One Eighty (Westover Prep Book 1)

by James, Marie

  I called Peyton and told her that even opening my eyes hurt, but I’d be over later if I got to feeling better. She was actually happy I wasn’t able to make it, complaining that her brain is fried, and it needed a break.

  I turned my phone to silent and went right back to sleep, the pain in my temples subsiding just enough to let me drift off.

  What seems like mere seconds later, my bed dips, and Dalton’s familiar scent fills my nose.

  “Hey,” I mumble as my covers lift.

  “Peyton said you weren’t feeling well,” he says after pressing a soft kiss to the back of my head. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “How did you get into my house?” I know the front door was locked. My parents left this morning through the garage like usual, and I’m the only one who really uses the front door, and I know I locked it when I got home from his house yesterday evening.

  “The key under the rock,” he explains. “You didn’t answer my question. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Just hold me,” I whisper. “I can take more medicine in an hour.”

  Without another word, Dalton wraps himself around my body, and I doze off again.

  Time is meaningless in my dreams, but the pain in my head manages to manifest itself until it’s so unbearable that it wakes me.

  “Medicine?” Dalton whispers, and it takes all that I can manage to nod my head.

  He climbs off the bed, and I’m grateful that he doesn’t turn on the lights as he reaches for the bottle on my bedside, offering two pills to me and a glass of water.

  I swallow the pills with a groan and fall back onto my pillows. Sleep eludes me this time around, but I find comfort in Dalton’s arms. When the meds kick in, I turn in his arms, resting my face against his chest.

  “Do you get headaches often?” he says, keeping his voice low.

  “Not really. Last year when I had the flu, I had horrible headaches. Well, everything hurt, actually.”

  “I wish I was here then to help you.”

  “Oh, you helped,” I snort. “My mom asked yours if you could get my assignments. I was so worried about missing school.”

  “Did I?” he asks.

  “You brought assignments alright, but they weren’t the ones we’d been given in class.”

  He groans, the sound a low rumble in his chest, and it makes me smile against his skin.

  “But the teachers took sympathy on me since I never get into trouble or cause problems. They counted the grades, but it was still hell trying to get caught up since I worked on a bunch of stuff that wasn’t required.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s in the past,” I tell him. It’s the best I can manage because I’ll never say, ‘It’s okay.’ That’s a form of forgiveness, and even though I love that I’m resting against him right now, I still don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forgive him for what he’s done.

  “I wish there was a way to make it up to you. I feel like we missed so much time that could’ve been spent just like this because I was an asshole. Sorry, I mean a jerk.”

  “Then let’s not waste any more time,” I offer.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s get to know one another. Where do you want to go to college?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it. Where do you want to go?”

  “Harvard,” I tell him without missing a beat.

  “Really?”

  “I mean, I don’t think I can afford it, so I’ll probably end up at State.”

  “Maybe you’ll get a scholarship,” he muses. “I think I’d like to go to State, too, but I don’t even know what my grades are like.”

  “You haven’t checked into that yet?”

  He shrugs, and I feel the movement against my own body. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

  I know he’s talking about me, and I won’t even let myself feel bad about that. I don’t know his exact GPA, but Dalton Payne isn’t some dumb jock. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a straight-A student like me.

  “I think we should make plans to go to the same school,” he whispers.

  “Seriously?” I don’t lift my head, but I also don’t manage to disguise my surprise.

  College is over a year away, and as often as I think about getting out of this town, it still seems like a lifetime until it happens. Is he thinking about us being together in a year? I inwardly kick myself for wondering if our shelf life would extend past the end of the summer.

  “Maybe even think of living off-campus so we can share an apartment or something?”

  I want to argue with him, tell him that the idea of living together thrills me and terrifies me at the same time, but thinking about that step right now is a little premature. I don’t do that, though. I keep my mouth closed and let myself wonder what that would look like.

  Would we both have jobs? Take some of the same classes? Time together would be hard to find with a heavy class load, and living together would make it easier, but we don’t really have the same desires.

  I’d find a library or youth center to volunteer at in my spare time, and he’d probably rush the biggest fraternity on campus, attending parties every weekend. It just wouldn’t work.

  “You hate the idea, don’t you?” He wraps his arm tighter around my back, pulling me impossibly closer. “I still have a year to convince you otherwise.”

  “We still have to make it through senior year,” I mutter. “I don’t even know what our first day back to school is going to look like much less the last day.”

  “Close your eyes,” he urges. “Let me describe it to you.”

  I’ve spent most of the last ten years living out my own fantasies in my head, imagining a day when I can walk into a classroom with my head held high rather than with darting eyes wondering which idiot was going to make fun of me or trip me, so I figure I can humor him for a moment.

  My eyes flutter closed, and for a long moment, I concentrate on the sound of his breathing and the upward rise of his chest as he inhales.

  “The first day of our senior year, I’m going to offer you my letterman jacket so you can be reminded of me in the classes we don’t have together. You’ll refuse it, telling me that I don’t own you, but there will be a smile on your pretty lips because we both know that I do.” I grin against him. “We’ll ride together. You’ll probably be driving, seeing as I still don’t have a car.”

