by Len Webster
Her eyes never left his wrist. The throbbing in her chest and the lump in her throat rendered her speechless.
“I got it when I turned eighteen, a few months after I left,” he said in a soft voice.
“But why?” she managed out.
“It seemed necessary,” he replied.
Peyton shook her head in disbelief. “My-my name…necessary on…your wrist.” She looked up at him, confused.
He’d left her the weekend after she’d given him her virginity and told him that she loved him, yet he had tattooed her name on his wrist.
“I don’t understand. You left me and then got a tattoo of my name? That’s crazy!” she exclaimed.
Callum ran a finger over each letter on his wrist before meeting her eyes. “It reminds me every day of why I did what I did. It’s a constant reminder of what I gave up for you.”
“What did you give up for me?” she asked, a little hurt.
“A horrible future with me,” he confessed in a small voice.
“No,” she whispered, staring at the way her name marked his skin in permanent ink. The useless hope that had filled her heart now consumed it.
Peyton quickly brushed the tear that was running down her left cheek. She walked towards her dresser and pulled open the drawer. After rummaging through her jumpers, she found a bundle of Polaroids. She stared at them for a moment before she turned and walked back to him, placing them in his hands.
“We were happy together, Callum. We could have had this, but you decided to walk away instead of fighting dragons with me. You turned your back on me and a future together. We were going to leave this town, go to Deakin, and live together. You went and did that all without me. Do you know how much it hurt me to hear that you went to Deakin while I was stuck here, grieving my parents?”
He sifted through the Polaroids of their time together and swallowed hard. She hadn’t touched them since the day after her parents’ funeral. She had been stupid to believe that he’d attend. Never answering her call should have been a clear indicator. But she’d been hopeful.
“You think it was easy going to Deakin without you? Going to classes and thinking maybe you had applied, too? That maybe I’d see you walking to class and we’d bump into each other? It didn’t happen. I waited for you, hoping you’d show up. That you didn’t let what I had done to you stand in the way of your dream school.” There was an it’s-not-my-fault stance in his voice.
Peyton sat back on her bed, rubbing her forehead. It was too early to be arguing with him. But there was so much that had gone unexplained between them. They were imploding.
“How do we move on from this? You’re adamant that you won’t leave until after the wedding. How do we coexist in this town?” she asked, defeated.
Callum sighed and crouched in front of her. She noticed his sleeve still pushed up and was able to see that her name had visibly branded him. He placed the photographs on her unmade bed and then rested his palms on her knees.
“I’m not saying that you should forgive me so easily, because I don’t want that. Just let me in your life, Peyton, even if it’s only for a little while. We keep taking too many steps back. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but I won’t stop trying to get you to. Can we just have a start fresh? Actually become friends or at least something along those lines?”
Peyton blinked once.
She turned her head and looked at the Polaroid picture of them sitting on the pier together. It had been a good memory of them—one she had reflected on throughout the years. He might have not loved her, but he cared—his tattoo proved it.
“Okay,” she said, her eyes still on the picture. Her mother would be proud about that one word. She turned and met his stare. “But can I ask you a favour?”
“Anything.”
While staring at his tattooed arm, Peyton smiled at the way the letters of her name joined together perfectly. For whatever reason, it was sentimental to him. And the thought had her breathing out as she kept her eyes on his hands across her knees.
He can’t keep my name tattooed on his wrist… I don’t want to be a reminder.
“When you leave, can you get my name removed? That reason behind it isn’t necessary anymore. I shouldn’t be a reminder for you.”
His hands left her for a moment before he placed a finger under her chin, lifting her head to meet his. Then he gave her sorrowful smile and nodded.
“Okay. It’ll be the first thing I do when I leave town. I promise, Peyton.” His voice was wrapped in a delicate and painfully beautiful whisper.
Her heart ripped wide open. Callum Reid would wind up breaking her heart all over again. And for some reason, Peyton was willing to once again feel the pain he’d inflict once goodbye had left his lips.
Callum didn’t say anything else. Instead, he kept his eyes planted on various parts of her face. First, it was her eyes, then her nose, and then finally her mouth. That’s when her breathing decided—in that very moment—that it was an unnecessary function. Peyton wished her lungs would work. Just enough to say that his gaze didn’t leave her breathless…and hopeless…and desperate.
Air. Shit. I need air.
“Can I ask you a favour, Peyton?” he asked, his eyes still locked on her mouth. She couldn’t deny the fact that she, too, was staring.
Afraid of the possible shakiness and betrayal in her voice, Peyton nodded.
Callum’s fingers slowly trailed from under her chin to her cheek, lightly brushing against her skin and almost giving her a heart attack. The sigh he had exhaled echoed in the air before he cupped her face firmly in his palms, his actions requiring her attention. It was then that her lips instantly parted as she took in the features of his face.
She used to stare at his chin dimple when he smiled. She thought back to the days he’d sat next to her in class. When he’d brush his chin as he worked on his questions and she’d stare until he’d look over at her with a raised eyebrow. She’d laugh in the middle of the lesson and the rest of the class would gawk at them. In this moment with him, she wished they were back there, in that classroom. Back to simple times.
