by Niki Burnham
Her gaze snaps to mine. “You sure about that, Mr. Superjock? Mr. Popular?”
“Mr. Wants-to-go-to-MIT.” Careful not to move too aggressively, I take one of her hands from her pocket and capture it in mine. “I keep my mouth shut about what I want most because I’m afraid of how my friends or family will react. And I’m serious about my schoolwork and my future, even if people don’t view me that way.”
When Peyton remains silent, I rub my thumb across her knuckles. She looks at our joined hands as if she wants to pull free, but remains still. “Peyton, we have all of that in common. But I want to know the rest. The stuff we don’t have in common is as interesting to me as the stuff we do.”
I move to kiss her, but she ducks, her fingers slipping from mine. “Connor, no.”
“Peyton—”
“I can’t. It’s not that I don’t want to.” Her eyes meet mine. Desire is visible, deep in her gaze, but then she blinks and straightens, crossing her arms in front of her so I can’t hold her hand anymore.
As if she’s willing away the impulse to be with me.
I let out a breath. “Why?”
She worries her lower lip, wrestling with what she wants to say. “It’s just…if you aren’t interested in Molly, and you were so dead-set on dissuading her, then why did Drew say you two were flirting in the hallway? You said you wanted to explain things to me, but you didn’t explain that. And you could’ve done it even before Drew confronted you at lunch. When we were here on the couch, you were acting all guilty about what happened at Blanchard’s. I told you not to feel bad. In fact, my exact words to you were, ‘it’s not like Molly’s doing you a favor in the hope you’ll notice her and ask her out,’ and you didn’t say anything. So what’s the truth here? Did you use her interest in you to get her to help you with Senior Assassin?”
“First, she was flirting with me, but it didn’t go both ways, like Drew said.” I keep going, despite the fact her blue eyes are widening by the second. “What Drew saw was Molly was offering to act as bait to draw Drew out into the open. I said no at first. I told her I didn’t feel right about it, but…well, she was holding my arm and begging, and she told me that I could help her in the next round, so I caved. I shouldn’t have, given that I thought she had expectations, but I did. Then when you said what you did on the couch, I froze.”
At Peyton’s look of distress, I add, “But that’s not everything. After you left the courtyard yesterday, Molly came back to the table to apologize for all the things Drew said at lunch.”
“Why would she apologize?”
“That’s what I asked, because I was all set to apologize to her, to tell her that I’m her friend—and only her friend—and that it was wrong of me to accept her offer.” I flail for the best way to explain this so Peyton doesn’t hate me. “I was afraid I’d been using her. Turns out it was the other way around.”
“Come again?”
“She was only flirting with me to make Drew jealous. Those texts? She sent them whenever her friends were around, figuring that they’d talk about it and Drew would eventually find out. It’s the same reason she put her hand on my arm in the middle of the hallway. She knew Drew was standing there.”
“Molly planned this.” Peyton’s voice is flat, disbelieving.
“Yep. But there’s more.” I step back to the counter and take a seat again. This time, when I gesture to the empty barstool, she sits, though she leaves more space between us than I’d like.
“I’m telling you this because I want you to trust me.” Even though it may mean Josh will kill me. “It’s major. And it can’t leave this room.”
She spins her hand in a get-on-with-it motion.
“Molly rigged Senior Assassin.”
Peyton opens her mouth to protest, but as she processes the information, her lips form a stunned O.
“I couldn’t believe she’d pull a stunt like that, but she did, thanks to Jayne.” I puff out a breath.. “Josh and I figured it out after lunch yesterday, when Molly mentioned that she’d spent an entire day last spring planning out how she could get Drew back.”
“You mean get back at Drew?”
I shake my head. “Nope, get Drew back. She knows Drew’s never liked me. She figured that if she flirted with me at the same time I was trying to knock Drew out of the tournament, his ego wouldn’t let him stand by and take the double whammy.”
“Flirting with you wasn’t enough?” Confusion etches her features. “But wait a sec. When you and Josh eliminated Drew, she didn’t want anything to do with him. She told him she was teaching him a lesson, right?”
I want to point out that girls aren’t always logical, but rein in the urge. “Over the last week or two, she’s come to realize that she and Drew aren’t the best match. She even hinted that she might be interested in someone else.” I hold up a hand. “Not me, though. Definitely not me. You can ask Josh. Of course, then he’ll know I told you that Molly rigged the tournament assignments. We agreed to keep it on the down low until we figure out what to do. It’s not our fault, but it’s not right, either.”
“Wow. Guess I missed a lot when I left the courtyard.” Peyton leans back to rest her elbows on the countertop. We’ve kicked back like this dozens of times with Josh, mostly while we wait for Mrs. Lindor to fix snacks or order pizza, but Peyton doesn’t have her feet on the lower rail of my barstool the way she usually does. Instead, she’s turned at an awkward angle so her feet are propped on the bottom of the stool Josh prefers.