  I cringe with the reminder.

  “Get out of your head, Piper, and back in my fantasy. We’ll make out in the parking lot until the first bell rings, but because I’m so addicted to your lips, we’ll kiss for a few minutes longer. You’ll be nervous to get out of the car, so you’ll offer to drive us to a secluded area so I can have my way with your body.”

  I huff a laugh but wonder if it’s something I would do to avoid walking into school while people are still milling around with the possibility of pulling a prank or shooting scathing words in my direction.

  “As much as I’ll want to take you up on that offer, I’ll manage to refuse, with the promise of exploring your phenomenal body after classes are over. You’ll pout, once again, tempting me with the need to bite your lip, but I drag you out of the car, take your hand, and we walk into the front of the school like the king and queen we are.”

  “Hmm. It sounds like you have it all figured out. What does the last day of school look like then, Predictor of My Future?”

  “That’s an easy one. We skip the last day of school because we can’t be bothered to get out of bed long enough to get dressed.”

  I chuckle at the surety in his voice.

  “We may not even like each other by that point. A year is a long time.”

  “Not when I’m betting on forever,” he whispers, pressing his warm lips to my forehead.

  “And if you get your memories back? You may realize that you can’t stand me.”

  I don’t know why I’m pressing him so hard, but it’s one way to keep some sort of guard up
around him. He’s done nothing to make me doubt his changes, but the lingering wariness that he’ll hate me once he remembers me is always there.

  “I don’t think I hated you,” he says.

  “Well, if it wasn't hatred, I don’t want to see you angry at me. I know I sound like a broken record, but you were vile to me.”

  “I know.” He presses his lips to my skin once again. “But I had these…”

  “What?” I prod when he stops speaking. “Tell me.”

  “It’s a little embarrassing.”

  “You can survive a little embarrassment,” I tell him. “Believe me. I should know.”

  He sighs, his weight shifting under mine like he’s suddenly uncomfortable.

  “You can’t judge me if I tell you.”

  “I make no promises,” I tease. “Just tell me. You’re probably making it into a bigger deal than it actually is.”

  “After the accident, I went through my phone.”

  I stiffen, unsure of where this is going.

  “There were…” he pauses. “There were naked pictures.”

  I gasp, my fingers clinging to his shirt when all I want to do is run into the bathroom and hide.

  “Of m-me?”

  Was he planning to use them against me?

  “Fuck, I wish,” he rushes out. “I mean, I’d love to have those kinds of… dammit, I sound like a pervert. They weren’t of you.”

  “Why do you say it like that?” I’m honest with myself enough to admit that I wouldn’t mind having a few racy, candid shots of him.

  “They were nerdy girls, but they all resembled you. They had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, just like you have, like they were my type. Like you were my type, even though I was a complete jerk to you for years.”

  I raise my head from his chest to look him in the eye. “Are you telling me you created a spank bank with nerdy girls that looked like me?”

  Un-freaking-real.

  He nods. “Does that make you mad?”

  I drop my head back down to his chest, a small smile playing on my lips. I reach my hand up. “Show them to me. I want to see them.”

  “Wh-what? I don’t have them anymore. I cleared my phone.”

  “What do you jack off to now, then?”

  He doesn’t respond, but his breathing changes.

  “Tell me,” I urge. “What is it? Is it super kinky? I won’t make fun of you, promise. Unless it’s like a foot fetish or something, then I’ll make fun of you.”

  “I don’t—” I pinch his side until he yelps. “I think of you. I jack off to you.”

  “Like Saturday night?”

  “Nothing was more amazing than Saturday night. I’ve relived that a dozen times since then.”

  “You’ve been a busy boy.” My grin is so wide, it’s making my headache come back. “Will you stay here until close to the time for my parents to get home?”

  “Headache coming back?” he predicts.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sleep, baby. I’ll stay.”

  I fall back asleep with his lips pressed to my forehead and thoughts of our future together drifting around in my achy head.

  Chapter 33

  Dalton

  “That’s it!” Piper praises when Peyton works out a complicated problem from start to finish on her own. “I think you’re ready.”

  “Ugh.” Peyton shoves the notebook away from her. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  “You’re working on sophomore-level problems, Peyton. You’re going to rock that test Friday.”

  “Maybe,” my sister grumbles, but I can tell it’s hard for her to keep doubting herself when Piper has so much faith in her. “Does that mean we’re done? No more math this summer?”

  Piper looks to me briefly before turning her attention back to my sister. “We should probably brush up before the school year starts but—”

  Peyton grumbles her displeasure like only a thirteen-year-old can.

  “Fine,” Piper concedes. “No more math, but I can help you during the school year if you get stuck. Just don’t let yourself get behind like you did last year. High school math gets harder every year, and falling behind makes it nearly impossible to get caught back up.”

