One Eighty (Westover Prep Book 1)

by James, Marie

  “Because it wouldn’t matter. I only have one more year of this crap, and then I’m leaving Westover for good. There’s no sense in stirring stuff up.”

  “You should—”

  A knock on her bedroom door prevents the dispensing of what could only be immense levels of knowledge from the thirteen-year-old girl.

  “Go away,” she snaps so loud I cover my ears. “Sorry.”

  I laugh at her apology, but the chuckle fades away when her bedroom door opens, and Dalton pokes his head inside.

  “What are you doing, creeper? We could be naked in here.”

  Dalton rolls his eyes at his sister, but when he looks in my direction, his eyes roam over my body, and I can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t hate the idea of seeing me naked. I swallow thickly before running the wad of toilet paper under my eyes. The action draws his attention to my face, and I hate that he’s seeing me so upset.

  My nose is running, and I know my eyes are puffy and red. He’s not the one who made me cry this time, but the situation is way too familiar to all the times he was the reason I sat on a bed with tears in my eyes.

  “Can you give us a minute?” Dalton asks his sister.

  “No,” she answers immediately. “This is my room, jerk.”

  I don’t know if she’s putting on a united front with me because she just wants to punish him or if it’s because she feels bad for taking up for him earlier.

  “Please?” he asks.

  “It’s okay, Peyton. Maybe just a few minutes.”

  She huffs as she stands from the bed. “Just holler if he acts like an asshole. I’ll replace the cream filling in his Oreos with toothpaste.”

  I cringe at the thought as she walks out of the room.

  “Leave the door open,” she tells her brother. “She doesn’t want to be alone with you.”

  “You told her that?” he asks after she’s gone.

  “I didn’t say it out loud, but she seems pretty good at picking up social cues.”

  He frowns as he draws closer, but he must see the look on my own face because he redirects himself from sitting on the bed beside me to plopping down on the floor.

  “It’s clear that I did some super shitty stuff to you in the past.”

  I huff. “That’s an understatement.”

  “There’s nothing I can do to change any of that,” he continues, avoiding my addition to the conversation. “I don’t know what I can do to make it right. What I do know is that you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and I’m certain that I realized that long before the accident.”

  Cold chills sweep down my arms. Oh, how my life would’ve been different if he would’ve realized any of this before now.

  “So, it got me thinking.”

  “That’s dangerous,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

  He chuckles, but his fingers continue to twist together in his lap. When he looks up at me, his green eyes are filled with so many emotions. Somehow, he no longer looks like the guy who has haunted my nightmares for the last twelve years, but I think this realization makes him even more dangerous.

  “There has to be a reason for the way I treated you.”

  “Other than the fact that you’re hateful and mean?”

  Is he looking for a way to point the blame of his actions on me? How narcissistic is this jerk?

  “Can you remember the first time I was mean to you?” he asks, not paying attention to my flippant question.

  “The first day of kindergarten, you pushed me down and got my dress dirty.”

  He smiles, and the sight of his cheeks pulling up startles me. He’s always been handsome, but he’s different right now.

  “I probably liked you even back then.”

  My brows scrunch. “Don’t give me that crap. My parents used to tell me ‘boys will be boys’ when I was younger, and I complained about you being mean to me. I don’t care if you were too young to use words like be my friend, or I think you’re pretty, hitting me, shoving me, and being mean to me was never okay.”

  “I agree.”

  My lips clamp closed with his swift agreement.

  “Are you really still mad about what happened over twelve years ago?”

  My eyes narrow. “What about the dead snake in my backpack in first grade, or the time you tore up my library book in second grade? Maybe I’m still mad about the spiders in my locker in third grade or when you sent me to the hospital in fourt—”

  “Okay, okay.” He holds his hands up near his ears in mock surrender. “I get it. I’ve always been an asshole.”

  “Exactly.” I cross my arms over my chest, no longer worried about my puffy face and eyes. Maybe crying in front of him should’ve happened a whole lot sooner, but even as I think it, I know Dalton would’ve only used it for ammunition at a later date. Before the accident, he didn’t care at all how what he did to me made me feel.

  “I’m no longer denying it. I was a total douche.”

  “King Douche of all douches,” I specify.

  “Let me prove that I’m different.”

  My mouth runs dry with the request.

  “I can’t.”

  “You didn’t even think about it long enough before you rejected it.”

  “I don’t need to think about it. I was serious when I said we should just stay out of each other’s way.”

  “And I’m serious when I tell you that every one of my waking thoughts is about you, and I can’t sleep at night knowing that you’re next door hating me.”

  “Maybe it’s about time you lost a little sleep over the vile things you’ve done.” I have to look away from him when sadness tugs the corners of his mouth down. “And I think trying to make me feel bad about it only proves that you’re still the same guy.”

  “That’s harsh,” he mutters.

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I just want to get to know you, and I think if you get to know who I am now, you’ll see that I’m not that guy anymore.”

  “And then what happens when all of your memories come back? Do you honestly think I’d waste my time with you only to end up back under your feet once that happens?”

