When We Fall

by Madeleine Labitan

Avery and I exchange a look. I shake my head subtly.

  He doesn’t have to know about what happened with Liam. At least not right now, anyway. I can tell him another day. Because I feel like I've already reached my limit on discussing the subject. Honestly, I just want to pretend for a little while that it didn't happen. That last night had been nothing but a bad dream.

  Reality can smack me in the face tomorrow.

  She frowns a little, but thankfully complies.

  I force a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Swallowing a spoonful of rice laden with kare-kare, I tell him, “It tastes great, Dad. You’re really getting so good at it.”

  He beams at me, looking happy to hear the compliment.

  Mom would be so proud of him.

  A familiar ache settles in my chest as the memory of Mom busying herself in the kitchen flashes through my mind. I loved watching her cook as a kid, marveling at her meal preparations, eager to provide assistance whenever needed. "My little assistant," that's what she always called me, pinching my cheek with a warm smile on her beautiful face.

  God, I miss her every day.

  Dad adjusts his black rimmed glasses. “So, what do you girls want to do today?” He addresses Avery. “You won’t be heading out until tonight, right?”

  Avery arches a brow. “What, you’re not going to spend the day holed up in your writing cave?”

  He smiles. “I can take a day off.”

  I exchange another look with Avery.

  Dad is taking a day off from writing? Well, that's new. He spends almost every single day writing—even when he's in the kitchen cooking meals or in the living room watching TV. I don’t know how he does it sometimes.

  But he's really good at it—writing, that is. He's a worldwide bestselling author of over a dozen young adult fantasy books. In fact, half of the student population in Holy Oaks Prep—as well as the teachers—are fans of his works.

  And I can honestly say that I am, too. Every time he publishes a book, I'm always quick to download it on my Kindle and read it. Not to be biased or anything, but my dad is a truly awesome writer.

  “We can binge-watch Breaking Bad again. We haven’t done that in months.” It's Dad’s favorite show, which eventually grew on me and Avery, too.

  “I’ll pop the popcorn,” Avery volunteers.

  Dad looks between us then smiles. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We converge in the living room an hour later, and while Dad flicks through Netflix to find the show, I turn my phone back on. Unsurprisingly, I have a ton of unread messages. I even have a few voicemails—all the ones from Liam, I delete without listening. What did he even have to say? That it had been a mistake and he was drunk? I don’t want to listen to his lies.

  Meanwhile, Brayden and Quinn’s voicemails are laced with worry and concern. I almost laugh when I listen to Quinn threatening to call the police if I didn’t answer. Seeing that no one turned up on the front door, she failed to follow through with that threat.

  After reading my friends’ frantic messages and listening to their voicemails, I text them both to assure them that I'm doing fine and that we’ll talk tomorrow at school. I need this whole day to myself.

  I don’t even bother opening up my social media accounts, ignoring the notifications flooding my phone. I already know what they are about, and I don’t want to deal with them right now.

  Tomorrow. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sawyer

  Hushed whispers and stares follow me as I walk down the school halls come Monday morning. But I ignore them, keeping my head down until I reach my locker.

  It's not that I'm ashamed about what happened. I didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one they cheated on, not the other way around. I just want to go through the day without any drama. God knows I already had enough of that this weekend.

  But unfortunately for me, this is high school and everyone thrives on drama. They feed on your misery, uncaring that all you've ever wanted is to be left alone.

  “Shoo! Mind your own business,” Quinn’s sharp voice sounds behind me before she comes into view, leaning against the locker next to mine, looking preppy in her white and blue cheer uniform. “Hey, S. How are you doing?”

  I force a smile. “I’m fine.”

  A frown of concern wrinkles her forehead. “Are you sure?”

  “Really, I’m fine.” Fishing out my books, I close my locker. “Come on, we’ll be late to class.”

  “I’m going to kill that girl,” she sighs, falling into step next to me.

  I choke out a laugh. “No, you won’t.”

