I watched in fascination. I watched as the conductor expertly guided the musicians through their rehearsal: the solos, the decorative passages, the intricate harmonies.
Rune held me close, as I sat, mesmerized. Occasionally, I felt his eyes on me: him watching me, me watching them.
But I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Especially from the cello section. When the deep tones rang clear and true, I let my eyes drift to a close.
It was beautiful.
I could picture myself, so clearly, sitting amongst fellow musicians, my friends, staring into this theater, full of the people I knew and loved. Rune sitting, watching with his camera around his neck.
It was the most perfect of dreams.
It had been my biggest dream for as long as I could remember.
The conductor called for the musicians to quiet. I watched the stage. I watched as all but the principal cellist lowered their instruments. The woman, who looked to be in her thirties, pulled her chair to center stage. No audience bar us.
She positioned herself, her bow poised on the string, to start. She concentrated on the conductor. As he raised his baton, instructing her to begin, I heard the first note play. And as I did, I became completely still. I didn’t dare breathe. I didn’t want to hear anything but the most perfect melody ever in existence.
The sound of “The Swan” from Carnival of the Animals drifted up to our seats. I watched the cellist become lost in the music, her facial expressions betraying her emotions with each new note.
I wanted to be her.
In that moment, I wanted to be the cellist playing this piece so perfectly. I wanted to be gifted that trust, the trust of giving this performance.
Everything faded away as I watched her. Then I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and let the music take hold of my senses. I let it take me on its journey. As the tempo picked up, the vibrato echoing beautifully off the theater’s walls, I opened my eyes.
And the tears came.
The tears came, as the music demanded.
Rune’s hand tightened in mine and I felt his gaze on me. I could sense he was worried that I was upset. But I wasn’t upset. I was soaring. Heart-soaring in the blissful melody.
My cheeks grew wet, but I let the tears flow. This was why music was my passion. From wood and string and bow, this magical melody could be created, stirring life into a soul.
And I stayed that way. I stayed that way until the last note drifted to the ceiling. The cellist raised her bow. Only then did she open her eyes, guiding her spirit to its resting place inside her. Because that’s what she was feeling, I knew. The music had transported her to a distant place, somewhere only she knew. It had moved her.
For a time, the music had graced her with its power.
The conductor nodded and the orchestra walked backstage, leaving silence to occupy the now-empty stage.
But I didn’t turn my head. Not until Rune sat forward, with a hand placed gently upon my back. “Poppymin?” he whispered, his voice guarded and unsure. “I’m sorry,” he said under his breath, “I thought this would make you happ—”
I faced him, clasping both his hands between mine. “No,” I said, interrupting his apology. “No,” I reiterated. “These are tears of joy, Rune. Absolute joy.”
He exhaled, releasing one of his hands to wipe at my cheeks. I laughed, my voice echoing around us. I cleared my throat, chasing away an excess of emotion, and explained, “That’s my favorite piece, Rune. ‘The Swan’”, from the Carnival of the Animals. The principal cellist, she just played my favorite piece. Beautifully. Perfectly.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s the piece I was planning to play when I auditioned for Julliard. It’s always been the piece I pictured myself playing at Carnegie Hall. I know it inside out. I know every note, every shift in tempo, every crescendo … everything.” I sniffed and wiped my eyes. “Hearing it tonight,” I said, squeezing his hand, “sitting next to you … it was a dream come true.”
Rune, too lost for words, placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I felt his kiss on my head. “Promise, Rune,” I said. “Promise me that when you’re in New York, when you’re studying at Tisch, you’ll go and see the New York Philharmonic play. Promise me you’ll watch the principal cellist play this piece. And promise me that when you do, you’ll think of me. Imagine me playing up on that stage, fulfilling my dream.” I breathed deeply, content with that picture. “Because that would be enough for me now,” I explained. “Simply knowing that I’d at least get to live out that dream, even if it is only in your mind’s eye.”
“Poppy,” Rune said, painfully. “Please, baby…” My heart leapt as he called me ‘baby’. It sounded as perfect as the music to my ears.
