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For the rest of our first day, we didn't do much. We went around the hotel, checked out the pool and the dining hall together, and then we went our separate ways because that was about as much of each other as we could handle in a day. 

Once I was on my own, I killed some time in my room, setting my toiletries and things up, and then I grabbed my purse, the hotel room keys, and my phone before leaving to explore the neighborhood. I spent some time hopping from one café to another in the area and then bought a few little souvenirs from one shop nearby. 

I was back at the hotel before dinner time and I was just setting all my things down when my doorbell rang. I paused and hesitated before going to get the door. 

I wonder who it could be. Oh, look. It's my lovely co-worker, Joshua Nilsen. 

"What's up, Josh?" I asked, leaning against the door. 

"Did you go out?" he asked, pocketing his phone. 

I nodded. "I bought a few souvenirs, fridge magnets, and whatnot. Did you?" 

He nodded back. "Dinner's open in the hall downstairs. I'm going. Do you want to come?" 

"You're asking me? Wow," I teased, taking the keycard out of the holder. 

"Never mind." He snatched it, leaning in to put it back in the holder. "Go on your own after me." 

I stared at him and then shrugged. "Sure. I'll see you tomorrow morning then." 

"Unfortunately for me, yes you will," he replied before walking away. 

I rolled my eyes and shut the door, deciding to go for dinner a bit later. When I went to have dinner later, I ran into Jamieson there so I had dinner with him before we retired to our rooms, planning to meet tomorrow in the lobby by nine in the morning and have breakfast here before leaving for the New Orleans Museum of Art. 

After going back to my room, getting into a pair of pajamas, and freshening up for bed, I climbed under the covers and grabbed my phone. I had to call Dad and it wasn't too late here or there yet either, so I dialed his number, holding the phone to my ear and waiting for him to answer. 

He didn't answer the first time, so I called again and this time he did. "Hey, Dad," I said, releasing a soft breath. 

I hated that it was always stressful speaking to him. After losing Mom, he changed so much for the worse. It's the worst thing that's ever happened to all of us, Dad, Jack, and me. And I understood that he took it harder than we did, of course, he did, she was his wife. But instead of catching himself or even trying to, he completely let himself collapse and with Jack being so little when it happened, my biggest fear at six years old became losing both my parents and watching my family fall apart. 

"Hey, Poppy. How've you been?" he asked me with a sigh. 

"Good, good. Sorry I haven't called lately. I've been a bit busy." 

"I figured. You hardly call anymore, so I guess work really does keep you busy. And where are you this time?" 

"New Orleans," I answered, "but hey, the trip is a little shorter than usual this time so I've been thinking of visiting you later this month. That's okay, right?" 

"Um, yeah. Sure. Jack's still at college though, he won't be here." 

I paused in confusion. "I know that. I wanted to come visit you, Dad. Jack came to New York a few months ago, remember? I met him then." 

He cleared his throat. "Well then um," he sighed again, "yeah, sure. Drop by some time." 

Drop by? 

"Okay well um, Jack said you wanted to talk to me since we haven't spoken in a while, so tell me, what's going on? How's everything back home?" 

"Everything is good, Poppy. Listen, I haven't eaten yet, so I'm cooking right now, let me call you sometime later, all right?" 

I nodded to myself before rolling my eyes and shaking my head. 

He never speaks to me properly unless Jack's around. It only makes me think he blames me for what happened. 

"Bye, Dad." 

"Bye, Poppy." 

And with that, he hung up and I plugged the phone on charge and turned the lamp off, lying down and huffing, pulling the covers up to my chin. My last thought before I fell asleep was: 

I miss you, Mom. 

With a groan, I woke the next morning when someone incessantly continued ringing my doorbell. 

If that's Josh, I swear to God. 

"After all the shit he gave me for banging on his door," I mumbled, tripping out of bed while rubbing my eyes. I answered the door, my arm hitting the wall as I struggled to maintain my balance. "What? What? What is it?" I huffed, running a hand through my hair and pushing it back. 

