Poppy’s living room was, quite honestly, in a shambles. With Diego spending more and more time over at Henry’s since his recent incident on stage, Poppy had the place to herself all day today, meaning she’d decided to do something she knew Diego would deeply disapprove of; She’d invited Noah around to hang out.
And, in their defense, that’s exactly what they had been doing – hanging out. As painfully obvious as her crush on him was, there’d been nothing untoward about their afternoon together. While some of their more explicit flirting happened over text, or even via instagram comments and playful banter in groupchats, it had never amounted to much more than a naughty phonecall here or a bold selfie there. In person, the harmless banter always prevailed, neither of the two of them ever crossing the line into something more, instead nursing a blossoming friendship that seemed to hint at the want of something more, but never quite moved over into that territory.
Now, the two of them were sprawled out on the carpet, Poppy and Diego’s shared record collection scattered around the room as the two of them had taken it in turns to dig out a different collection of songs to act as the soundtrack to their afternoon. Noah had laughed uncontrollably when Poppy had taken Rick Astley’s Never Gonna Give You Up out for a spin, insisting that the disc belonged to Diego, erupting into a fit of giggles as the other boy had wrestled her to the ground, tickling her sides and calling her a little shit.
Breathless, Poppy rolled onto her side and reached out her hand, giving Noah a playful shove against his shoulder, her tongue poking out between her teeth in the process. The two had spent hours talking and getting to know one another better, with Noah asking her an array of questions about her parents, Diego’s siblings, and even wanting to know about the history of the band. In turn, Poppy had asked Noah all about Nebraska, eager to hear all about his mom, and having the courtesy to change the subject when she’d seen the furrow in his brow when she’d asked how he’d learned to play the guitar in the first place.
With every high came a couple of lows, but Poppy was basking in the glow of Noah’s smile, a warmth spreading through her chest every time she unlocked some new tidbit of information about the boy she’d grown so attached to. The mystery of Noah Calloway was slowly unravelling before her, and she couldn’t be happier. The knowledge that Noah seemed to actually want to spend time with her and get to know her outside of their silly flirtations was a welcome one, so rare was it that men ever embraced every side of Poppy Martin. She wasn’t sure there was much that could ruin her mood today.
“Okay, I promise not to prank you with Rick Astley again,” she told him as solemnly as she could manage, using her forefinger to draw a cross over her heart.
With a light nudge of her foot against his, she then used that finger to form a beckoning motion, silently asking him to shuffle closer to her. As nice as the music had been, she found she was enjoying the newfound silence, wanting to embrace the quiet so she could focus instead on Noah instead; The rise and fall of his chest, breath coming out slow and steady; The fun, tender quirks of his accent, shifting and changing depending on the tone that he was using. Noah Calloway was comprised of a vast array of sounds, and the young singer was beginning to learn that all of them were her favorite.
“Be honest. What’s your favorite part about being on tour with us?”
