked for her past and her future, but never stopped to consider how they would look like, and how deeply they have imprinted on her.

"I had a plan, a long-term life plan. And you ruined it. But I did not intend to how a grudge, you know? Because we both played the game, and I can respect a good player. No hard feelings. No strings attached. But then of course you just have to go and screw things up again. Do you even hear what you are saying right now? You ruined my life, and now you say you have feelings for me? The audacity, the nerves! What do you expect my answer would be? The first time we slept together, you used that chance to sneak around my room and take screenshots of my messages. Is that your way of saying you want me?"

You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying your best to hold back the tears at the corners of your eyes. You wonder is it too late to jump over the railing and die. A better fate than facing whatever this thing between the two of you is about to unfold.

"And the worst thing is, despite everything you did, I can't seem to get you out of my fucking head." Wait a second. "You are everywhere I see, Farmsville. In the Zeta house, in classes, at the freaking shopping mall, it's like your stupid grinning face is haunting me, day and night. And I get anxious when a day passes without me seeing your face somewhere. You were not a part of my plan! I don't want this useless, dumbass feeling, never wanted it, never needed it. Just what in the world have you done to me, Hughes?"

"What is it that you want from me now? Cause I don't think I have anything left to give you anymore."

You, I want you. Your heart, your soul. I want everything you are willing to give me. And then more. So much more.

There is no doubt you are going to hell to atone for all your sins, your selfishness, your greediness. But still you dare take a step closer to her.

"You have feelings for me, too?" Another prayer.

She looks weary, tired and burnt out, so achingly beautiful underneath the open sky. Free and unrestrained. And not yours. But still you want.

"Doesn't matter. We're not gonna work. I'm not going to trust you with my heart."

You are close, so close to her. You reach one hand out and slowly put it on her waist, testing the water. Easy to be spooked. She growls but doesn't move away from your grasp, brown eyes not leaving yours.

Fortune favors the bold, or so you tell yourself as your other hand comes up on the other side of her waist, gently gently enclose Poppy in your embrace.

A few minutes pass in silence, both of you taking the time to regain your breath. She is tense in your arms, at first, but slowly starts to relax once you pick up rubbing small circles on her lower back. You are both wearing flats today, so her face can tuck neatly right under the crook of your neck. You are content like this, but there are still things that need to be said.

"Hey." With just one simple world, Poppy is back to being tense. You keep drawing circles on her back, waiting for her to settle in your arms again. "I know we have a lot of problems between us. We have done things that hurt each other, and maybe what I did hurt you more than what you did to me. I know sorry's not good enough. I know I'm selfish, and probably don't deserve any minute of your time. But I want to ask anyway. Can you give me another chance, to earn your forgiveness? I promise I won't screw up this time."

She is silent, mulling over your words. You have been waiting for her for so long, you can be still for another few minutes.

There is something important about this moment, as if years later you could wake up one day and draw it perfectly from figments of memory alone. Please. You tighten your arms, counting the beats of your heart as it chases to match her own, knowing painfully well this could be the very last time you ever get to hold her like this.

“All I ask for is time, Pop. Give me time to prove myself. And give yourself time to get used to the idea of us. Can you do that?”

It will hurt, having to let go of the light you only just learned to touch and not merely dreamt about holding onto.

"Again, and you're dead, understood?" The words are so quiet, so unlike herself, but you can hear them perfectly, devouring each and every syllable of her voice, hiding them in the deepest place in your heart. You grin and nod enthusiastically, before placing a tender kiss on her forehead.

Poppy immediately pushes you away at that, eyes flashing angrily as she barks out, "What the hell do you think you are doing, Farmsville? Do NOT get your sloppy saliva all over me. God you are such a stray, a badly behaved one at that. Anyway, we have been here for too long already. This party sucks. Hurry up you imbecile, you’re walking me back to my place!"

The stupid grin stays on your face as you trot along her into the house, feeling something settles down snugly in your chest.

It’s not everything you have hoped for, but it’s a start.

One day though, your heart whispers, one day, when the stars align again. Your journey has just begun.