Angela Hobbs—Lyla's friend and one of the dancing girls—approaches Jamie and sits on his lap, plucking his cigarette and taking a couple hits before going back to dancing, but not without giving him a seductive look over her shoulder.
"If that's the case…" Giovanni hands me a bottle of Corona.
Reluctantly, I take it from him, my eyes meeting Parker's as memories of that night at the beach flood me. My cheeks heat and, I swear, a small smile curves his lips.
Since the only empty seat is beside him, I hesitantly sit on it. "Um, hey."
"Make sure you're not getting drunk tonight, Peaches. I'm not going to carry you to your room again."
My mouth falls open. I can't believe he just said that. "Are you serious? It only happened one time."
He doesn't look convinced.
I scowl at him. "I'm telling the truth."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. Your face said it all."
He just shrugs and takes a pull of his Corona.
Why is this guy so infuriating? And why haven't I noticed before? Then again, before Carson's party, the only interactions I had with him were limited. I usually hung out with him when Liam or Peyton was present. I guess I never really knew him.
Parker sighs. "Is there dirt on my face?"
"No." I glower. "But there's an asshole in it."
"Holy shit," Bennett howls, sitting up to throw his head back in laughter.
"Fuck." Giovanni almost spits his drink.
Jamie exhales a plume of smoke and points his cigarette at me. "I think I'm in love with you, Pretty Girl."
Parker glares at his friends, his jaw ticking, then turns to me with narrowed eyes.
I just shrug. It's the truth.
"Um, Parker?" It's one of the girls, peering down the railings.
"What?" he replies in a clipped tone, his eyes still on mine.
His gaze feels like it's searing through me, but I make sure to keep a neutral expression.
"Peyton's here."
That has all of us whipping our heads to the railings.
Bennett is the first to move there. "What the fuck is she doing here?"
Like a unit, the guys stalk out the door, with Parker in the lead. Judging from the stormy expression on his face, Peyton is in for an intense confrontation. What was she thinking crashing Parker's party, anyway?
I don't want to miss it, so I quickly follow the guys. And sure enough, when I get there, the guys are in a standoff with Peyton. Well, Parker is in a standoff with her. Jamie, Bennett and Giovanni are at his back, showing their support. While everyone gathers around them, preferring to watch the spectacle than continue partying. Even the music has stopped.
"Girl, you've got some nerve coming here," Bennett whistles.
"Fucking shameless," Jamie tsks, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the plume of smoke in her direction.
Ignoring them, Peyton curls her lips into a smirk. "Come on, Parker. Why are you mad at me? I actually did you a favor. We both know you never really wanted me." Her eyes flicker to mine for a brief second before moving back to her ex. "Right?"
My eyebrows draw together.
Why is she looking at me like that? And why is she always talking cryptically?
"You're not welcome here," Parker tells her in a chillingly arctic voice, ignoring her words instead of responding to them.
She lets out a humorless laugh. "Was I ever?"
"Leave."
"Fine," she spits. "This is a boring party, anyway." Then hisses at the people gawking at her before finally storming out.
"I'll make sure our unwelcome guest stays gone," Giovanni says, following after her.
I blink. That was kind of anti-climactic.
Since the spectacle left, the crowd quickly disperses and the music comes back up.
Bennett takes that as a cue to move toward a group of girls, snagging the waist of the nearest one to him, making her giggle.
"You okay?" Jamie asks Parker quietly.
Parker stalks off instead of answering, and the strong urge to follow him almost staggers me. Why on earth do I suddenly feel the need to comfort him? Why should I care?
"Peyton really fucked him up," Jamie comments, reminding me that he's still there.
"And she said he never wanted her."
"People will say things to make themselves feel better, Pretty Girl. But I can't say it was a total lie." He gives a parting wink, but instead of joining Bennet and Giovanni—who just came back from following Peyton—and the girls surrounding them, he takes his phone out of his pocket and walks the opposite direction.
I stare after him, feeling even more confused than before.
I wouldn't say it was a total lie. What the hell did he mean by that?
CHAPTER 8
Sawyer
I wake up wondering about Jamie's words and what he meant by them. I shouldn't care about it. It's supposed to be Parker and Peyton's business. But I find myself thinking about it just the same.
Maybe because Peyton has been implying that I have something to do with it. That I'm involved somehow. But how?
With a puff of frustrated breath, I kick the blanket off and rise from the bed, padding over to the bathroom to do my morning business.
Peyton is probably just stirring up drama. She's not happy even though she successfully destroyed my relationship with Liam. She wants to play with my feelings even more. Crazy how she'd harbored resentment toward me for a long time, making me believe we were best friends.
It pains me to know that. For years, I thought we were inseparable. We grew up together, made memories together. I thought we were more than friends. She'd been like a sister to me. Obviously, it was never mutual.
Pushing her to the back of my mind, I head downstairs to the dining room where Dad is already seated at the head of the table having breakfast while talking to Mildred, who's seated on his left. Meanwhile, Duke is lying near his feet.
Mildred is the first one to notice my presence, smiling as she does so. "Good morning."
