When We Fall

by Madeleine Labitan

  Peyton's face crumples, clearly hurt at his words that for a brief second I feel sorry for her.

  But then I remember what she did, and any sympathy I feel toward her flies out the window. Shaking my head, I leave them to their own drama and go straight to class.

  "Everything okay?" Brayden asks when I settle on my seat next to his.

  "Yeah." I offer a bright smile.

  I have no idea what Liam is up to, why he's acting the way he is. But I'm not going to let his antics get to me. I'm not going to waste time thinking about him anymore.

  But Quinn is not making that easy. After her cheer practice, she goes over to my house and declares that we're having a sleepover.

  "Are you going to tell me about it?" she asks from the floor of my bedroom as she applies pink polish on her toes.

  "Tell you what?" I reply absently, turning another page of the urban fantasy novel I'm reading on my Kindle.

  "About what happened in the locker hall today?" She glances up at me, her brows arched.

  "Oh, that."

  Yeah, of course she knows. I'm actually surprised that she waited this long to grill me about it. She didn't pounce on the subject right away, when normally she'd be all over it.

  "Yeah, that." When I don't say anything, she presses. "Well?"

  "It was nothing. Liam just offered to carry my books. I turned him down. That's all."

  "Don't hold out on me, S," she huffs impatiently. "I know Peyton was there."

  "Yeah, she was." I scrunch up my nose and set the Kindle down on the bed next to me. "But it wasn't like there was a confrontation or whatever. She didn't even say anything."

  "But I heard you said some things to her."

  "Like I said, it was nothing. I just told her not to worry about me stealing Liam from her."

  Quinn throws her head back and laughs. "Are you serious? Oh my God, I can only imagine the look on her face. She must have been so pissed!"

  A smile breaks out from my lips. "Yeah, she kinda was."

  "Ugh. I should've been there." She actually looks a little bummed.

  But if Quinn had been there, she'd have told Liam off before he could even say anything to me. And, in turn, I wouldn't have the chance to say those words to Peyton.

  Yeah, maybe it was a good thing she wasn't there.

  "So, what are you going to do with Liam?"

  "Um, nothing?" What am I supposed to do with him, anyway?

  She gives me a pointed look. "He obviously wants to get back in your good graces. Meaning, he wants you back, Sawyer. Question is, what are you going to do with that information?"

  My shoulders stiffen. "What makes you think he's looking for a reconciliation?"

  "What, did you seriously think he was just being chivalrous when he made that offer?"

  "Of course not." I shoot her an indignant look, then let out a heavy sigh. "I thought he was just feeling guilty. That maybe he wanted to make up for what he did in any capacity he could."

  Quinn scoffs. "If he was only feeling guilty, he'd just make himself scarce. He wouldn't try to get your attention." She shakes her head. "No. That asshole wants you back."

  Can Quinn be right? Does Liam really want to get me back?

  Not that there's a chance in hell that's ever going to happen. Our relationship ended the moment I caught him in that bed with Peyton. No matter how hard he tries to win me over—even if he begs—there's no going back. No picking up where we left off and pretending it didn't happen.

  Because it did and I saw it. And I won't ever forget it.

  I was a clueless idiot when we were still together. I'm not going to make the same mistake again.

  Liam O'Leary can shove his groveling efforts up his ass.

  CHAPTER 10

  Sawyer

  "Dunn, Green, you two will partner for the sit-ups," Ms. Halsteid, our gym teacher, instructs before moving away like she just didn't pair me with the last person I want to partner with.

  Isn't she aware that Peyton and I are no longer on speaking terms?

  "Great. I'm partnered with her." I can feel Peyton's glare at the back of my head.

  Like it was my choice in the first place.

  I whip my head around and return her scathing look. "Trust me, I'd rather be stuck with a lamp post than deal with you."

  That draws a few laughs around us, making her face redden in humiliation. "Let's just get this damn thing over with," she grinds out.

  I walk over to the nearest exercise mat, not caring if she's following or not. Honestly, I'd be happy to do the sit-ups by myself. I don't need her help.

  "Why don't you do the sit-ups first and I'll be the one to brace you? You need it more than me, anyway."

  I stiffen. Did she just call me fat?

  "Well?" She raises a brow.

  Gritting my teeth, I lie down and go into position.

  Peyton holds my feet together. "Don't think for one second that Liam will go running back to you. He just wants to use you to win his friends back."