  “Even if I get my memories back, it won’t make you any less beautiful. It won’t make me stop thinking about your lips, wondering how they’ll feel against mine. If anything, my memories will only make me realize what I’ve been missing all this time.”

  “That’s enough.” Just the mention of him wanting to kiss me makes me tingle, and that pisses me off.

  “Just being honest.”

  “Well, keep that kind of honesty to yourself.”

  “Will you please give me a shot?”

  “I’m not going to date you just because you begged.”

  His lips twitch. “I’m not asking you to date me, yet. At this point, I’d be happy with you not running away every time I walk in a room.”

  I look in his eyes, searching them for any form of deception. I find none.

  “I’m not making any promises, but I guess it won’t hurt me to stop being so rude.”

  “It’s a start.” He grins again. “I’ll take it.”

  He offers his hand to me, but I glare at it like he’s holding a squirming snake.

  “Too soon?”

  “Yeah,” I answer. “Way too soon.”

  “Okay, then.” He stands from the floor. “The original pool party was a bust, but that doesn’t mean our entire day has to be ruined. Why don’t you go home and grab a swimsuit? I’ll convince Preston to leave his room for a few hours, even though he may have to stay in the shade. I don’t think the kid has seen sunlight in weeks.”

  “What?” He’s rambling so fast, I wonder if he somehow tricked me into agreeing to hang out with him, and I missed it somehow. “I’m not getting in the pool.”

  “Then you can sit in one of the loungers and watch me swim.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “You said you weren’t going to be rude.”

  �
�Turning down your demand to go swimming isn’t rude,” I counter.

  “It’ll be fun, promise.” He walks across the room and opens the bedroom door. “Peyton!”

  “What?” his sister says as she steps out of Preston’s room. “Did she claw your eyes out? I don’t see any marks.”

  “We’re on good terms,” Dalton assures her. “Convince this pretty girl to go swimming. I’m going to go make snacks for everyone.”

  Dalton disappears out of the room, and Peyton turns around to glare at me.

  “What happened?”

  I shrug. “I agreed not to be so rude.”

  “Damn.” She grins wide. “I wonder how he’d act if you agree to go out on a date with him.

  “That’s never going to happen.”

  “Never say never, pretty girl. Let’s take a break from math and go swimming.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Then sit on the lounger and watch us swim.”

  “That’s exactly what Dalton suggested.”

  She winks at me. “Great minds think alike. Now go get changed.”

  I yelp when she slaps my ass, but I grin all the way out of her house to go get my bathing suit.

  Chapter 17

  Dalton

  “She’s allergic to strawberries,” Peyton mumbles when she walks into the kitchen.

  “Seriously?” Giving up on cutting the strawberries, I scrape all of them in the trash.

  “What are you playing at, Dalton?”

  My sister props her hip against the counter, and I can tell by the way her arms are crossed over her chest that she isn’t impressed with me at all.

  “What do you mean? I was going to make strawberry lemonade, but we can just have regular since she’s allergic.”

  “If you’re doing this as some type of messed up joke, I’ll never forgive you.” She straightens. “Better yet, if I find out you’re trying to manipulate her or convince her you’re a nice guy only to turn around and be mean to her again, I’ll kill you.”

  I smile, loving that she’s in Piper’s corner.

  “Have you always been so violent?”

  “I’m serious, Dalton. She deserves better.”

  “I know she does,” I agree. “I was only making lemonade, promise.”

  “My threat may not mean a damn thing to you, but I swear I’ll make it happen.”

  She doesn’t give me time to answer her before she walks out of the room. It seems I may have more than one person to prove myself to.

  Piper doesn’t knock when she comes back over, and I love that she must feel welcome in my house enough to just walk right in. Of course, she’s wearing an economical one-piece. Only in my fantasies would she show up in a revealing two-piece. She’s the complete opposite of the girls that were over here earlier, and I love that about her, too.

  “I made lemonade,” I tell her with a smile as I reach into the cabinet for four glasses.

  Preston assured me he’d be down in a few minutes after his game was over, and I’m certain he means it. His eyes lit up when I stopped by his room to see if he wanted to hang out with us. If only Piper and Peyton were as willing to see past the way I used to act.

  “Is it poisoned?”

  I chuckle, but when I look over at Piper, I can tell she’s at least a little bit serious.

  “Well,” I begin, “I almost poisoned you, but Peyton told me you were allergic to strawberries. I put them in the trash. You’re allergic to nuts, too. Any other deadly foods I should know about?”

  “How did you know I was allergic to nuts?”

  “Kyle mentioned it earlier.”

  “Did he mention fourth grade, or were you two plotting on another way to hurt me?”

  I ignore the skepticism.

  “He mentioned I tried to kill you with a Reese’s when we were younger,” I admit. “And it may mean nothing now, but I’m sorry about that. Anaphylactic shock isn’t just some stupid prank. That could’ve been really bad.”

  “We were just kids,” she mumbles. “Just so long as you wouldn’t do it now.”

  She grabs the pitcher of lemonade and follows me to the back patio.

