Page 60 of Prime Time Romance

We said good night hours ago.

And if it were Josh here, I wouldn’t feel this panic in my stomach, this clenching in my chest that makes my heart beat so fast that I feel like there’s a strong possibility that I am about to have a heart attack.

“Who’s there?” I whisper.

No one answers. Not that I really expected them to. My hand reaches for the bedside light, but just as my fingers find the chain, a hand clamps down on my mouth.

I scream.

The sound is muffled.

But I also yank on the light chain hard, and the room fills with soft yellow light.

My attacker is all in black. With a balaclava over their head. But there is a lock of hair peeking out of the eyehole. It’s an unmistakable shade of red, and I know exactly who is hovering above me.

I rip the hand from my mouth.

“Poppy?”

She laughs and pulls the mask off her head.

“You should have seen your face a moment ago. Classic.”

“What are you doing here?”

She stands back up, folding her arms across her chest. “Get dressed. I need your help.”

I blink a few times just to be sure that she is real and that this isn’t some bizarro dream. But Poppy is very much Poppy as she heads for my closet and pulls it open.

I watch as she sifts through the racks of clothing and pulls out a pair of black cargo pants and a black long-sleeved bodysuit that I’m pretty sure was from the Halloween episode where both Sloan and Poppy dressed like sexy cats.

“This will have to do, I guess.” She tosses the clothing onto the bed. “Hurry up. We need to get up there before the sun comes up and I have to be back at town hall by noon.”

I reach for the clothes and pull them on, still completely in the dark about what it is we’re doing.

When I get downstairs, Poppy is holding open the back door with her foot. She taps her toe as I pull on Sloan’s one and only pair of non-heeled shoes. As I stand, she presses a black ski cap into my hands.

“You can wait until we get there to put this on.”

I tuck it into my back pocket. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Poppy smiles wickedly. “This is a DFA.”

A DFA was Poppy and Sloan’s code phrase for I need you, but don’t ask what for. I had always assumed the F between don’t and ask stood for fucking. Now that I’m here, I’m not so sure. Either way, DFA was a phrase that could be uttered during dire times of need. Sloan used it once when she needed Poppy’s help to steal the biology midterm from Mr. Nguyen’s classroom when she had to work double shifts all weekend to bail her estranged delinquent half brother out of jail. Poppy used it when she needed help stealing the mascot costume from Carson’s Cove’s rival football team—a bold move that ultimately secured her spot as cheer captain junior year.

It was a blood pact.

You don’t ask questions and you show up.

I’m still not fully awake as I get into her silver BMW. Poppy offers no further clues on where we’re going or what we’re doing as we drive along the dark and twisty back roads away from town. At least a full fifteen minutes of driving pass before we turn down a dirt road and a small farm comes into view. As she pulls the car behind a large bush at the very end of the driveway, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“I need you to be my lookout.” Poppy puts the car into park and cuts the engine. “I figure I have at least thirty minutes.”

Even in the dark, I can tell that this place wasn’t a set on the show. Yet, despite its unfamiliarity, I get a sneaking suspicion that I know where we are.

“Whose farm is this?”

Poppy seems unfazed by my question. “Luce’s, obviously.”