by Nia Arthurs
“So,” I began when I got comfortable, “what makes you think that Spencer’s going to propose soon.”
Melody wore a silly grin on her face as she recalled, “We’ve been talking about marriage lately. You know, things like how many kids we want to have, where we want to live after we’re married, and stuff like that. We kept hitting a stalemate because I want to stay here close to you and my family, but his work is in L.A.”
“And what does that have to do with anything.”
“He’s coming here for an entire year. He says it’s for this new venture but I have a feeling it’s a test to see if he can run the company from this side of the Americas.”
I grinned sincerely, “Well, I’m happy for you. Your dad’s going to freak though. He loves you a lot.”
“I know. I remember all those nights you two would argue about love and marriage after one of Daddy’s lectures.”
“Yeah, Mr. Reyes made a lot of sense but I was bent on doing my own thing then.”
“He used to always say, “Girls, if I die tomorrow, I hope that-”
“I’ve equipped you to choose the right partner,” we finished together, laughing hysterically at our terrible Mr. Reyes impressions.
“Do you think you’ve made the right choice?” I asked Melody seriously.
“I do. At first, I thought that maybe I was never going to get over Spencer. Maybe that was God’s way of telling me I was supposed to be single forever.”
Yeah, right, some other gorgeous guy would have snapped her up, but I didn’t mention that.
“But when Spencer and I renewed our relationship I made sure to take Daddy’s advice seriously. I measured Spencer’s heart. I watched how he behaved with his friends and if he treated other women with respect. I watched how he treated animals. I observed his principles, the values that he prioritized. And although I noticed that he works a little too much, I also know that he loves me.”
“Wow, it sounds like you were more of a detective than a girlfriend.”
“Hey, marriage is a big deal. You wouldn’t go to the doctor and ask them to cut out your heart without them doing the proper research and study would you? Forever is a long time and I want to be sure before I commit my life to anyone.”
“Huh, you sure do take the romance out of a love story, Mel,” I teased her, but in reality I wish I had been a little more vigilant with all the partners that I’d chosen over the years. A bit more detective and a little less insecure girlfriend would have meant a world of a difference in the decisions that I made and the people that I chose to sleep with.
“Hey, Mel,” I asked as the night wound down, “Aren’t you scared of the enormity of commitment?”
“What do you mean?” she enquired.
“Look at my parents. They are so miserable; I visit them like once every three months.”
“That’s true. Your parents aren’t the best models for a happy marriage. But the whole business is a pretty big deal. Love comes with risks. Even though I’ve done my best to ensure I’m making the right decision, I may still get my heart broken.”
I hesitated before asking, “So, do you think he’s worth it?”
Melody gazed up at the ceiling in deep thought and then she turned to me. “Yes, Mia. I do.” She confessed.
Soon after, Melody drifted to sleep, probably dreaming of her Prince Charming. I couldn’t sleep for a long time, wondering if my Prince would ever come.
The morning sun blasted into my consciousness with a bright ray of light. Noo… I tried to bury my face in the pillow to keep the beam out, catapulting the sheet over my head for further protection. I called for sleep, but he rejected me.
No, come back sleep, come back.
Ugh. Why did Peyton have to come along with Spencer? His sole purpose in life seemed to focus exclusively on annoying me.
“Rise and shine, Sleepy Head.” Melody was always obnoxiously cheery on Spencer’s visits.
“No!” I disagreed.
Melody laughed, “No is not an option,” she yanked the sheet from my head. “You know you take hours to get ready.”
“Hey! I have a lot to do before I feel presentable.”
Melody unwound the protective silk scarf I wore to preserve my weave. “Exactly. So go get to it. I’m making breakfast.”
I grumbled all the way to the bathroom, during my shower, and while I got dressed. As I padded grudgingly into the kitchen where my little dining room table rested, Melody set down her gourmet breakfast meal of Lucky Charms and milk before me.
“Thank you for making breakfast, dear,” I commented sarcastically.
Melody chucked my chin in reply.
“Eat up, you boob.”
“You suck,” But finding that I was hungry, I took her advice and ate all of the cereal. I then padded to my bedroom to complete my morning makeup routine. Normally, my initial desire was to dress in unflattering clothes. Peyton loved to compliment me and I always wondered if he still would if I dressed like crap and washed all the gunk from my face. I never did sum up the courage to test my theory. I owned a clothing store and I wasn’t going to dress unprofessionally just to get under Peyton’s skin.
As I applied the foundation cream, I thought of my conversation with Mel last night. According to my best friend, it wouldn’t be long before Melody and Spencer got engaged. If the two eventually tied the knot, Peyton would be my (gasp) brother-in-law. The thought horrified me so that I stuck myself in the eye with the mascara wand.
“Crap.”
I cried raccoon tears as I quickly grabbed a tissue to sop up the mess on my face. I can’t live my life with this constant tension between Peyton and I, especially if he’s going to become a permanent part of my existence. Maybe it was time for me to grow up. I could cut Peyton some slack, see if things between us could get a bit better. I had no intentions, however, of putting in any more effort than necessary on behalf of that man. Hopefully, Peyton would wise up sooner rather than later.