  “When was the last time you were over for a swim?” I ask before placing the glasses down on the patio table.

  “Never.”

  I’m shocked by her answer, but if I really think about it, I know I shouldn’t be. If I started being mean to her in kindergarten, then I guess she never would’ve had the chance to come over.

  “Well, you’re welcome to it any time,” I offer.

  “Thanks.”

  Her response is muttered, so I do the only thing I know to do. I change the subject.

  “I brought towels out already. Are you going to swim in your shorts?”

  “I’m not swimming.”

  I don’t argue with her or try to pressure her into getting into the pool. Hounding her until she gives in seems like something the old Dalton would do, and since I’m no longer that jerk, I let it slide.

  “Okay. Well, if you change your mind, I’m pretty sure you’ll have a good time.”

  “Cannonball!” Preston yells as he runs across the patio in dinosaur printed swim trunks.

  He tucks his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs and flies into the pool.

  “He knows how to swim, right?” I ask Piper when he doesn’t immediately pop back to the surface.

  “I sure hope so.”

  A second later, Preston’s head breaks the surface of the water, and his face is overrun with a huge smile.

  “I’ll be back,” I tell her before heading back inside.

  She’s settling in a sun lounger on the edge of the pool when I make it back out with a tray of sandwiches.

  “You’re not allergic to turkey on wheat, are you?”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No.”

  “You sure are laying it on thick. Lemonade and sandwiches? You don’t have to turn into Betty Crocker in an attempt to prove to me you aren’t a jerk.”

  “Peyton helped,” I tell her. “Plus, I was hungry. It’s just as easy to make six sandwiches as it is to make one.”

  “Well, that’s very nice of you.”

  I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “There are chips inside, if you want me to grab them.”

  “This is fine, thank you.” She grabs half a sandwich off the tray but doesn’t immediately lift it to her mouth. I grab the other part and bite it in half, a silent way of proving to her that I didn’t do anything to tamper with the food.

  “Where’s your cast?” she asks as I lift the second half of the sandwich to my mouth.

  “Cut it off.” I shrug. “It got in the way.”

  “You’ll regret that when your bones don’t heal properly.”

  “Probably so,” I agree. “Seems I regret a lot of things these days.”

  She nods with understanding but then breaks eye contact. We watch Preston splash around in the pool for a few minutes until the pull to get in myself gets the better of me.

  “Sure you don’t want to swim?” I ask as I stand and pull my t-shirt over my head.

  “No, thanks.”

  Her eyes are glued to my chest, but I don’t flex to show off the muscles that I’ve clearly worked hard to get. I’ve tried lifting weights since I got out of the hospital, if anything just to kill time, but the strain makes my head hurt, and even though the cast got in the way, my wrist is nowhere near healed enough for that yet.

  “Offer stands if you change your mind.”

  I turn away from her, not wanting to go, but needing the space. The sight of her laid out, even in that one-piece, makes me want to do naughty things to her, but the girl can barely stand the sight of me. No doubt she’ll maim me if I try to run my finger up her leg like I’ve been dying to do since she showed back up.

  “Cannonball!” I yell as I run to the pool.

  Preston claps and celebrates like only a ten-year-old boy can when I resurface. Peyton joins Piper on th
e patio, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Before long, Peyton slowly wades into the pool, and Piper is left sitting alone on the side.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” my sister complains. “I tried to convince her to get in. She doesn’t want to.”

  “Yeah, she turned me down too.”

  “Of course, she turned you down,” Peyton huffs as she slaps the water in my face. “She’s not going to fall in love with you in a day.”

  “Love?” I huff, looking back in Piper’s direction after wiping the water from my face. “I could only hope.”

  “Then go talk to her,” my sister urges. “Don’t hang out here and ignore her.”

  I figured she’s had enough of me today, but Peyton knows more about girl shit than I do, so against my better judgment, I swim to the end of the pool that Piper is at.

  “The water feels great,” I tell her as I rest my chin on the edge of the pool. “You should get in.”

  She glances from me to the sparkling water several times before her eyes finally meet mine.

  “It does look enticing.”

  “Plus, I’m in here.” I give her a wide grin, but she just rolls her eyes. “Too douchey?”

  “Just a touch.” She holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart for emphasis.

  “Still. You should get in. I promise no more douchiness.”

  “And if I don’t?” she challenges.

  “I promise I still won’t act like a douche. Maybe we can play Marco Polo.”

  “Yeah!” Preston yells. “Let’s play Marco Polo!”

  “Are you really going to disappoint my little brother?”

  She raises an eyebrow. “You said you weren’t going to be a douche.”

  “Last time, promise. Come on, Piper. Let’s play.”

  I can see it in her eyes the second she decides to join us, and I’m ecstatic. Unfortunately, she keeps her shorts on as she slowly inches into the water from the stairs.

  Being the oldest, I’m nominated to go first, but it doesn’t take long before I manage to catch my little brother. He splashes too much when he swims, and it makes him an easy target. Preston tags Peyton in the second round, but I discover quickly that she let herself get caught because she’s tagging me seconds into her turn.