A Few Hundred Poppies

4. Drowning

"Why are you hugging the tree, midget?" West appeared out of nowhere, a perplexed annoyance printed on his features. By the willows behind the greenhouse, the wind was sweet as it blew over the small lake, cooled itself and caressed my cheeks, puffed and red from wrestling with the willow tree that would've told me to fuck off by now if it could speak.

"I'm. Trying. To climb the damn tree! Aagh!" I shrieked as I fell flat on my rear with a loud thud, making the two finches who'd been tilting their heads and watching my endeavours with interest fly off the branch in alarm. The two-feet fall left me sprawled tiredly on the ground, and I pressed my hands together in a futile attempt to soothe my palms coarse from tugging on the bark. "Why're you here? I thought you hated my face as much as I hate yours," I hissed through gritted teeth, clambering up from the grass. I noticed that West's hair was much messier than yesterday, making him look rakishly hot.

Double standards, Ms. Inner Voice chimed, but I decided to ignore her for now.

"Don't you think you give yourself too much credit? I truly don't give a fuck about your face or whatever." West brought up the back of his hand in front of his mouth as if he was trying to hide a smirk. "By the way, people like to kiss under trees, not trees themselves. Fetish or something?"

Deciding that I had better things to care about than a douche (but hot guy) judging me, I shrugged. "You know, West, I really don't like you. At all. And I'm sure you'd be horny enough to make out with willows, but, uh, I'm not. I just happened to see this tree, and I was like, heck, I'll just climb it."

"Wow. So - this is what happens when a shithead has too much time on her hands," he deadpanned, voice dripping with disdain as he leaned against the willow and shoved a hand into the pocket of his dark green trousers.

"Ah, yes. I do take pleasure in being extraordinary," feigning a British accent, I dramatically flipped the black curls fallen loose from my messy bun as a coverup for my embarrassment. "I still don't know why you're here."

He rolled his eyes, swung his bag onto the grass and shoved one foot onto the trunk. In the blink of an eye, he was 7 feet over the ground with a few swift movements, legs dangling from both sides of the branch I had desperately been trying to reach.

The jealousy on my face must've been apparent, because reaching out a hand to me, he tried to hide a smirk. I noted that he did that often. "I'm here to make amends."

Quirking an eyebrow, I huffed, "Like I'd trust you."

"Fine, whatever. How's the weather down there, midget?" A small, lopsided smile formed on his face as he punched the tree trunk lightly with his fist, making me curse him through gritted teeth. I ignored the tips of my ears heating up at how disarmingly stunning his smile was, and, swinging my bag over my shoulder, made to leave.

Making me pause, West called out to me with a loud 'wait'. When I looked back, he was hanging from the branch by arms, the tense muscles beneath his shirt contracting. He let go, landing on the ground with a soft thump. "Look, we kinda got off on the wrong foot earlier. Let's start over?" He extended a hand, making me eye him with suspicion.

"Um, apologise first," I treaded, beaming inside - because let's face it, I'd forgive that beautiful face the moment he asked.

"Only if you promise to forgive me," he waved his extended hand before thrusting it towards me again, gesturing me to take it. Rolling my eyes, I gingerly slipped my palm in his. Only to realise that it was a fucking mistake.