I emerged from the bedroom with my face properly shaded and powdered.
“Why do you take so long to do that?” My friend asked from the couch. She was glowing in a teal rumper and leather thong sandals, all from Mia’s Designs of course.
“Stop nagging on me, or I will take out my anger on your boyfriend’s best man. I mean it.”
“You are crazy,” Melody shook her head in laughter.
“I am what I am.” I defended myself.
“Okay, Shakespeare. Let’s get moving.”
I groaned. Was it too much to hope for Peyton to magically disappear or get lost with his luggage?
“Do I have to?”
“Please Mia, be nice. Give Peyton a chance to prove you wrong.”
“Okay, but only for you.” I acquiesced heading out the door and locking my little apartment.
The drive to the airport took less than half-an-hour. After parking, Melody and I got out and crossed the street to enter the automatic doors of the huge building. The Belize Airport was busy as usual. Melody was early as usual. Her excitement could not be contained. It sucked that I couldn’t share in her sentiments about this new phase in her life. Not that she had space for any more enthusiasm right now. We took our seats in the waiting area and chatted about light things until the arrivals poured out of immigration. The moment Melody spotted Spencer’s tall figure in the throng of tourists, she shot up and started running. The chick flung herself into Spencer’s arms and the two started hugging and kissing passionately right there in the crowded terminal.
Yeesh
Peyton sidestepped the pair and caught up to me. “Hey beautiful. Do I get a homecoming kiss too?” he placed his smooth pale cheek before me. This was a Peyton-Mia tradition. It was my turn to slap his face. Lightly or heavily, it depended on my mood. But in the spirit of second chances and non-violence, I did neither and extended my hand instead. I could read the surprise in Peyton’s eyes. For a second he was speechless, but then he grasped my palm.
“Hello, Pey
ton.”
“Hi, Mia.”
“You can let go of my hand now, Peyton.”
He sheepishly did, his confusion annoying me. I could be a decent human being if I put my mind to it. He didn’t have to act so astounded.
“You’re in a good mood today.”
I rolled my eyes, “Don’t push it, Peyton. I could kick your butt if I need to.”
Peyton staggered back, holding a hand to his heart, “Ouch.”
“Did I bruise your ego?”
“Yeah, you did,”
“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not.” I snapped.
“That’s fine. I love an honest woman.”
The man wasn’t in the country an hour yet and I was already irrationally irritated. It was with immense gratefulness that I noticed Spencer weaving his way toward us, his shorter adorably curvy girlfriend tucked deep into his side.
“Time to go!” I said with fake cheer.
“”No problem. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll follow.”
I sucked my teeth at him. “Boi!” I scolded.
As we strolled to the parked car, I noticed eyes following our little interracial group. I couldn’t decide if the attention was due to the pale skin of the guys, because the guys were so incredibly good looking, or the fact that Spencer and Melody needed to get married so they could get a motel room. It probably was the latter. Not that Spencer and Peyton didn’t hold their fair share when it came to looks.
I’m not into white boys, but even I have to admit that both were prime of examples of beauty transcending color. Spencer had the whole dark, mysteriously broody Asian thing going on and Peyton, well Peyton was a hunk. I’m not blind. One would think that burnt orange, reddish looking hair and pale skin would make a man look too pretty. But he blasted all such sentiments out of the water. He was tall and broad, not too muscular but not wimpy either with a chiseled face created to inspire female swoons and his eyes, Lord have mercy, Peyton had the most amazing blue eyes. Think of a younger Chris Hensworth with run-your-hands-through-it auburn hair.
Not that I cared particularly. These were simple visual observations that any woman would process.
Still, Peyton and Spencer were both worthy of a second and third look. I just wish the glances didn’t make me feel like a side show in a circus.
CHAPTER THREE
Sky’s restaurant was five miles away from the airport and Spencer and Melody always ate their first meal together there. So by rote, Peyton and I were thrown together and I usually had to endure two hours of being alone with him as he flirted with me and tried roping me into conversation. It was torture every time.
Why couldn’t Peyton be ugly or stupid or just not so well-spoken?
His affable charm meant I had to put extra effort into holding up my walls so I didn’t fall for his games. Melody always assured me that I didn’t have to eat alone with him, but I knew she was just being considerate. No couple wants to share their first hour together after being apart, with people that are constantly fussing.
Peyton and I slid into a booth facing each other. This would normally be the time that I pulled out my phone and played Candy Crush to avoid eye contact. Peyton would clear his throat and inform me that I was being rude and then we would find a creative topic to fight about. Today, I decided to throw him off again.
I noticed when he glanced from my phone resting face down on the booth table and back to me. I almost cracked up at how uncomfortable he looked without our usual banter. If I had known killing him with niceness would actually work, I would have done it long ago.
The waitress came to take our orders. I already knew what Peyton wanted. He loved Belize’s fried chicken, claiming that the chicken in the States could not compare. We placed our orders and the waitress left.
“So Mia,” Peyton leaned in and lowered his voice, “Are you finally ready to stop pretending that you hate me and admit that we’re mutually attracted.”