“Peyton,” he breathed, and she quickly met those grey pools of conflicted and frustrating emotions.
She swallowed hard, trying to regain some form of composure. “What’s your favour?”
He didn’t turn away or blink. He kept his gaze hard on her. “Promise me that you won’t let me kiss you? I can’t lose focus on why I’m here. And I can’t let anything happen between us. You can’t let me kiss you, okay?”
Her heart plunged, leaving a sick and tight knot in the pit of her stomach. No kissing. She shouldn’t be so disappointed. If anything, she should be relieved. She wouldn’t travel down that path, but deep down, she wanted to know what his lips felt like…for one last time.
Straightening her back, she gave him a firm nod and said, “Scout’s honour, Callum Reid,” before sticking up her pinkie.
His lips curved upwards, and then he entwined his pinkie with hers. “Scout’s honour, Peyton Spencer.”
They both laughed, acknowledging the time they were Cubs in Scouts Victoria. The only reason why she quit the Scouts was because she hadn’t liked one of the older Venturer girls—the one who’d dunked her in the mud pit of the obstacle course. Callum was the one who had pulled her out and quit Scouts the next day with her.
He gently pushed on her knees and stood up properly. When he took her hand and helped her up, Peyton tried to ignore the tingles that his touch ignited.
“What’s our plan today, Scout Peyton?” he asked and let go of her hand.
She was sure that he could feel the sweat of her hand. He made her nervous and uncomfortable. As discreetly as she could, she wiped her hand on her pyjama bottoms.
Then she let out a sigh and picked up the plate of untouched food. “I have to go check on the hotel and make sure the storm damage isn’t too bad.”
“Can I come with you?” he asked.
Peyton walked out
of her room and into the kitchen. She was surprised when she saw that it was clean. From the noise he’d made, she’d been sure she would have been standing in the middle of a bombsite. The kitchen was immaculate, more so than when she had gone to bed. She set the plate on the counter and faced him.
“I’m just going to survey the hotel and then pick up some paperwork that I left behind. I have to get everything ready for when the staff return on Monday. Sure you want to come?” Peyton asked, reaching for an apple in the fruit bowl. She shined it against her tank top and took a big bite, staring at him.
“I’d love to,” he said. Then he winked.
Peyton rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess I can show you my plans for Oscar and Marissa’s wedding.”
“Sounds good. Meet you here in fifteen? I’ll just go back to my parents’ place and shower. That’s enough time for you?”
Peyton took another bite and shook her head, placing the apple on the bench. She raised three fingers of her left hand and formed an ‘O’ with her right.
“Thirty?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Thirty.”
Peyton hugged the towel as she opened her bedroom door. She hummed along to the song that played through the speakers of her phone. It was June’s song. One that had been Peyton’s favourite. She remembered June singing it by the lake, strumming her guitar. Peyton had been on her way to town when June had called her over. The moment she’d heard it, Peyton had felt like it had been written about her. But what heartbreaking song wasn’t?
She walked to her bed and stared at the Polaroids that sat on the covers. Then she picked up the picture of them sitting on the pier. Callum looked happy, and that’s what was so deceiving about him. He looked happy to be with her, but she wasn’t sure if he really had been. Staring at her former self, Peyton could see the differences from then and now. Seventeen-year-old Peyton had had a twinkle in her eye and a smile that twenty-one-year-old Peyton had forgotten how to make. The teenager had looked carefree and happy and…in love. Present Peyton didn’t know how to be any of those. Slowly, one by one, all of those things had disappeared. Death had become her.
What she missed most was the glow on her face. That was something she’d lacked since Callum had left.
After placing the Polaroid back down with the others, Peyton took a deep breath and walked to the wardrobe. When she set her fingers on the knob, she stared at the promise ring that Graham had given her. She knew deep down that it was a promise they’d break, but in that moment, she wanted the possibility of being someone’s future. But Peyton knew the truth; one woman would make Graham fall desperately in love. It was just a matter of time.
Turning around, she leant on the wooden wardrobe and looked at the diamond. It was beautiful. If she weren’t a backup plan, she’d love it more than she did. She lifted her left hand up and ran the thumb of her right hand over it. Then she stopped her movements and held her breath. She always knew the day would come when she’d take it off, but she hadn’t thought it would be for a long time to come. It was constantly in the back of her mind, but today, it felt right to do so.
A knock on the bedroom door didn’t distract her from the way the ring glittered in the light.
“Peyton, it’s been thirty minutes,” Callum said from the other side of the door.
“Callum,” she called out, her eyes still on the diamond.
“Yeah, Peyton?” The hint of uncertainty in his voice made her heart tense. It was Callum’s being back in town that made her unsure of the decisions she had made since she’d last seen him.
“I’m Graham’s backup plan,” she announced.
Silence.
