Lovely Sad

“No fucking way.”

Poppy let out a loud laugh as she carried the final few plates into the kitchen from the dining room where her and John had just had dinner. John was hot on her heels as he followed her into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of the plaid button up shirt he wore. His voice was stern as he spoke, but Poppy could still hear the smile in his tone and knew that signature crooked grin was on his face without even having to glance over her shoulder.

“Why not?” Poppy asked innocently, placing the plates onto the countertop by the sink. Once her hands were free, she turned around to face John. Leaning her body weight against the counter behind her, she let her lips turn up into a Cheshire cat grin that mirrored the one on John’s own face.

“Daisy is dead.” He stated, reaching behind Poppy to turn on the faucet. “In the grave forever.” He added for emphasis.

“That’s not fair.” She whined, “You can’t tell me about a song you wrote and then just deny me the right to ever hear it.”

John’s laugh was loud and genuine as Poppy stepped out of his way at the sink. “Trust me, Pops. I’m doing you a favour.”

He wasn’t sure if it was because the song in question was so old and the band’s sound had grown and evolved so much since then that he didn’t want to show it to Poppy, or if it was because he didn’t want to play her a song written for another girl. She deserved to be serenaded with genuine words of praise that were written for her and only her, not a girl John had written up for creative purposes when he was 17. It was a song fans loved, but the band refused to play live in concert. As he reached for the bottle of dish soap placed conveniently by the sink faucet, John couldn’t help but let his mind wander to how fans would react to the words he would one day write for Poppy.

Rushing home from work, Poppy had spent far too long fussing over preparing dinner for John that night. Although, she lied about it when John questioned how long she had slaved over the stove to prepare this meal for him when he arrived to find nearly everything completed. He had offered to help, but she continually declined, insisting it was a simple recipe. She had managed to pull the meal off without a hitch, and John seemed to love it. She was trying really hard to keep it casual and stick to the mantra she had decided on last night, but John couldn’t keep his hands off of her and it was making it increasingly difficult.

He had to have just been overcompensating for the fact that he was leaving for vacation and abandoning Poppy. If he was all over her and sweet talked her all night she couldn’t be mad at him for leaving. Either Poppy was being played or she was overreacting.

Simultaneously, as Poppy warned herself to keep calm and casual, John was mentally cursing himself for agreeing to this California trip. He just wanted to spend as much time with Poppy as possible, and he had promised her he would be there for her as much as possible. But when his brother called him up about a trip to LA to visit old friends who had been nagging John forever to come out and visit, he knew it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. He contemplated inviting Poppy to tag along, but he knew she would never take the time off of work. It would also be a pretty overwhelming invitation to extend, as she would be thrusted directly into John’s world and forced into introductions and spending extended periods of time with his friends and family. Crashing on the couches of fellow struggling musicians and sleeping in tents in Northern California campsites hardly seemed like the glamorous atmosphere he pictured Poppy in whenever she spoke of vacations she had taken. He was just so desperate for her to like him, but he was too scared to let her in and see his world.

He’d never play her Daisy. She’d hate it. She was too cool for it.

In fact, he didn’t know if he’d ever play her any of his music. His skin crawled with anxiety just thinking about Poppy listening to and judging the words he had written.

“What are you doing?” Poppy asked, interrupting the downward spiral John’s thoughts were just about to take. She reached for the bottle of dish soap that was in his hands, gently shoving him away from the sink.

“I’m cleaning up?” He responded slowly, staring with wide eyes at Poppy as if this were the most obvious answer in the world. His long arms easily grabbed the bottle out of her hands as he began to gently drop dishes into the soapy water.

When she reached to grab the bottle out of his hands, he easily lifted it up and held it above his 6 foot frame. “But you’re a guest!” She argued, making a laughable attempt to reach the soap.

He laughed as he gently swatted her hands away. “You cooked,” He said, placing the bottle back by the sink to free his hands, “and I’ll clean.” He placed a gentle kiss on Poppy’s cheek before hoisting her up and placing her on the countertop next to the sink. He pulled away from the kiss and returned to beginning the dishes so suddenly, it took Poppy a moment to process it all. He had insisted on helping clean up when Poppy was initially setting the table for dinner, but she had just assumed he was joking.

Poppy couldn’t think of a time Adrian had ever even touched a dirty dish, so watching John take a sponge and wipe clean one of the plates they had used was a foreign sight. She needed to stop comparing the two, though. John and Adrian were different people. It wasn’t Adrian’s fault he never did dishes, he had grown up with a nanny and a maid to ensure the house was always spotless and Poppy had stepped up into that role when they lived together. She had never asked him to help out around the house, so she couldn’t be bitter over his lack of help. But she didn’t even have to mention anything and John had stepped up to help out. She imagined John growing up in a modest household, his mom insisting him and his brothers had chores to complete around the house.

Poppy wasn’t going to get anywhere constantly comparing and contrasting John and Adrian in her head. She reached for a dish towel that she always kept folded neatly by the sink just as John began to rinse the soap suds off of the first dish. She couldn’t help but notice the sides of John’s mouth curl up into the smallest of smiles as she took the dish from his hand and began to dry it from where she was seated on the counter next to the sink. If she kept her hands moving and stayed busy, maybe she could rid her mind of all of these thoughts.