Excuse me? That went from a 0 to a 100 really quickly.
“Peyton,” I chuckled from the sheer incredulity of his statement, “I am not attracted to you. I will never be attracted to you. You are not my type.”
Peyton frowned, “Because I’m white?”
“Your skin tone has nothing to do with it.”
“If you say so,” he intoned; the suggestion that I was lying hid just behind his words. I recognized that he was baiting me and sidestepped the mine that would have erupted into an argument. He pushed the issue. “But are you open to guys of different ethnicities?”
He seemed genuinely interested so I decided to answer honestly.
“I’m open. I just prefer black guys.”
“Have you ever dated outside your race?”
“No, I’ve only dated dark-skinned men.”
He pondered my response and then quipped, “Then I don’t see how you can say that you’re open.”
Argh! This man knew all of my buttons and he pushed them with enthusiasm.
“Look, I’m trying to be civil here. Either you meet me half-way or…”
He leaned back in the booth, “Wow. I didn’t realize you’d had a change of heart toward me.”
“It was more along the lines of getting guilt tripped by my best friend.”
The food arrived at that moment halting all conversation, and after a quick prayer, I dived in. Peyton respectfully paused with me before eating his fried chicken. I started to feel bad about snapping at him earlier. By now the man’s frankness should not disturb me.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Peyton quipped.
“What?” I faced him.
“You look like you’re thinking real hard over there. Mind you hurt yourself.”
I folded my arms, “Are you saying that I’m so dull, I’m unaccustomed to the process of thinking?”
“Whoa!” Peyton threw up one hand, using the other to wipe his mouth with a napkin, “I never said all that. I know what it means when your forehead gets those cute little grooves in the middle. I offered to listen if you want to talk.”
I crossed my arms, “You don’t know me, Peyton, so don’t pretend that you do.”
“Au contraire, Mia Johnson. I know you very well.”
I arched an eyebrow in challenge.
He accepted it with a cocky smile. “Your favorite color is purple because the first dress you ever designed and sewed was from a purple cloth you found at Malic’s Fabric Store.”
Wait, how did he know that?
My arrogance turned shaky as he continued, “You love anything chocolate; it can have fruits, nuts, marshmallows in it or around it, as long as it’s chocolate.”
Now, the guy was just freaking me out.
“And when you lie, you have a tell.”
I had him now. “I do not have a tell!”
He smirked, “You bite your lip when you’re being dishonest. It’s quite sexy actually.”
I gasped as he chuckled at my expression. “I do not bite my lip. And you’re not allowed to find me sexy.”
“That’s too bad. I find almost everything about you sexy.”
Whoa, the man had lyrics. I can’t admit to being unaffected, but I definitely wasn’t going to give Mr. Charming here the benefit of saying that he got Mia Johnson to buy into his load of crap. I changed the subject.
“How do you know so much about me?”
He pierced me with his crystal blue stare, “I think the better question is: why don’t you know anything about me?”
“I know some stuff about you. You’re an American. You work with Spencer. You tricked Spencer into buying my designs on your behalf so you could give them to your mom.”
I still hadn’t gotten over that.
“I wasn’t sure if you would have given them to me. I knew your work was worth the subterfuge.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, “Normal people just ask.”
“Normal people don’t hate people’s guts for no reason.” Peyton shot back.
“My soul doesn’t take to you. I
don’t see why that’s a big deal.”
“You’re lying.” Spencer pointed to my mouth. Indeed, my teeth were subconsciously worrying my bottom lip. “You’re intentionally keeping me at arm’s length.”
Frustrated at the back and forth of the conversation, I plopped my burger unceremoniously back in my plate.
“Okay, look.” Peyton focused intently on me, a smirk playing with his thin lips. “More than likely our people are getting married soon,”
His face paled, “Spencer told you?”
“No, but Melody already suspects. The point is we’re going to be in each other’s lives for a while so if this thing is going to become permanent, we need some ground rules.”
“Ground rules?”
“Yes. I realize now that maybe there’s more that I can learn about who you are.”
“True,” Peyton agreed,
“So, I’m prepared to put my intense dislike for you aside,-”
Peyton blew out a breath and sarcastically quipped, “How did I get to be so lucky.”
I shot him a dark look and continued, “I’m putting our differences aside and giving us a shot at a civil acquaintance.”
“Wow, a civil acquaintance. Is this how you charm all the boys? Or just me?”
I rolled my eyes, “Take it or leave it, Lowry.”
“Before I agree to this proposition,” I narrowed my eyes at his word choice but he ignored me, “What are the rules of engagement?”
“Easy. Rule number one, I’m always right. Rule number two, stop trying to flirt with me, it’s painful to watch. Rule number three-”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Peyton protested, “If these are negotiations, I need to amend these rules. First of all, you can’t always be right. We can take turns,”
I frowned, “That’s not the point.”
“Honey, you can’t always be right. Next, I don’t flirt. Not with you. Every word I say is genuine. I’m sorry that it’s painful for you, but it’s not my problem if you can’t take a compliment.”
I was quickly coming to realize that any kind of civility with Peyton Lowry would be hard-earned and difficult.