I ride past the other riders, feeling my chest expand with each bit of praise they throw my way. Soon, I won’t need the compliments. I won’t seek out accolades. One day, I’ll be confident in my ability again. But right now, I’m soaking up every drop of their praise like a crusty old sponge in the ocean.
Signs direct me to the area I’m supposed to drop off Oakley, and when I hop off her back, I find Lexi waiting for me, leaned against a column.
“I’m impressed,” she says, fiddling with a blade of hay. “Glad to see you still have it in you. I’d hate to kick your ass on the circuit if it wasn’t a real battle.”
I laugh, one, because I’m pretty sure she’s messing with me, and two, because even her old taunts can’t steal my joy.
“Huh. Well, if memory serves, I’m pretty sure I beat you out for all-around cowgirl the year before I got sick,” I remind her sweetly. “I have no doubt I’ll do it again.”
Lexi digs her tongue into her cheek, trying to hide her smile. It fails as badly as her taunt. She missed this rivalry every bit as much as I did. She raises her eyebrow in challenge and says, “Bring it, Williams.”
“You can count on it, Greene.”
I hand Oakley’s reins over to the assistant on staff, and smile my thanks before turning back to my nemesis. When I do, I leave her with one parting thought.
“Enjoy the easy season, Lex, because next year, I’m coming for you.”
JUSTIN
ROUND ROCK EXHIBITION COWBOY PROM 8:00 P.M.
Damn, I feel like an idiot.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the glass door outside the building and shake a disgusted head. Cowboy hat, leather boots, and a black blazer my Gramps would’ve worn. I look like I went shopping in horse boy’s closet, but when it comes to Peyton, there’s not much I won’t do.
Including, evidently, dressing like John Wayne.
I tug open the door and a wave of country music, Axe body spray, and the scent of leather engulfs me. So this is Cowboy Prom. Everywhere I look, couples are dancing, girls in fancy dresses and cowboy boots, with guys in Wranglers and dress shirts. It’s like a whole other world.
I smile politely at the couple nearest me and maneuver around them as best I can, searching for her. Getting through the game was hard as hell once I made my decision, but I did it. Our team scored another win for Coach Williams, and I had just enough time to grab a shower and track down Cade before driving up here.
Deciding whether or not I can trust him is tricky, but it looks like the guy shot me straight.
While I don’t see Peyton, I do spot Cade near the long table of food. He’s chatting up a tall blonde who looks vaguely familiar. I hate to be a cock block, but this blazer is scratchy, the hat is annoying, and I need to find my girl.
“Hey, man,” I say, effectively interrupting his conversation with the blonde. Cade shoots me a look and I shrug. “Have you seen Peyton?”
The girl looks me over before dismissing me. I bite back a laugh, vaguely impressed. As idiotic as I feel, I’m pretty confident I’m rocking this cowboy crap. She must have it bad for horse boy.
Sure enough, she places her hand on Cade’s arm, leaving it there as she steps closer and says, “See you on the circuit.”
Cade’s totally obvious as he checks out her ass, watching her go.
“Was that necessary?” he asks when she’s out of sight. “I can’t catch a break with you around. First Peyton, now Lexi. You love keeping girls away from me, don’t you?”
I shrug again, not denying it, and he sighs as he looks me over. “Nice duds, by the way. You almost look legit.”
I flip him off. “So where is she?”
“Last I saw Peyton, her mom had her talking with potential students for their school.”
I nod, glad to hear that things seem to be turning around, and say, “Hey, thanks again for sending the video of her ride. I appreciate it.”
It’s Cade turn to shrug as he says, “You deserved to see it. You helped make all this happen, and I’m man enough to admit that. Besides, Faith shot the video and she’s the one who sent me your number.”
A new song begins, a slow song about whiskey, if my ears are working right, and I chuckle to myself. The ode to beer I wrote one particularly bad night could hit gold if I turned it into a country song. Maybe lyric writing is in my future.
