Poise {Indigo/Poppy}

They say, “stay in your lane boy, lane boy”
But we go where we want to

Following the psychological challenge, Indigo had been left with a lot to think about. Some people had had a lot to say, others only a few words. Some people had gone for the throat, and a few had tried to mince words gracefully. He had only belatedly realized that his attempt for impartial and clinical reviews had put him firmly in the first category.

Sure, he hadn’t been petty and listed reasons that had no bearing on the competition; he’d tried to be honest about their chances at running the business, but as people had continued to talk, he’d wondered if he’d made a mistake.

Until Amrin’s turn had come. He had to thank her for that, that her advice seemed to be working out just swell for him. For herself, not so much. While he had received the most praise for his intelligence, (one third of his fellow interns nominating him for the win was nothing to sneeze at) Amrin had been given the most negative reviews.

It surprised him because he considered her to be the one of the few interns that was close to being his intellectual equal and yet she had a very different effect on people. It had also surprised him that Coralie had chosen him as the winner as well; he’d been certain that choosing Poppy would land him directly on her shitlist, but instead she had seemed almost playful?

What the hell had that wink been about? If anything, he had to assume that she had now found something else to needle Poppy about. Why else would she comment something about needing to teach him good taste? It was an enigma that warranted further study when he had the time. Perhaps he needed to consider bringing Coralie a peace offering to see what she was thinking.

Money would probably be the best thing.

But that thought flitted away as he had glanced at Whitney. For a brief moment earlier, he’d thought that Whitney had a look on her face like she’d just watched him kick a puppy and he saw that same look twist her features again when Adam went the petty route and insulted Poppy. But he hadn’t insulted her, had he?

Sure, he'd been blunt and honest about his opinions in front of everyone but -

Ah.

Yeah.

Whitney defended Poppy and did it much friendlier. Perhaps professional detachment hadn’t been the way to go? He wasn’t teaching in a lecture hall just yet. When Harvey spoke up, he raised his eyebrows. He’d nearly forgotten that the other boy was there. He was the type to keep his head down, and come to think of it, nobody had mentioned him at all, for good or for ill. He was dead center in the pack.

Perhaps a dark horse?

Poppy was the final one to speak, as he expected she would be. Over the months she had shown herself to be one who always got the last word. She cut Whitney down, and it is clear that it was a move meant to wound, and judging from the look that crossed the other girls face, it struck deep. 

A moment later, her smoky gaze drifted around the room as she said his name, calling him smart and bold and implying he was a step above the rest. Well, he had come in first in practically every challenge, this one included. She wasn't wrong, and that was the simple truth.

Their work done, Malcolm dismissed them and they began to drift away. Indigo tucked the cookbook under his arm and readied himself to leave when he noticed that Poppy was staring at him. And beckoning for him to follow with the crook of her finger.

Intriguing.

It was probably a bad idea, but he followed her all the way to the sun room and then wished that he hadn’t. Mortified was the right word, he thought as she picked up a pair of his monogrammed boxers off a bush and twirled it on her finger by the elastic waistband. He was blushing, he could feel it.

“Ah. Aheh, heh.” He said, forcing a chuckle out. “I was wondering where those had got to. Oh that Adam and his…pranks.” Indigo tried not to click his teeth together. He needed to change the subject. Immediately. Anything so he wasn’t focused on the redhead holding his underwear with a mischievous smile.

“Adam,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Petty insults about your aesthetic. Odd. Though I suppose anyone can have layers. Even the drug dealer I used to get my weed from.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully with his pointer finger, looking at the ground while he mused about his roommate.

After a moment, the words that had just danced off of his tongue came waltzing back into his mind. “I’m sorry, did I say that last bit out loud?” he asked, suddenly concerned that he’d made another social blunder. He kept his gaze fixed on her eyes, because if he looked at the underwear in her hand again, he was going to turn redder than he already was.

They think this thing is a highway, highway,
But will they be alive tomorrow?