I smile back and return the greeting.
"Morning, kid." Dad glances up and smiles.
"Morning, Dad."
Duke snaps to attention when he sees me. Tail happily wagging, he pads over to greet me.
"Hey, buddy." I lean down to plant a kiss on top of his head, earning a lick on the cheek from him. Sitting down on Dad's right, I scoop a generous helping of sinangag rice onto my plate, then grab some hotdogs and eggs.
"Here's your coffee, Sawyer," Mildred says, placing a steaming mug beside my plate. I didn't even notice that she headed back to the kitchen.
I take a glorious sip and sigh. "Thanks, Mildred. You're the best."
"It's just coffee."
"Hey, as far as I know, it's the best."
She shakes her head as she reclaims her seat, smiling. "You say that every time."
And I'll say it again because it's the truth. She makes the best coffee, and judging from the approving look Dad just gave, he agrees with me, too.
"How's the headline news today, Dad?" I ask, motioning to the iPad propped up in front of him.
It's his version of a newspaper. He says it's more convenient to read news online, since there are several sources he can easily check to verify.
"Depressing and riddled with politics."
I smirk. "Aren't they always?"
He simply smiles then changes the subject. "Heading out today, kid?"
"No. I don't think I have any plans. Why?"
"Want to help me sort out your mom's old clothes in the basement?"
I look up in surprise. "Are you sure?"
Dad nods, a sad smile on his face. "It's time."
*******
It's been four years since Mom died. Four years since we got the dreadful call from the police. It was a car accident. The driver of the other car had been drunk and swerved into her lane.
He survived. Mom didn't.
Staring at the boxe
s filled with her clothes, the painful memory of that day comes rushing in, threatening to overwhelm me.
I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut, rolling the heart-shaped pendant on my neck between my fingers, letting the feel of the necklace Mom gave me soothe the hurt.
Which four years have done very little to lessen.
This is why it took us this long to come down here to sort her belongings. We hadn't been able to bring ourselves to touch her clothes. When she died, it was Tita Minda, her sister, who'd packed up her things and brought them down to the basement.
"Bring back old memories, don't they?" Dad says wistfully, putting a hand on my shoulder before moving to the nearest box.
"What are you planning to do with her clothes?" I ask, plopping down on the chair across from him and pulling the box closest to me.
"I was thinking of donating all of them to Goodwill. But maybe you can find something you and your sister would want to wear?"
I snap my eyes to him. He wants us to have Mom's clothes? "Really?"
He smiles. "I can't think of anyone better to inherit them."
I blink back the tears in my eyes and smile. "Thanks, Dad."
He glances away but not before I get a glimpse of the glistening tears in his eyes. This is clearly hard for both of us.
For a moment, I wish Avery had chosen to come home this weekend. She'd know how to deal with this.
To escape from the sadness and grief clouding the air, I grab a random dress from the box at my feet. It's a pretty, knee-length pink floral dress. "How about this?"
Dad stares at the dress for a long moment, as if recalling a memory, before fondness settles into his features. "Ah, I remember that dress." He holds out a hand and I give it to him. A soft smile graces his features as he touches the material. "This was what Belinda was wearing on our first date as a married couple. God, do I remember it. She looked absolutely radiant."
My chest tightens at the raw emotion in his voice. I wipe at the lone tear running down my cheek. "Tell me about that date."
"Do you remember how she loved karaoke—I mean, videoke?"
I laugh at that. Mom preferred to call karaoke videoke, always saying it was called that way in the Philippines.
"We went to a bar after spending the whole day outside. She said she wanted to sing, and who was I to say no?" He chuckles ruefully. "Your mom couldn't sing to save her life, but she lit up that place like no other. Everyone was cheering for her."
I can easily envision Mom doing just that. When she was still alive, she'd always been the first one to sing at the karaoke during family get-togethers. Like Dad said, she hadn't been gifted with a beautiful voice. But it never mattered. She always ended up in the center of attention, holding everyone's eyes captive. She was magic that way.
I really, really miss her.
Staring at the boxes surrounding us, I quietly ask, "Dad, have you ever wondered what would things be like if Mom were still alive?"
Dad runs a hand over the dress, a wistful look on his face. "Everyday, kid. Everyday."
*******
I drive over to the grocery store as Dad makes the trip to Goodwill to bring Mom's clothes. He insisted that I keep the floral dress—along with a few ones that I thought were cute—and had me set aside some for Avery. The rest went to the Goodwill pile.
In between going through the clothes, we traded stories about Mom—laughing and crying while we relived our fondest memories of her. By the time we were finished, both Dad's and my cheeks were wet with tears. But even though we ended up being emotional messes, the whole thing had also turned out to be therapeutic. We hadn't realized how much we needed it until it was over. Too bad Avery wasn't around to experience it with us.
Allowing myself a sad smile, I round the aisle of toiletries with a basket in hand—only to stop short when I see Parker standing in front of the shelf containing sanitary pads.
He grabs a pack and stares down at it, his eyebrows curved in a deep frown.
"Since when did you start needing those?" I blurt out before I can even stop myself.