  “Just say the word.” She winks. “I know someone.”

  I know what Quinn is doing. She's trying to cheer me up. To make me forget about the gravity of what happened even for a little while. And I appreciate her efforts. Really, I do.

  But I wish it's that easy. I wish I could make myself forget. But every time I close my eyes, I see them together in that bed, and they're laughing at me, mocking my ignorance about the whole thing.

  As if my thoughts made her materialize, I see Peyton standing in front of her locker, causing my steps to slow.

  Quinn grips my arm. “Keep walking.”

  But it's too late. I've already stopped.

  Something like regret crosses her features when our eyes meet, but it's gone before I can dwell on it. Her expression hardens as she lifts her chin up, walking away as if she didn't do anything wrong. As if she didn't betray me.

  “Unbelievable,” Quinn exclaims. “Did she look remorseful to you? Because she didn’t look the least bit remorseful to me.”

  I open my mouth to answer, but hurried whispers at my back draw my attention, making me look over my shoulder.

  Parker.

  Everyone is staring after him as he stalks through the hall. He doesn't pay them any mind, but I can tell that he's pissed. There's a deep scowl on his face. He doesn't want this drama any more than I do.

  Before I know it, my feet are already moving toward him.

  "Sawyer, where are you going?" Quinn calls after me.

  “I’ll see you later," I shoot back without glancing over my shoulder. I put myself in front of Parker when I reach him, forcing him to stop.

  Towering over my five-five frame, he frowns down at me. "What do you want, Peaches?"

  "Still calling me that, I see." Awkwardly, I clear my throat when he simply stares. "I just want to say thank you for taking me home and, um, carrying me up to my room when you could've just left me in a ditch somewhere."

  His frown deepens. "I'm not an asshole."

  My eyes flare wide. "That's not what I mean."

  He sighs. "Move."

  "Um, excuse me?"

  "You're in my way," he says, impatience lacing his tone.

  "Oh, right." A flush rises in my cheeks as I step aside, watching him walk away. And here I thought we were already friends. Guess not.

  Quinn appears in front of me, giving a perplexed look. "What on freaking earth was that about?"

  "I was just asking him about something," I lie, leading the way to our first period, AP Government.

  Liam and Peyton are both in there so, yeah, torture. As much as I don't want to see them, I don't have a choice. Unless I ditch that class—but that's not happening.

  I always sit beside Liam, but after what he did, there's no way I'm going anywhere near him. Which means I need to find a new seat.

  Peyton has apparently solved that problem for me. When we reach the class, she's already in my seat and appears to be in an intense conversation with Liam.

  My heart gives a painful twist at the sight of them together, and I avert my eyes so I won't burst into tears and humiliate myself. Having them see me at my lowest point is the last thing I want to happen.

  "Oh, look. It's the cheaters," Quinn sneers in an intentionally loud voice.

  They both raise their heads at that. Liam's eyes find mine, and I watch his face pale then morph into guilt.

 
For a moment, his expression tells me he wants to approach me. But it's gone in an instant, and he doesn't even attempt to move from his seat.

  I pull my eyes away, making a show of glancing around to find myself an empty seat.

  "The one next to Parker is empty since the cheating slut just vacated it," Quinn tells me, and again, not bothering to lower her voice.

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing, especially when Peyton shoots her a glare. I glance over to the seat next to Parker. Should I take it? We're not exactly friends. He made himself clear about that just five minutes ago. I don't think he'll be happy to have me there. But then, do I really have a choice?

  "Okay. I'll take it."

  "Are you going to be okay?" Quinn asks just as one of her fellow cheerleaders, calls for her.

  "Yeah," I nod. "Go sit with your squad." Then reluctantly, I approach the seat next to Parker who quietly watches me. "Hey."

  He nods.

  Progress, I guess.

  Everyone keeps glancing between the four of us—Peyton, Liam, Parker and me—even as the class starts. They probably think that Parker and I are together now. Maybe they're assuming that I've officially switched boyfriends with Peyton.