I reach over and spin her barstool so her feet smack into mine, then ease my hands onto either side of her thighs. As much as I want to slide my hands upward, toward the fringe of her denim shorts, I keep still. I want her full attention. “Pey, all of this is a very long-winded way of saying I’m sorry and that I don’t want Senior Assassin or Molly or even Josh to get between us.”
After a heartbeat, she says, “Josh could be a problem. I’d never want to get between the two of you—”
“You won’t.” I inch my hands higher, leaning in so I can kiss her doubts away. We can deal with Josh later. What’s important is that we get things straight between the two of us.
That and take advantage of the time Josh is at Cumby’s.
Her hands clamp down over mine. “Connor, no. Let me finish.”
I withdraw, reluctantly leaning back on my stool to give her space.
“All this week, while you’ve been dealing with Molly and Drew, I’ve had to deal with Tessa. She’s been on a nonstop whine about…well, it doesn’t matter what it was about. The upshot is that I told her that if she really wants something, if it’s her dream, then she needs to shut up and do, and not let anything or anyone get in the way of her goal.”
“Okay.” I’m not following, but Peyton’s tone twists my gut into the same knot I experience whenever I’ve run too hard at soccer practice and want to hurl.
“She told me I should take my own advice. And you know, she’s right.” Peyton crosses her arms the way she always does when she’s nervous. “More than anything, I want to get into MIT, but I got so caught up in everything going on this week…with Senior Assassin, with Tessa, with you, that I blew an assignment. It’s not a big deal. Most people who forget an assignment say an ‘oh crap’ and forget about it an hour later. But it bothers me. I know that makes me boring and unlikeable to a lot of people. They think, ‘Peyton Lindor, she’s no fun,’ or ‘that freak Peyton, she’s always studying,’ but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to have fun. It only means I don’t want to risk my future over it!”
Not only is she babbling, which is never good, her tone grows more emotional the longer she speaks. Hoping to show her how ridiculous she’s being, I spread my hands. “You’re saying that I’m risking your future?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know!” She swipes a hand through her hair. “But I know what distractions have done to Tessa. And I know what distractions have done to me this week. I look down the road and part of me thinks, ‘Wow, something w
ith Connor could be great.’ But the other part thinks, what if it’s not? Will I mess up your friendship with Josh? Will I get so upset and distracted that I blow my SATs at the end of the year? Tessa did fine on her SATs, despite all her screw-ups, and Josh did great, even though he hardly studied. But I’m not like Tessa or Josh, no matter how much everyone seems to expect it. I can’t just show up at an exam and have everything go my way. I have to study for every single point.”
I stare at her. Did she not get it when I told her how much we have in common?
“That’s the thing, Peyton. You aren’t like Tessa or Josh. You’re you. Just like I’m not like some stupid Mr. Superjock. We’re each more than a first impression, you know?” If she can’t figure this out herself, what chance do I have of convincing her? “We’d be good for each other, Pey.”
Her eyes fill with tears. They hover on the edge of her lashes, but don’t spill over. “I know you want me to trust you, Connor, and I do. But—”
“But you don’t.”
Her words come out in a whisper. “I don’t trust myself.”
In that instant, I glimpse the large packet occupying the far countertop, wedged in the space between the paper towel holder and the toaster oven. It doesn’t belong to Josh.
It kills me that she can’t see how we can support each other’s dreams.
I stand up to leave, eliciting a surprised gasp from Peyton. “I think you’re looking for an excuse for us not to be together. Because if you’re really taking your own advice, you’d go for the whole package. Everything you want. But you know, trust isn’t something that can be proven. You have to take a chance. You have to stop being chicken.”
I hate the harsh edge in my voice, but with everything that’s happened this week, I’ve had it. Plus, I’m still damp from standing on the front porch for so long. If Peyton wants me, she needs to show it.
I tell her no hard feelings, that we can still be friends like before, and then turn for the front door.
“Connor, don’t go. It’s only that I’m still trying to figure out—”
“I’ll see you Monday.” One week to the day since I uttered the words, Peyton’s pretty level-headed…she doesn’t get all emotional about girly stuff. Little did I know.
I wedge my feet into my shoes without bothering to bend down and untie them first, then scoot out the door, cutting through the woods despite the puddles in order to avoid sniper fire.
This would be a hell of a lot more comfortable if I had my own car.
I’m halfway home when my phone vibrates with a text:
grayson wz in cumbys pkg lot & I didnt see him
A second text from Josh bumps the first:
he called joe & im out…keep yr head down less than 24 hrs 2 go ok?
I shove the phone into my pocket without responding. A lot can happen in twenty-four hours.
Chapter Fifteen | Peyton
My heart jumps in my chest, pounding as hard and fast as if a gun fired near my head. A pair of wide blue eyes stares down at me.