  “Believe me,” Peyton says as she stands from the kitchen and stretches her back, “I won’t fall behind. I never want to spend another half of summer doing math homework.”

  My little sister walks toward the fridge, leaving my girl and me alone at the table.

  “Are you really done?” She grins at me as she begins to gather her things. “Does this mean I have you to myself for the rest of the summer?”

  I rub my hands together like a supervillain with diabolical plans, and all I get from her is a weak smile.

  She’s more pale than usual, and it’s clear that the headache from yesterday hasn’t completely gone away.

  “Are you feeling alright?” I hook a finger under her chin and make her look up at me. “Does your head still hurt?”

  “It’s like a dull ache. It’ll be fine.”

  “Have you talked to your dad about it?”

  “It’s just a headache, Dalton. I’ll be fine.”

  When she stands, I pull her against my chest. “Does this mean you’re going back home? I can come with you and hold you while you sleep.”

  Doing that yesterday was the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced. Listening to her soft breathing and holding her against my chest on her bed was amazing, and I can see myself scheduling cuddle time with her on a daily basis.

  “I’m so sick of staring at my bedroom walls. Can we lie down in your bed instead?”

  I know her head hurts, but that doesn’t stop my dick from thinking of better things to do with her in my bed besides sleeping.

  She chuckles, well aware of what’s going on south of the border when I pull my hips back from her a few inches. She doesn’t give me shit for it, though, and that’s a warning sign that she feels worse than she’s letting on.

  “How about we turn the TV down low and watch a movie in the living room?”

  “That’s a great idea,” Peyton interrupts. “I’m going to go see if I can pull Preston away from his video games. Wanna watch Harry Potter?”

  I shrug, leaving it up to Piper to decide on the movie, and she nods her head, but I imagine she doesn’t really plan on watching anything, so she doesn’t really care what’s playing.

  Before we leave the kitchen, I guide Piper to the fridge, grabbing each of us a bottle of water. I remember her saying on Saturday that she hadn’t drunk enough water, and her headache was probably because she was a little dehydrated. I doubt that’s still the case because I practically poured water down her throat the entire time she was awake yesterday, but a little more water won’t hurt.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask before we leave the kitchen.

  When she shakes her head, I guide her to the couch, plopping down and letting her lay across me with her head in my lap. I’ll let my siblings decide what to watch when they get back in here. Right now, I’m quite content to just massage Piper’s scalp while her eyes drift closed.

  I have to shush Preston the second he comes racing into the room like his ass is on fire, but when he sees Piper resting on my lap, he snaps his lips closed. I think the little guy has a crush on my girl, but it works to everyone’s benefit right now because he grabs a blanket off the back of the couch and covers her with it before settling into the recliner on the opposite side of the room. Peyton comes in and pops in the DVD for the second Harry Potter movie, and for the first hour, my little brother doesn’t make a peep.

  The music at the end of the movie rouses Piper, but even though she’s awake, she doesn’t lift her head from my lap. She seems content to stay there as the third movie is put in.

  When Peyton gets up to make something to eat, she’s gracious enough to make everyone a sandwich, and I manage to convince Piper to sit up and eat hers.

  “Want some ice cream instead?�
�� I offer when she only manages a few bites.

  She shakes her head, and the look she has on her face reminds of the one she had when she got the brain freeze from the snow cone.

  “Maybe something warm?”

  “Hot chocolate!” Preston yells, suddenly wincing when Piper moves to cover her ears. “Sorry.”

  She gives him a weak smile. “Hot chocolate would be wonderful.”

  I don’t think she really wants it and is only agreeing because she knows it would make my little brother happy, but I take our plates to the kitchen and pull out a pan and milk to heat on the stove.

  “It’s summertime,” my sister comes in, stating the obvious.

  “And?” I rummage through the crowded pantry until I find the familiar blue box.

  “How did you remember he likes hot chocolate with milk instead of water?”

  I look from the box in my hand to the pan of milk.

  “I didn’t.” But somehow, I knew.

  “I read that sometimes that’s how the memories come back. They’re not like a flash, but just muscle memory more than anything.”

  “Cool,” I tell her because it seems like everyone but me is concerned about my memories. I don’t know what Peyton is worried about, but from her own confession, I know Piper is terrified I will hate her if they come back.

  I don’t ever see that happening. She was worried about my reaction when she told me about driving the car the night of the accident, but I didn’t blink an eye. Apparently, I loved that car, but what she doesn’t know is that I love her more.

  “Are you and Piper like official or something now?”

  I keep my back to her while grabbing mugs from the cabinet.

  “Yes,” I answer her.

  “Does she know that?”

  I chuckle at the surprise in my sister’s voice. “I’ve told her.”

  “Told her? Does she not get a say? Is this just some other way you’re manipulating her?”

  Carefully, I set the mugs on the counter. I could get angry and tell my brat of a sister to stay out of my business, and honestly, I’m tempted to. I don’t want anything coming in between Piper and me, but hostility isn’t going to convince this girl that I’ve changed. If anything, it would only set us back a few steps.