  Suddenly, I feel nauseous. It feels like the walls are closing in around me. I need to get out of here. I need to stay away from them as far as possible. Which is why I'm one of the first to leave the moment the class ends.

  "You looked so pale back there, S. I thought you were going to pass out," Quinn tells me, frowning with worry, when we meet at our lunch table hours later.

  "To be honest, I thought so, too," I admit.

  Brayden gives me a sympathetic look. "Did Peyton try to reach out? To at least explain herself?"

  I shake my head, remembering the hard look on her face. "She didn't even look apologetic."

  "What about Liam?"

  Liam at least looked guilty. For a brief second in that class, I assumed he was going to approach me. But the moment simply passed, like he thought better of it. It was as if he already accepted the fact that we were over, and he didn't feel the need to fix things between us anymore. Why didn't I notice that? He'd been clearly feeling that way for a long time.

  "He didn't try at all." I stare at my lasagna plate, my chest tight, the hunger no longer there.

  "Seriously, screw them," Quinn grits out, shooting daggers at the cheer squad table, where Peyton is sitting. "They're both shitty people and they deserve each other."

  Brayden shifts on the bench, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

  "What is it?" I ask.

  "She tried to talk to me."

  Of course, she reached out to him. While Quinn is closer to me, Brayden has always been closer to Peyton—who I grew up with. She and I were childhood friends. Not necessarily the best of friends, but we were pretty close. Then Quinn and I hit it off freshman year while Peyton became friends with Brayden. Soon after, the four of us started hanging out together, turning into a tight unit over time.

  Now, Peyton had fractured that unit. She broke my relationship. Is she planning to do the same with our friends? Does she hate me that much?

  "And you entertained her?" Quinn accuses Brayden. "You know what she did to Sawyer."

  He glares at her. "I didn't have a choice, okay? She ambushed me. It wasn't like I actively sought her out."

  I hold up a hand to keep Quinn from retorting. "What did she say?"

  Brayden shrugs. "She just asked if I wanted to hang out and talk."

  Quinn refuses to be stopped this time. "She had the gall to talk to you, but not to Sawyer?" she hisses. "I can't even with that bitch."

  I blink at her. While I appreciate that Quinn is showing support for me, I can't help wondering if she secretly hates Peyton. They had their fair share of disagreements in the past—their personalities always clash—but didn't seem to be serious.

  Before I can quiz her about it though, my eyes dart across the cafeteria, landing on Liam as if consciously searching for him.

  He just walked into the room, his steps slowing as his gaze finds the table where his friends are seated. Bennett, Giovanni and Jamie all give him cold looks—while Parker doesn't even bother glancing his way—causing his shoulders to slump. Looking defeated, he goes to join his football teammates instead.

  My heart squeezes in my chest at seeing Liam like that. Even after what he did, I still manage to feel sorry for him.

  "Serves him right," Quinn scoffs, apparently watching the scene as well. "He totally deserves their hostility." She pauses. "Do you think Parker will kick his ass after school? I'll make sure to watch."

  "I doubt it," Brayden says. "Their friends would be there to stop it."

  "What friends? They won't even let him sit at their table. He's no longer a part of the Hot Boys Club. God, I can't wait for his popularity to hit rock bottom."

  I doubt that will ever happen. Liam is the star quarterback and the team captain. And now he's dating Peyton, a cheerleader. Regardless of how their relationship started, they're still very much a perfect match to everyone's eyes.

  Then they'll see me as someone who tried her hand at being popular but ultimately failed. That would be devastating if I cared at all about social hierarchy. But I'd rather stay on the sidelines, away from the drama.

  Now, if only that's easy.

  *******

  When the last period bell rings, I step out of Math class and weave my way to the girls' bathroom, ignoring the different sets of eyes boring into me.

  I can't wait for the next hot gossip to hit the school. It's only been a day, but these pitying looks and mocking stares are already getting old. Why can't they just direct all their attention to Liam and Peyton? They're the only ones at fault, not me. I'm just unfortunate to be caught in the drama.