The crowd in front of us parts, and I finally catch a glimpse of Peyton. Cade follows my gaze and says, “I take it you’ve decided what you’re doing.”
I nod, my mouth suddenly parched from the sight of her. “That’s why I’m here.”
She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I take a moment to drink her in. She’s absolutely gorgeous. She always is, and her dress clings in just the right places, but it’s her face that almost brings me to my knees. Her eyes are brighter than I’ve ever seen them. Her skin glows. And a smile as big as the stupid belt buckle I’m wearing spreads across her mouth.
Confidence looks damn good on her.
Peyton laughs with the old man in front, and jealousy tightens my gut. It’s dumb, I realize that, but I want to be the reason for all of her laughs. She shakes her head, smiling, and her gaze drifts over to me. She instantly freezes.
I’ve had girls check me out before. It’s an ego boost, especially when it’s a girl you’re into, but this is Peyton, and I’m not just into her… I’m in love with her. And I’m standing here in a ridiculous outfit that itches.
A flush brightens her cheeks, which I’m assuming is a good thing, and her eyes widen as she whispers something to her mom. She excuses herself from the old man and as she makes her way toward me, Mrs. Grace looks over and sends me a thumbs-up.
I head out to meet her halfway, and we meet toward the edge of the dance floor, couples surrounding us on either side.
“Wow, you look—”
“Congratulations on—”
We laugh and take turns motioning for the other to speak. I win when I say, “Ladies first,” and feel a drop of sweat glide down my temple. Damn these hats are hot.
“Congratulations on the win today,” she says, her blush deepening. “Dad called us earlier. I’m so happy for you, Justin.” Then she tilts her head, sort of closing one eye, and asks, “But…how are you here? How did you even know…?”
“Cade,” I answer, nodding toward him behind us. He lifts his cup in the air and I turn back to Peyton. “He also sent me a video of your ride. You were incredible out there.”
Peyton beams. “It felt incredible! I wasn’t supposed to go that fast, it was only an exhibition ride. But, no guts no glory, right?” She bites at the corner of her lip and glances at her feet. “Uh, when Dad called to congratulate me, he mentioned they had a ton of scouts out there today. Looks like your draft position is all but guaranteed.”
I shift closer and wait for her to look back up. When she does, I say, “Too bad it doesn’t matter.”
An adorable squiggle forms between her eyes, even as hope fills them. I take her hand, needing to get away from the Footloose crowd, and lead her to the far wall where we can talk easier. I need to make sure she hears me.
When we reach a semi-secluded spot, away from any speakers, I say, “I realized a few things today.”
“What sort of things?” she asks.
“Things like I’m tired of letting my father dictate my life,” I reply. “Wondering when he’ll remember he has an older son. Getting into baseball to begin with just so he’d notice me, or care.”
She takes my hand, her eyes filled with compassion, and I shake my head, kicking myself again over how much time we’ve wasted.
“Sunshine, I’ve been so busy chasing the idea of being drafted that I never bothered to stop and ask myself why. It’s never been a money thing, or even a love of the game thing—I already agreed to play for one of the best organizations in the SEC.”
“But what about playing professionally?” Her eyes shift between mine. “Isn’t that your dream?”
“At one time, it
was,” I say, threading my hand through her hair to cup her neck. Her skin is so soft beneath my fingers. “And in four years, as long as no injuries get in the way, I can still enter the draft. On my terms, not some elaborate, attention getting way to earn my father’s respect.” I brush my thumb across her jaw and lower my voice. “Plus, this way I’ll have a degree and can chase my other dream while I’m at it.”
Peyton drops her gaze to my mouth. “You calling me your dream, Carter?”
“Nah.” I grin and say, “I was talking about my writing. Having you next to me is strictly a bonus.”
She laughs at that, throwing her head back and lighting up the whole damn room like she did when I first met her. The day she flipped my entire world off its axis. The couples dancing nearest us stop and stare, and I gape right along with them.
“God, I missed that laugh.”