Peyton counted the seconds that ticked by. When Callum said nothing, she turned her attention away from the ring and looked at her bedroom door. A small intake of air had been taken before she walked towards it. Her footsteps echoed and she had no doubt that Callum could hear them, too. Once she got to the door, she turned around and placed her back against it. The faint sounds of his breathing reached her ears.
“Then he’s an idiot,” Callum said.
Forty-three seconds.
The sadness in his voice made her tense, and she stared at the bedroom window she used to sneak out of.
The neediness in her heart nagged her, wanting to know what kind of choice she was to him. Peyton leant her head back and glared at the ceiling before she turned her head to the side.
“If circumstances were different. If I made you happy and if you loved me back, would I have been your first choice?” she asked into the wood of the door.
There was a slight thump against the door and a sharp inhale of oxygen. “You would have been my only choice, Peyton.”
Peyton shut her eyes and softly said, “If only.”
“If only,” Callum agreed, and that’s when a tear ran down her face. Because those were the two words she had continuously wondered for the last four years. “I’ll wait by the couch for you.”
The sound of retreating footsteps made her heart clench harder. Tears continued to skim down her face, and she wiped them away as quickly as they fell.
“You’ve only ever been my choice, Callum,” she whispered to herself.
And there it was. The truth she had been denying all these years. Her one and only choice. And by July, she’d say goodbye. There was no future with Callum Reid. His return was purely to dust off their hands and move on with their lives.
Peyton pushed off the door and walked over to her bed before sitting on it. She picked up the Polaroids as water dripped from the ends of her hair and onto the towel. Reaching out, she took the almost four-and-a-half-year-old memories in her hands and sifted through them.
During their last summer together, she hadn’t seen him not snapping pictures of their time together with his Polaroid camera. They would halve the pile of photographs between them, and just moments before she fell asleep, she’d look at them before tucking the photos under her pillow.
After stopping on the last picture, Peyton set the others back on the bed and stared at the one in her hand. Madilynne had captured this particular moment. It was of Peyton smiling at the camera and Callum staring at her, oblivious to anyone around him. This was when she’d felt his love—if it had been real and not a figment of her imagination. Hope was a sadistic bitch and Peyton would rather they not cross paths. But this one picture filled her with just that. With a bittersweet smile, she leant the picture against the half-melted candle on her bedside table.
Standing, she placed her fingers on her promise ring and slipped it off. There was no regret or doubt in her mind. Just sheer relief to have it off. Once she’d opened the drawer of the table, she placed the ring inside and closed it before staring at the Polaroid.
I want sometimes moments.
“This is good,” Callum said, staring at her design for the dance floor by the lake.
Peyton sat behind her desk, her chin in her palms as she watched him mull over the idea to make the Reynolds’ wedding a success.
“You mind if I go over it, though?” he asked as he sat in the chair in front of her.
She let out a sigh. “So, it’s terrible then.”
Callum shook his head. “It’s not. It just needs an architect’s look at it.”
“How am I going to afford one?” she asked.
A smug look overcame Callum’s face. “You’re looking at one.”
Her eyes widened. “You did not become an architect.”
He nodded. “I’m practically Ted Mosby.”
She laughed at his How I Met Your Mother reference. It surprised her that Callum had become an architect considering he had grown up complaining about his father’s property development business and how he wanted nothing to do with it. But architecture wasn’t property developing.
“Well, Ted, how does my terrific design look in comparison to all the architect-y things you’ve seen?”
“It’s not hor—”
“Peyton!”
The roar had Cal
lum stopping and stilling. Peyton quickly stood up just as Jay burst through the office doors.
“I knew it!” he growled as he stalked towards the desk.
“Jay, what the hell?” she asked.
“You slept with him?” he asked in disbelief mixed with pain.
Callum put the paper back on the desk. “Jay, you have the wrong idea.”
“Shut the fuck up, Reid,” Jay said firmly before he looked at Peyton. “What’s the matter with you, Peyton? You’re better than that. How could you do this to me?” The torment in Jay’s eyes confused Peyton.
“What are you talking about, Jay? We haven’t slept together. We’re working on the Reynolds’ wedding,” Peyton explained.
Jay’s nostrils flared and he banged his fists on the desk before sweeping everything onto the floor. Peyton watched, horrified, as her father’s clock hit the wall. A gut-wrenching pain she had never known attacked her stomach at the sight of broken clock.
“Callum, I need you to leave,” she said, not sure how her voice sounded.
“Peyton—”
She raised her voice. “Get out!”
Callum nodded once before he walked towards the door.
“You’re going to give up everything for him?” Jay asked, unaware that he’d just torn out her heart with his previous action.
“You don’t understand. Nothing’s—”
“The whole town’s talking. Someone saw him leave your house this morning!”
She noticed Callum stop just near the door, his body strung up tight.
“They have the wrong impression of what—”
“But he spent the night?” The anger in Jay’s eyes was something that she hated seeing. He was meant to be her friend, but he wasn’t listening.
“You’re not letting me finish!” Her breathing came in gasps as she raised her voice higher, demanding his attention.