Raising my head, I lifted his chin with my finger and insisted, “Promise me, Rune.”
He turned his gaze away from me. “Poppy, if you’re not going to be in New York with me, why the hell would I ever go?”
“Because of your photography. Because like this dream was mine, yours was to study photography at NYU.”
Concern cut through me when Rune’s jaw clenched. “Rune?” I questioned. After a long moment, he turned slowly back to face me. I searched his beautiful face. I slumped back in my seat at what I saw in his expression.
Refusal.
“Why don’t you take pictures anymore, Rune?” I asked. Rune looked away. “Please, don’t ignore me.”
Rune sighed in defeat. “Because without you, I didn’t see the world the same way anymore. Nothing was the same. I know we were only young, but without you, nothing made sense. I was angry. I was drowning. So I gave up my passion because the passion within me had died out.”
Out of anything he could have done or said, this saddened me most of all. Because the passion had been so strong within him. And his pictures, even at fifteen, were like nothing I’d ever seen.
I stared at Rune’s hard features, his eyes lost in a trance as he stared blankly at the empty stage. His wall was back up and the tension in his jaw was back. The sullen expression had returned.
Needing to leave him be, not to push him too far, I leaned my head back against his shoulder and smiled. I smiled, still hearing that piece drift into my ears.
“Thank you,” I whispered, as the lights on the stage faded.
Lifting my head, I waited for Rune to look at me. Eventually he did.
“Only you could have known that this—” I gestured to the auditorium—“would mean so much to me. Only my Rune.”
Rune pressed a soft kiss on my cheek.
“It was you at my recital the other night, wasn’t it?”
Rune sighed, then eventually nodded his head. “I was never going to miss you play, Poppymin. I never will.”
He got to his feet. He was silent as he held out his hand. He was silent as I gave him my hand and he led us to the car. He was silent as we journeyed home. I thought I must have hurt him somehow. I worried that I had done something wrong.
When we arrived home, Rune left the car and walked around the hood to open my door. I took his proffered hand as I jumped down. I kept tight hold as Rune walked me back to my house. I expected to go to the door. Instead, he led me to my window. I frowned when I saw the frustrated look on his face.
Needing to know what was wrong, I ran my hand down his face. But as my finger landed on his cheek, something in him seemed to snap. He backed me against the side of my house. His body pressed against mine and he cupped my face with his hands.
I was breathless—breathless at his closeness. Breathless at the intensity in his dark expression. His blue eyes searched every part of my face. “I wanted to do this right,” he said. “I wanted to take this slow. This date. Us. Tonight.” He shook his head, his forehead creasing as he fought whatever he was battling inside. “But I can’t. I won’t.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but his thumb drifted to graze my bottom lip, his attention on my mouth. “You’re my Poppy. Poppymin. You know me. Only you know me.” Taking my
hand, he laid it over his heart. “You know me, even under this anger, you know me.” He sighed, edging so close that we shared the same air. “And I know you.” Rune paled. “And if we only have limited time, I’m not going to waste it. You’re mine. I’m yours. To hell with anything else.”
My heart fluttered like an arpeggio in my chest. “Rune,” was all I managed to say. I wanted to shout that yes, I was his. That he was mine. Nothing else mattered. But my voice failed me. I was too overcome with emotion.
“Say it, Poppymin,” he demanded. “Just say yes.”
Rune took a final step, trapping me, his body flush with my own, his heart beating in tandem with mine. I dragged in a breath. Rune’s lips brushed against mine, hovering, waiting, primed to possess them completely.
As I looked into Rune’s eyes, his black pupils all but eliminating the blue, I let go and whispered, “Yes.”
Warm lips suddenly crashed to mine, Rune’s familiar mouth taking them with single-minded determination. His warmth and minty taste drowned out my senses. His hard chest kept me pinned to the wall, trapped, as he owned me with his kiss. Rune was showing me to whom I belonged. He was giving me no other choice but to submit to him, to give myself back to him after withdrawing for too many years.