A mix of pleasure and embarrassment stains Peyton’s cheeks and she glances away as the whiskey song transitions into another slow beat. The restless itch I’ve felt all year flares again beneath my skin, and without hesitation, I pull her in my arms… right where she belongs.
Something inside me sighs in relief.
Steering us deeper into the shadows, I press my palm against the curve of her spine. “On the drive up, I wrote another poem,” I say, swaying us softly to the music.
She glances up at me. “Oh yeah?” she asks, batting her lashes. “Inspired by anyone I know?”
“Just some girl who drives me crazy,” I reply, earning a playful pinch to the waist.
Peyton holds my gaze, not pushing, but clearly curious, and I tuck a curl of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. “It’s not written down yet or anything. I mean, I just got here. But if you want…” A strange concoction of nerves and nausea explodes in my stomach and I swallow thickly. “I can tell it to you. You know, if you’d like to hear it.”
My heart pounds harder than it did earlier when we won the game.
Peyton has read my stuff before. She flipped through my notebook that weekend over Easter, and over the course of our relationship, I texted her a handful of poems. But I never read them to her. I never had to say the words aloud. Even that day out by her barn, I purposefully kept my face averted so I couldn’t see her face.
What if I’m not good enough? What if she thinks I suck but is too nice to say it?
Freshman year, I couldn’t have handled that. Truthfully, I’m not that sure I can handle it now, either, but I’m here, prepared to stare straight into her eyes as I share my most honest, naked thoughts about her, about me, about the two of us together.
It’s absolutely terrifying.
Peyton wraps her hand around my wrist and says earnestly, “I’d love nothing more.”
I nod as I soak in the stark sincerity in her eyes, and I inhale a deep breath, prepping myself for exposure. This is by far scarier than staring down a no-hit pitcher. This is me, the real me, on display for the one person who matters more than anything.
Exhaling the fear, I remind myself it doesn’t have to be perfect. That I don’t have to be perfect. This isn’t my father… it’s Peyton. She loves me, truly loves me, and it’s okay if my poetry sucks. She’ll love me regardless.
Sliding my hand up the slope of her back, I draw her close against me.
“I loved you then,” I say, my voice shaking only the slightest bit on the delivery. I pause to collect myself and rein it in. “I love you now. I’ll love you always, because you showed me how. You always see the best in me, and because of you, I’m the man I want to be.”
Peyton’s eyes fill with tears, shining bright with love and pride, and the last of my anxiety fades.
“You’ve taught me that there’s so much more, that I don’t need the mask I wore. I’m casting it off, ready to walk in the light. Being with you is the only thing that’s right.” I smile down at her, feeling the truth of that in my bones. “I’m through with being patient, I’m not doing it anymore. Peyton, you’re the girl I’m fighting for. You’re the prize I’m gonna win—”
Through her tears, she lifts an amused eyebrow, and I shake my head. So damn cute.
“I promise you,” I continue, lowering my voice to a whisper. “I’ll be the best I’ve ever been.”
The last line is delivered against her lips as I wipe away a tear with my thumb. Then I rest my forehead against hers, my heart completely laid open. But it doesn’t matter… it’s always been hers anyway.
Peyton sniffles, her eyebrow still raised. “Prize you’re gonna win, huh?”
I huff a laugh and feign annoyance. “It’s poetic, woman!” I shake my head, rocking hers back and forth in the process, and grin. “It means you’re worth it. That I know my work’s cut out for me when it comes to you, but I’m signing on anyway. You deserve better, and I know it, but I’m ready to spend the rest of my life proving myself. To you, to your father, to anyone who tries to steal you away.”
I lean my head back and give her a pointed look, letting her know no one was flirting with her on my watch, and she rolls her eyes with that cute little smirk on her lips. Damn, I can’t believe she’s mine.
“You’ll never be sorry you risked your heart again on me,” I vow, hoping she hears the ring of sincerity in my voice. I slide my hand across the silky fabric of her dress, over her waist and up her torso, resting it right over her pounding heart. “I promise you, I’ll keep it safe.”