  Walking into the bathroom, I go rigid when my eyes find Peyton's in the mirror.

  Everyone inside stops what they're doing to stare at us.

  The feeling of being closed in by walls sets in once again, and it's all I can do not to turn back and run away from here. To put some space between us. To not be around her if I can help it. But why should I? I didn't do anything wrong. There's no reason for me to hide or avoid anyone.

  Plus, I really need to relieve my bladder.

  Breaking eye contact, I enter one of the stalls, silently hoping she's already gone when I step out.

  No such luck, though. She's still in front of the mirror, reapplying makeup and fluffing her short brown hair. Is she going on a date with Liam?

  My chest tightens, pain shooting through me at the thought, but I brush it off, not wanting her to see the emotion showing on my face. I can't give her any ammunition to use against me. She's done enough damage.

  Putting my poker face on, I approach the vanity and park myself next to Carson, so she can serve as a "buffer" between us.

  Tossing her dark red hair over her shoulder, Carson raises an eyebrow at me, silently telling me that she knows what I'm doing.

  I give her a faint smile before turning to the mirror, running a hand down my uniform.

  It consists of a white polo shirt underneath a blue V-neck sweater bearing the school's crest, and a black plaid skirt that stops above the knees. Students are allowed to pair uniforms with different shoes and colors as long as they're closed-toe, so my feet are enclosed in a pair of black low ankle boots today.

  Since my hair is already swept up in a neat ponytail, and I just reapplied makeup an hour ago, I don't bother with touch-ups. I simply wash my hands. The quicker I get done anyway, the faster I can get out of here.

  "He always wanted me."

  Gasps ring out in shock just as my back stiffens. So much for thinking I'd be able to get out fast. Regaining my composure, I snap my head to Peyton.

  Carson looks just as taken aback, but she quickly recovers. "Everyone out," she orders.

  When the head cheerleader issues a command, everybody follows, until there's no one left other than the three of us.

 
"You're welcome," she tells us just before stepping out of the bathroom herself.

  But I can't muster gratitude right now. Her words just dawned on me. "What did you just say?"

  Peyton lifts her chin, smug. "I said, Liam always wanted me. I'm the one he wanted from the start. Not you." She punctuates that by looking me over from head to toe, as if to tell me she doesn't think I'm pretty enough to be wanted by my ex-boyfriend.

  I may not be as gorgeous as Peyton—who's easily one of the most beautiful girls in school—but I'm happy with the way I look. I'm confident in my own skin, and I'll never let anyone make me feel inferior, least of all her.

  But something tells me she's not talking about my physical appearance at all. It's deeper than that. In fact, I sense bitterness and resentment coming off of her. But why? Between the two of us, after what she did to me, I should be the one feeling that way.

  "Why are you acting like a total bitch right now?" I snap back at her. "Shouldn't you be asking for my forgiveness?"

  "Why should I? You took Liam from me."

  I gape at her. "What are you talking about? When was he ever yours? Parker was your boyfriend. You've always had him, not Liam."

  "That's what you think. Parker never wanted me. Not really." Her gaze turns colder, harder. Like it's my fault that her ex-boyfriend feels that way.

  But it doesn't make sense. I have nothing to do with however Parker feels toward her. It's between the two of them. And she said I took Liam from her? Where did that come from?

  Seriously, is there even a point to this conversation? She's acting like she has every right to confront me.

  Growing angry and frustrated by the minute, I ball my fists at my sides. "He was my boyfriend, Peyton. And you were my best friend. How could you—"

  "He was mine first," she interrupts. "But I'd been stupid and let him go."

  "What the hell are you talking about?!" I'm already shouting but I don't care.

  Peyton isn't giving me the answers I need. She's talking in circles, refusing to get to the point. It's making my blood boil. Making me think of punching her square in the face. Making me think of doing things that would land me in jail.