“What the—”
“Hi, Pey!” Tessa’s crowded onto my bed, sunlight from my now-raised window shade streaming through her blonde curls. She has a huge smile on her face, oblivious to the fact I realized she wasn’t a homicidal intruder only half a second before screaming an alert to the entire house.
“Um, hi.” I will my heartbeat to a less-frantic rhythm and squint at her. She’s had her teeth whitened. I wonder if it’s for Matt. It’s blinding at—I roll over and check my alarm clock—six a.m. No wonder my dream was so vivid; I was in the midst of it.
“Sorry I woke you up, but I couldn’t wait another minute. I’ve been dying to talk to you!”
Dying to talk to me? Really? She’s lucky she’s not dead at my hand. It’s about a five-hour drive for Tessa to come home from college, so weekend visits are rare. Rarer still when she has a boyfriend. Rather than commit murder, I manage a semi-gracious, “This is a surprise,” push to a sitting position, and blink my room into focus.
You’d think Tessa would heed my mood and move cautiously. Instead, she bounces off the bed and leans over to give me a celebratory bear hug, rocking me back and forth with over-the-top excitement. When she releases me, I slump backward against my pillows, desperate to go back to sleep. My early morning brain is semi-functional at best; having it rattled around my skull by her hug after last night’s bout of insomnia doesn’t help. I couldn’t stop obsessing about Academic Olympics, nosy e-mails from Tina and Kendall, or my kitchen fiasco with Connor—though mostly about Connor—and the dream was a wonderful respite from my turbulent thoughts.
What’s worse, I spent all of Friday night awake, too. After finishing my homework and walking Mom through her portion of the Academic Olympics paperwork, I considered returning the phone message I’d received from Connor after school. But I needed time to think before I talked to him. I owed him that, and I owed it to myself, too.
Then he showed up on my doorstep.
Forced into a corner—literally, since he was trying to kiss me while I had my back to the wall—fear got the better of me. I couldn’t decide what I wanted fast enough and the decision was taken out of my hands.
I screwed up. Now Connor is gone.
Sometime around two a.m., I realized that while I’m scared of making Tessa’s mistakes, I’m far more scared of having my heart broken. And that’s exactly what I got.
Not that Tessa has noticed the mountain of wadded tissue in the garbage can beside my desk or she’d stop with her giddy bed-rocking.
“What’s the happy occasion?” I ask. “Laundry?”
She flips a hand. “Ha, ha. Very funny. I came to see you! Mom and Dad are still asleep and don’t even know I’m here. I wanted to give you the news first.”
Lucky them. I don’t hide the suspicion in my voice. “What news?”
“Because of you—what you said to me during our last call—I’m going to get my teacher training.” She takes a deep breath, then flops backward to lie next to me, sprawling to take up every inch of free space. Thank goodness I have a queen-sized bed, because I doubt she’d have done any differently if I had a twin. “I’m so happy, Peyton, I had to tell you in person.”
I want to choke her. First for waking me up, and second because I’m so unhappy with my own life. “You drove all the way home from Syracuse to tell me you’re happy? What time did you leave?”
“A little after one a.m., I think. The roads were empty, so it was an easy drive.”
“You’re lucky the cops didn’t bust you for speeding.”
“Such a pessimist.” She shifts closer to me, exaggerating a sigh. “Don’t you want the details?”
No. I love her, I do. But I’m not in the mood. “Since you drove all the way here to tell me, do I have a choice?”
She angles herself so I can see her face without having to move my head from its comfy nesting spot in the pillows. “You may be my little sis, but I’ve learned so much from you. From how you take control of situations, rather than letting situations control you.”
“I don’t know about that.” Exhibit A being the last twenty-four hours of my life.
“But you do. You always have. You’re the queen of common sense.” One side of her mouth curls. “I know you don’t think I’m very practical, but at my core, I have too much of Mom and Dad in me not to be. I might flit off now and again, but one thing I’ve learned through yoga meditation is that I’m only truly happy when I feel secure. Accounting gives me security. I couldn’t imagine majoring in anything else.”
I push up on my elbows, then to a full sit. As much as I crave sleep, I’m awake for the day now. It’s not like I can return to where I left off in dreamland, anyway. “What does all this have to do with me, again?”
“You showed me that I can be as practical about my yoga education as I am with my accounting education.” A timid smile flicks across her face. “Peyton, I got a job. I start Monday.”
“That’s…good?” M
om and Dad are going to kill her.
“Of course it’s good!” She laughs. “I thought a lot about what you said. I had to decide what I really want and then take steps toward that goal without having to rely on Mom and Dad. Like you said, I needed to just do it. I went right out that night and applied for the perfect job. They made the offer yesterday afternoon. I’m working at the front desk of a yoga studio—not Matt’s—registering students for class two nights a week. Even better, I’m helping with their financials, which is something I can do on my own time so it won’t interfere with classes. It’s perfect—I’ll see firsthand how a successful yoga studio’s run, I’ll get more accounting experience, and I’ll be earning money to help pay for teacher training when I’m ready.”