She gifts me with a soft smile and says, “I know you will. And I’ll protect yours. Nothing is getting between us again, Justin. I won’t let it. Not even your stubborn assumption that I deserve better.”
As the determination in her gaze fully sinks in, my eyes close with contentment.
I’ve never had anyone in my life I could keep. My grandparents hung around as long as they could, but I only got a few years. My mom never wanted me, my dad couldn’t care less, and Annabeth… well, I won’t even go there. As for the others, Chase is only a kid, Rosalyn is paid to be there, and Carlos, as much as he has my back, has his own thing going.
With girls, every relationship before and after Peyton has been transient. Blink and you missed it, no attachments. Casual. I did that on purpose, so no one ever got too close. No one could ever hurt me.
But with this beautiful, brave, brilliant girl in front of me, I never even stood a chance.
Peyton’s smile transforms, growing wider until it takes over her entire face. The skin around her eyes crinkles, two small dimples pop, and true happiness exudes from her pores. My breath catches.
“Justin, that poem… I loved it. You have to know how gifted and amazing you are.” She presses her open palm against her chest, over my hand that’s still resting on her heart, and says, “I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts.”
Her confession weakens my knees. By the grace of God I don’t fall on my ass in front of the crowd, and instead tighten my hold around her waist. She slides her arms over my shoulders, circling around my neck, and I lift her off her toes, responding to that the best way I know how. Kissing her senseless.
Peyton’s taste explodes on my tongue, and the word mine pops into my head. I repeat it over and over as I kiss her again and again and again, locking my greedy lips onto hers and tangling our tongues together.
Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.
My fingers thread through her hair, loving that she’s wearing it down so I can feel the soft strands glide across my rough fingertips. She moans in the back of her throat and I grin, grateful for the shadows, and gently back her against the wall.
It’s not until she’s good and flustered and clinging to my shoulders, breathless, that I lift my head. Gasping for breath myself, I brokenly whisper, “Peyton Williams, I’m crazy in love with you.”
I slide my nose against hers, tilting my head to brush her lips once, twice, three times before saying, “You’re not my dream… you’re my everything.”
Peyton’s eyes fill with love, happiness, and awe as her mouth forms a smile nothin
g short of dazzling. Lowering her gaze to my lips, she tugs my head down and says, “More.”
Grinning like I just won the damn lottery, I happily comply.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
What a journey this has been! When I first sat down to write The Fine Art of Pretending in 2010, I had no clue it would ever be finished, much less published. That writing experiment turned into nine published books—nine. It seriously boggles the mind. But Fine Art was my first book baby, and it was soon after I typed ‘The End’ that I realized there were more stories to tell in this world. Particularly Justin’s story.
Luckily, many of you agreed, asking for more stories of these characters that I love so much. Your emails, your tweets, your messages, and your reviews made this book possible. Because truthfully? This book wasn’t easy to write. In fact, it tried to kill me. Turns out, writing a dual point-of-view story with a dual timeline isn’t for the faint of heart. I confused myself more often than not while drafting, but your enthusiasm and support for this book motivated me to continue. I’m so very grateful. Justin and Peyton may be my two favorite characters I’ve ever written, and their journey to discovering true strength and forgiveness is a story I believe that needed to be told.
So, first and foremost, I want to thank YOU! I hope this book was worth the wait and that you fell even more in love with Justin in these pages. I know I did!
That being said, The Natural History of Us wouldn’t even exist without the help of several people. Here is where I will slobber over them all:
Melissa West and Cindi Madsen, I’d be a complete mess without you. You are my soul sisters, and you talked me out of my confusion so many times. Melissa, your spot-on notes made this book stronger. I love you girls!
If you love Justin’s poetic soul as much as I do, we all have Megan Rigdon to thank. As my assistant, she read over multiple versions of this book as it was being created, and while doing so she was somehow inspired by my crazy mess of words to write poetry. Poetry that became the very snippets that Justin wrote in his journal and were shared within these pages. Megan, your friendship and talent lifted this book to another level. Thank you, sweet girl.
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