Startled, he glances up, his eyes widening a little when he sees me. "I, uh—"
I raise an eyebrow as I move toward him. "Lost for words?"
I have to admit, seeing the guy with an impenetrable facade get caught off-guard is kind of amusing. After the emotional day I had, I need something to be entertained by.
"Uh, my sister," he clears his throat, "asked me to buy her some of these."
"First time?"
"Not really. But you'd think I'd be used to it by now. Every single time I forget that there's a wide variety to choose from." He glowers at the pads like they're offending him. "Worse, Aria never specifies what she needs. She just always instructs me to grab a pack."
"Yeah. I see how it can be a problem." Parker looks so lost that I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.
This is definitely something I don't see everyday. And isn't this a good chance to return all the help he'd given me? Well, at least some of it.
Maybe, after this, he won't act like a jerk toward me anymore. A girl can hope.
"Damn it, I'll just call her." He shoves a hand into his jeans pocket, then frowns and curses. "I left my phone in the car. I have to get it." He turns to leave.
"No, wait." I grab his hand without thinking.
Parker stops and looks down at our clasped hands.
Goosebumps pricks my skin under his stare, making me shudder, and I let go.
I clear my throat. "Sorry. Here." I go to grab four different packs and drop them into my basket since he's not carrying one. "This way she'll have a lot of options, and you won't have to make a trip to your car and back here again. Just remember what she chooses so you won't have the same problem next time." I hand him the basket. "There you go."
He just stares, refusing to take it. "You haven't done your grocery shopping yet."
I wave a hand. "It's okay. I'll just get a new one."
"No, I can't let you do that."
My brows pull together in confusion. "Why?"
"You helped me with my problem."
"It's not really a big—"
"So I'll wait for you to get done. We can share your basket."
"You're going to accompany me while I shop?"
"I got time." He shrugs. Then before I can react, he takes the basket from me and starts to walk. When I just stand there, stunned, he throws a glance over his shoulder. "Coming, Peaches?"
I shake my head and finally follow. Fifteen minutes and several items later, I steer him over to where the cereal boxes are located, then grab a box of Cocoa Puffs and drop it into the almost-full basket.
"Make it two," Parker says.
I arch a brow. "You eat cereal?"
"Sometimes. But mostly Aria and Ethan," he replies, referring to his youngest brother who goes to Holy Oaks Middle School. "They can't go a few days without having puffs for breakfast."
A half-smile forms on my lips as I envision him eating Cocoa Puffs with his siblings.
Being the oldest, he's probably the one who always prepares the cereal for the three of them to eat. Parker doesn't look like a doting brother. But the fact that he doesn't have any qualms buying pads for his sister tells me he's exactly like that.
Endearing is the last word I'd use to describe Parker Holloway, but right now I find it fitting for him.
Yeah. He's endearing.
He narrows his eyes. "What's that look for?"
"Nothing." I'm smiling all the way to the checkout.
CHAPTER 9
Sawyer
The sound of someone clearing their throat makes me peel my eyes away from my locker and glance over my shoulder.
I shouldn't have bothered. It's just Liam.
Ignoring him, I turn back to my locker and proceed to take out the books I need for next period.
"Do you need help with your books?" His voice sounds eager.
"No, I don't," I respond in a clipped tone, hugging t
he books to my chest as I shut my locker.
I can manage on my own just fine. But if I ever need some help, he's the last person I'd ask that from.
"Are you sure? They look kinda heavy."
I whirl around and face him. "What are you doing?"
"Offering help." He shrugs, giving a sheepish smile. "I always carry your books for you, remember?"
What is he, dense? He's acting like things are fine between us. Pretending like the cheating never happened. Well, it did. And I'm not about to forget that.
I press my lips into a thin line. "Yes, I remember that. Just as clear as I remember you cheating on me."
"Now, that's a fucking burn if I ever heard one," a passing Bennett hoots—causing me to bite back a smile—flipping Liam off when the latter glares at him.
"Dick," Liam mutters.
But he already lost my attention. My eyes are fixed on Parker, who's walking alongside Jamie. As if sensing my gaze on him, he stares back. Is it my imagination or did his expression soften? But then his eyes shift over to Liam, and a muscle works in his jaw before he looks away.
Suddenly, I have the strong urge to walk up to him and tell him it's not what he thinks it is. It's all I can do to stop myself from doing just that.
"What's going on with you and Parker?" Liam demands, reminding me that he's still there.
"None of your concern." I turn my back on him and start to walk to class.
He curses. "Sawyer, wait."
I pretend not to hear him. Pretend not to notice the curious glances being thrown our way. But I stop dead when I see Peyton glaring at us from her locker.
My lips curl as I meet her angry gaze. "Don't worry. I have no plans of stealing him back. He's all yours."
Whispers sound out around us, but I ignore those, too. At this point, they've turned into nothing but white noise.
"You don't mean that," Liam protests behind me.
Seriously, what the hell is he doing?
I clench my books to my chest, silently reminding myself that it's not smart to clock him in the face.
When We Fall Page 6