These moments of normalcy in a relationship were what John loved. His life could get pretty hectic, living out of a suitcase for months at a time. Any sort of routine was hard to come by when most days he was waking up in a different city. Rarely actually waking, though, as he always struggled to sleep on tour buses. He would lay awake, a mess of nerves and anxiety, scribbling lyrics into worn out notebooks until it seemed an acceptable hour to roll out of his bunk and pour a cup of coffee. He would never give up music, and the feeling of being on stage, or the conversations with fans he got to have meant the entire world to him, but sometimes John wondered what it would be like to wake up in the same place every day and get to enjoy that cup of coffee with someone. Coming home after a long tour to wash dishes with Poppy seemed like the breath of fresh air he didn’t know he had been craving for so long. He couldn’t help but think of whether or not this comfortable silence they were both settled under right now was a glimpse into what the future held for the pair.

“I like this.” Poppy commented as John handed her another dish to dry.

He smiled over at her as he watched her wipe the dish down with the towel. “I like you.” He said, resting his hands on the edge of the sink, momentarily forgetting about the rest of the dishes soaking in the soapy water.

Once Poppy had placed the dish in her hand onto the counter next to her with the other clean dishes that needed to be put away, John leaned over to kiss her. It was short and sweet, and Poppy wanted more. She dropped the towel that was in her hands blindly onto the counter beside her and grabbed onto the collar of his plaid shirt, pulling him over towards her until he was standing between her legs. He leaned down to kiss her again, moving his lips against hers slowly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands made their way to her hips, pulling her to the edge of the counter so her body was pressed up against his own. Poppy felt his grip on her hips tighten as their kisses became more urgent and heated, despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to play it cool.

As quickly as it began, the kiss came to an end as John pulled away rather abruptly. He rested his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Poppy, I really like you.” John sighed, his eyes closed as Poppy slowly unwrapped her arms from around his neck. His words hung in the air as she brought her hands to rest on his chest just below his shirt collar.

“I like you too, John.” She whispered against his lips before kissing him again. He pulled away rather quickly once again, letting out a shaky breath as he took a step backwards. “Is everything okay?” Poppy asked, her heart practically in her throat as she waited for his answer.

He rested his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of Poppy as he shook his head no. Poppy could have sworn she felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach as she watched him shake his head. This is why she should have played it cool and kept it casual. She had gotten too ahead of herself and now she was about to get burned. She blinked hard a couple times, desperate to prevent her eyes from beginning to well up with the tears she knew were going to come soon.

“We’re going on tour soon, Poppy,” John spoke slowly, unsure of how he wanted to vocalize what he was thinking.

“I know that.” She did. They had been open and honest from day one about the fact that the band was going to come first. She knew the latest tour was beginning at the end of March, and as an unsigned band touring and travelling to promote their music was crucial to the band’s success.

“In a couple weeks we’re taking off for two months.”

“I thought we already agreed that work and music was going to come first?”

“We did,” John nodded, dropping his hands from the counter and standing up straight. “But when we said that I didn’t know I’d end up liking you so fucking much.”

Poppy wanted to smile, but the way John sighed as he ran his hands roughly over his face killed any joy his words might have caused. She needed to backtrack. It was obvious John was freaking out, and she needed to think of some way to calm him down. “This has been moving pretty fast, huh?” She asked quietly.

John nodded in agreement, unsure of what else to do. John’s cool and collected persona was unravelling right before Poppy’s eyes, a perfect representation of the nervous wreck Poppy herself had been over the past few days.

“Can I be honest, John?”

“Always, Poppy.” He stepped forwards once more, wrapping his arms around Poppy as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I like you a lot,” She began, letting her arms snake around John’s waist. “and I know this started abruptly and we’ve been moving so fast, but I just don’t think I’m ready to be anyone’s girlfriend right now.” Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Poppy knew they weren’t true. But it seemed like the best option at the moment. A little white lie to hold the pair over until Adrian was gone and John was done with touring. It would hopefully calm him down about leaving and maybe they could revisit this conversation when he was back. It didn’t really sit right with Poppy, but if she gave herself enough time surely she could convince herself this was the right thing to be doing.

She expected John to flinch or pull back from their intertwined position, but he just nodded his head. “I know,” He finally spoke after an extended pause. “I’m not here to rush you or force you into anything.”

Poppy kissed his neck lightly from where her head rested on his shoulder as John let out another long breath.

“I guess what I’m worried about…” Poppy lifted her head from his shoulders to meet John’s gaze as he spoke slowly. He paused for a second before shaking his head once more. “No, what I’m asking is if you’re still going to be here when I get back. I know it’s unfair of me to just be leaving you, and I understand that I’m asking a lot so you can say no. But I just have to ask because I really want you to be here.”

“Yes.” Poppy mumbled before meeting John’s lips in one more kiss. “I’m going to be here, John.”