“Thank god!” Poppy couldn’t help but say when she realized she had at least a little bit of privacy. Then, realizing the connotations and implications, quickly added, “Not that I’m doing anything _emphasized text_inappropriate or anything. I mean, I am a teenager, but I don’t really participate in _that_ kind of activity, like, at all. Not that I’m a loser who can’t get a boyfriend! But, uh, um – _shit_.”

Poppy slumped forward and her eyebrows furrowed broodingly. The air felt thick with awkwardness, but that could be just how Poppy perceived things. This was the problem with the blonde – she was a walking blob of humiliation. So, Poppy had two options – stay or flee. And, well, fleeing looked like a really great option at the moment. It helped that her stomach was grumbling at the moment.

“Uh, so, um, I’m go’nna go get some grub.” The blonde hummed, standing up so quickly that the chair fell backwards and thudded loudly to the floor. Heat rose to her cheeks and she scrambled to lift up the chair, setting it gingerly back on its legs. Then, as if a polite courtesy rather than a genuine invitation, Poppy said, “You guys can come with if you want to.”

Without waiting for a reply, she darted from the room, not caring if they followed or not, and towards the East cafeteria. She arrived rather fast and approached the food – it seemed pizza was on the menu today – and proceeded to put two slices on a plate. Next to her, a brunette piled pizza after pizza onto her plate.

“Think you have enough?” Poppy weakly joked and, then, cringed. “Not that you’re fat or anything – or ugly. No, you-you’re pretty and, wow, what a nice figure. Not that I’m hitting on you or nothing! I swear I'm not a perv!”

For the many-eth time that day, Poppy’s face resembled the flower for which she was named.