He nodded, looking me up and down. "See, I figured you were still asleep. It's eight-thirty, we're supposed to be downstairs in thirty minutes and you're just now waking up... not even that," he mumbled. "Get dressed, we have to go, come on." 

I hummed, watching him through squinted eyes. I cleared my throat, "Yeah, you're going to have to repeat that, my senses aren't awake yet." 

He barged past me and into the room while I shut the door and then walked back in, falling onto the bed and slipping under the covers. 

Mornings and I just didn't go hand-in-hand. We hated each other. Just how Josh and I did.

I felt clothes landing on my face before the covers were ripped off me. I whined, kicking my legs around as he grabbed my arm, pulling me to sit up. 

"Awake," he demanded. "Now." 

I forced my eyes open while grabbing the dress he threw at me. 

He watched me from where he stood while I glared up at him. "Did Owen have to wake you up like this?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest. 

"Sometimes," I mumbled, "but you wake me up before my alarm even rings!" I complained, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him only for him to catch it with one hand and toss it in front of me. On cue, my alarm rang on my nightstand. I stood up, my eyes finally coming into focus as I glowered at him. "See," I spat before pushing past him and going into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. 

I brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and put on some cream and sunscreen before changing into the dress. I looked at the dress he chose once I slipped it on. 

Not bad, Nilsen. 

Or it might have just been because I packed according to what I planned to wear on which day. 

It was a white sundress that had little blue flowers printed around it, not too many but still in a pattern, and a small string right at the top of my ribcage with a bow that made my waist look smaller. The two thin straps sitting at my shoulders held the dress up and with the dress, I brushed my hair and pulled it up into a high ponytail before spraying perfume on. 

By the time I finished getting ready and went back out into the room, Josh, unlike what I expected, was still sitting on the bed, waiting for me. While grabbing my purse and phone, he stood up and continued to wait. 

Weird. 

As I slipped my shoes on, I glanced at him. 

Was I just too snappy because I had just woken up? Or is he guilt-tripping me by not acting like a dick? Ugh, now I feel like I was snappy.

"Sorry," I mumbled half-heartedly while tying my laces. 

"What was that?" he asked, amusement lingering in his words. 

"I said sorry," I repeated a bit louder this time, "if I was a bit snappy. But I don't like being woken up." 

He hummed as I grabbed the keycard, tucking it into my purse. "But you also don't wake up unless you're woken up." 

"Yeah," I admitted. "Let's go." 

He followed me out and we walked down the hall and to the elevator, stepping inside. "Now, just remember, Ms. Valentine, since we're going to the museum to look at art today," he said, his stupid teasing tone already there, "and that's your idea, the next place tomorrow will be my choice. So don't whine about it." 

I laughed humorlessly. "Please, how could I forget? It's your kayak tour." 

"I don't see any difference between how snappy you are when you're half asleep and completely awake. You're still just as annoying and as much of a bitch," he replied. 

"What can I say, Nilsen? You bring out the worst in me," I replied. "And I don't care how much you disagree, watching art is much better than a kayak tour. I mean, what even is that?" 

"A kayak tour," he deadpanned. 

I eyed him as we got out of the elevator. "You don't look like someone who would enjoy kayaking." 

"Really? Well, what does someone who would enjoy kayaking look like?" 

"Not like you. A bit more... I don't know, just not like you," I shook my head. "Not as hands—" I cut myself short and we both stopped walking abruptly, my eyes widening. 

"Excuse me?" he asked. 

"Not as young," I corrected. "I just meant that you seem younger. Usually, it's people a little older than us who enjoy kayaking. Let's keep walking." I barely made it two steps further before he grabbed my hand and tugged me back. I stumbled into him and quickly pulled away as soon as our bodies touched. "Yes?" I took in a breath, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. 

"Tell me you just almost told me I'm handsome." 

"No," I answered quickly. Almost too quickly. 

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Noted," he responded before walking past me, his arm brushing against mine. 

I groaned, slapping my mouth gently. 

What is wrong with me today?

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