Rune’s hands threaded through my hair, keeping me in place. I moaned as his tongue pushed through to meet mine—soft, hot and desperate. Lifting my hands up his wide back, they landed in his hair. Rune growled into my mouth, kissing me deeper, taking me further and further from any fear or trepidation I harbored at his return. He kissed me until there was no part of me that didn’t know who it belonged to. He kissed me until my heart again fused with his—two halves of one whole.
My body began to weaken under his touch. Feeling me completely surrender to him, Rune’s kiss slowed to soft, gentle caresses. Then he broke away, our breathing heavy, an arc of tension above us. Rune’s swollen lips kissed my cheeks, my jaw and my neck. When he finally withdrew, his quick breaths blew against my face. His hands slackened their grip on me.
And he waited.
He waited, watching me with his intense gaze.
Then my lips parted, and I whispered, “Kiss three hundred and fifty-seven. Against the wall of my house … when Rune took possession of my heart.” Rune stilled, his hands tensed, and I finished with, “And my heart almost burst.”
Then it came. Rune’s pure smile. It was bright, it was wide and it was true.
My heart soared at the sight.
“Poppymin,” he whispered.
Gripping his shirt, I whispered back, “My Rune.”
Rune’s eyes closed as I spoke those words, a soft sigh falling from his mouth. His hands gradually loosened their grip on my hair and he took a reluctant step back. “I’d better go in,” I whispered.
“Ja,” he answered back. But he didn’t look away. Instead he pressed against me again, taking my mouth quickly and softly, before pulling back. Then he stepped back several spaces, putting a good distance between us.
I lifted my fingers to my lips and said, “If you keep kissing me like this, I’ll fill my jar in no time at all.”
Rune turned away to walk to his house, but stopped to glance over his shoulder. “That’s the idea, baby. One thousand kisses from me.”
Rune rushed back to his house, leaving me to watch him go, leaving me with a dizzying lightness flowing through me like a rapid. When my feet finally moved, I walked into my house and straight to my room.
I pulled out the jar from under my bed and wiped off the dust. Opening the jar, I took the pen from my nightstand and wrote down tonight’s kiss.
An hour later I was lying in bed, when I heard the window opening. Sitting up, I saw my curtain be pushed aside. My heart leapt into my mouth when Rune stepped in.
I smiled as he walked forward, shucking off his shirt and throwing it on the floor. My eyes widened when I drank in the sight of his bare chest. Then my heart almost exploded when he raked his hand through his hair, pushing it from his face.
Rune walked slowly to my bed, standing to wait by its side. Shuffling back, I lifted the cover and Rune climbed in, immediately wrapping his arms around my waist.
As my back nestled perfectly against his front, I sighed in contentment. I closed my eyes. Rune pressed a kiss just below my ear and whispered, “Sleep, baby. I got you.”
And he did.
He had me.
Just like I had him.
Rune
I woke to Poppy staring up at me.
“Hey,” said Poppy. She smiled and nuzzled further into my chest. I let my hands wander through her hair, before tucking my hands under her arms, pulling her up until she lay above me, her mouth opposite mine.
“Morning,” I replied, then pressed my lips against hers.
Poppy sighed into my mouth as her lips parted and worked against my own. When I pulled back, she glanced out the window and said, “We missed the sunrise.”
I nodded. But when she looked back at me, her expression didn’t show any sadness. Instead she kissed my cheek, and admitted, “I think I’d trade all the sunrises if it meant I got to wake up like this, with you.”
My chest concaved at those words. Taking her by surprise, I flipped her on her back, hovering over where she lay. Poppy giggled as I trapped her hands on the pillow above her head.
I scowled. Poppy tried—unsuccessfully—to stop her laughter.
Her cheeks were pink with excitement. Needing to kiss her more than breathe, I did.
I released Poppy’s hands and she grasped my hair. Her laugh began to fade as the kiss grew deeper, and then there was a loud knock on the door. We froze, our lips still joined and our eyes wide open.
“Poppy! Time to get up, sweetheart!” Poppy’s daddy’s voice drifted into the room. I could feel Poppy’s heart racing, echoing through my chest, flush against hers.
Poppy shifted her head to the side, breaking the kiss. “I’m awake!” she shouted back. We didn’t dare move until we heard her daddy walking away from the door.
Poppy’s eyes were huge when she faced me again. “Oh my God!” she whispered, bursting into a fresh set of giggles.
Shaking my head, I rolled to the side of the bed, grabbing my shirt off the floor. As I pulled the black material over my head, Poppy’s hands landed on my shoulders from behind. She sighed. “We slept too late this morning. We almost got caught.”
“It won’t happen again,” I said, not wanting her to have any excuse to end this. I had to be with her at night. I had to. Nothing happened—we kissed, we slept.
That was enough for me.
Poppy nodded in agreement, but when her chin rested on my shoulder, her arms wrapping around my waist, she said, “I liked it.”
She laughed again and I turned my head slightly, catching the bright look on her face. She nodded playfully. Poppy sat back and took my hand and pressed it over her heart. It was beating fast. “It made me feel alive.”
Laughing at her, I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
Standing up, I slid on my boots. Poppy sat back on her bed. “You know, I’ve never done anything naughty or bad before, Rune. I’m a good girl, I suppose.”
I frowned at the thought of corrupting her. But Poppy leaned forward, and said, “It was fun.” I pushed my hair back from my face and leaned down over the bed and gave her one last kiss, soft and sweet.
“Rune Kristiansen, maybe I’ll like this bad-boy side to you after all. You’re sure gonna make the next few months entertaining.” She sighed dramatically. “Sweet kisses and trouble-making antics … I’m in!”
As I made my way to the window, I heard Poppy move behind me. Just as I went to sneak out of her window, I glanced back. Poppy was filling out two blank hearts from her jar. I allowed myself to watch her. Watch as she smiled at whatever she was writing.
She was so beautiful.
As she placed the completed hearts back in her jar, she turned and stopped. She’d caught me watching. Her gaze softened. She ope
ned her mouth to say something, when the knob on her door began to turn. Her eyes widened and she flicked her hands in a shooing motion.
As I jumped from the window and ran from the house, I heard her laughter following behind. Only something that pure could chase away the darkness in my heart.
I had barely made it back through my window before I had to jump in the shower for school. The steam billowed around the bathroom as I stood under the hot spray.
I leaned forward, the powerful jets pelting water onto my head. My hands rested against the slick tiles in front of me. Every day when I woke, anger consumed me. It was so consuming that I could almost taste its bitterness on my tongue, feel the heat of it coursing through my veins.
But this morning was different.
It was Poppy.
Lifting my head from the water, I switched it off and grabbed my towel. I slipped on my jeans and opened the bathroom door. My pappa was standing in the doorway of my room. When he heard me behind him, he turned to face me.
“Morning, Rune,” he greeted. I pushed past him to walk to my closet. I grabbed a white t-shirt and pulled it over my head. When I reached for my boots, I noticed my pappa was still standing in the doorway.
Stopping mid-motion, I met his eyes and snapped, “What?”
He edged into the room, holding a coffee in his hand. “How was your date with Poppy last night?”
I didn’t respond. I hadn’t told him anything about it, which meant my mamma had. I wouldn’t answer him. The prick didn’t deserve to know.
He cleared his throat. “Rune, after you left last night, Mr. Litchfield came over to see us.”
And then it came back, rushing through me like a torrent. The anger. I remembered Mr. Litchfield’s face as he opened the door last night. As we drove away out of the street. He was pissed. I could see he hadn’t wanted Poppy to come with me. Hell, he’d looked like he was one second away from forbidding her to go.
But when Poppy walked outside, I could see that he wouldn’t say no to whatever she wanted. How could he? He was losing his daughter. It was the only thing that stopped me from saying exactly what I thought of his objection to her being with me.