  This again? When is she going to understand that I don't give a crap about her and Liam? It's getting old now.

  I didn't even ask for drama today. Thanks to Peyton and her apparent insecurities when it comes to Liam, I'm currently getting a large dose of it.

  I sit up, bringing my face close to hers. "You know what, Peyton? You hopelessly believing that I still want anything to do with Liam is starting to get pathetic. At this point, are you really convincing me or yourself? What, did he finally realize that you're actually good for nothing and shouldn't be touched with a ten-foot pole?"

  Her eyes turn to slits, as if she can't believe that I have the audacity to talk to her that way. "We both know he went for an upgrade when he started sleeping with me."

  First, she insinuated that I was fat. Now, she's implying that I'm ugly.

  God, she's a piece of work. How could I have not seen the meanness in her all these years? Looking back, I realize this is not the first time she made those kinds of comments. She simply wasn't as blunt as she is now. No, Peyton has mastered the art of masking insults with compliments. I'd just been blinded by her fake friendship to pay close attention to her words.

  But never again.

  I let out a mocking laugh. "He went for something easy, more like."

  The girls on the mat next to ours gasp dramatically that I almost laugh.

  And judging from the stormy expression on Peyton's face, I just hit a nerve. "You think you're so perfect? You're such a hypocrite, Sawyer. You act like a virginal goody two-shoes, but you're probably fucking Parker all this time."

  Another round of shocked gasps ring out, and this time, I feel my cheeks burn.

  She mentioned Parker. Again. What has he anything to do with this? Specifically, with me? Why does she keep dragging his name into every conversation?

  Then it hits me. Peyton acts like Parker doesn't mean anything to her. But it's starting to look like she wants him just as much as she wants Liam. How messed up is that?

  "Stop projecting your own issues onto me, Peyton. I don't go around deceiving people. And I definitely don't go around sleeping with two guys at the same time. That's your style, remember?"

  "You bitch!" She raises a hand to slap me, but Ms. Halsteid's voice stops her.

  "What's going on here?" Her eyes are narrowed suspiciously at the two of us.

  Schooling my features, I stand up. "Ms. Halsteid, I'm not feeling well. Can I be excused?" I have to get out of here, away from Peyton, before we end up clawing each other's eyes out.

  She hesitates for a moment, then sighs and gives a reluctant nod.

  "Thanks," I mutter, walking away without looking back.

  Quinn's worried face is waiting for me a few meters away. "Is everything okay, S? You seemed to be arguing with Peyton back there. I can't believe Ms. Halsteid paired you two together. Has she been living under a rock?" She pauses and takes a good look at me. "You're leaving, aren't you? Want me to come with you?"

  I s
hake my head. "It's fine and you can't. You have cheer practice, remember?" When she's about to protest, I reassure her. "Seriously, I'm okay. I just have a headache. I think I'll just head home."

  Reluctantly, she nods. "Chat me up later, okay?"

  I simply smile and squeeze her arm, then make my way to the girls' locker room. I don't bother changing out of my gym clothes—I didn't sweat in them, anyway—and just grab my things before heading out into the parking lot.

  I have no idea how long this tension with Peyton will go on, but it's stressing me out and depleting my energy. As much as I don't want to engage, she keeps taunting me, forcing me into a confrontation.

  I hate that we ended up this way. It's the last place I expected us to be, and the fact that we're currently stuck in this awful situation is frustrating the hell out of me. I just want to move forward and put the whole thing behind me.

  "Someone pissed you off, Pretty Girl?" It's Jamie. He's leaning against his gray metallic Mercedes, with a phone in his hand and a cigarette on the other.

  But he's not alone. On his other side is Bennett, mindlessly flipping a coin into the air.

  I arch a brow. "Cutting classes again?"

  It's a regular thing with these guys, and they never get in trouble for it. They're on top of the school's social ladder for a reason. Besides, even if they don't get stellar grades in high school, they'll still end up taking over their parents' business empires. Their future is already secured.

  "Government is fucking boring," Bennett snorts. "And anyway, gorgeous, you're one to talk."

  Touché. "Ms. Halsteid gave me permission to leave early."

  "Ah, the hot gym teacher." He and Jamie exchange a smirk.

  Boys. I suppress an eye-roll. "I'm heading home. See you guys later."

  "Or you can come with us," Bennett says, his baby blue eyes twinkling.

  My eyes narrow suspiciously. "Where?"

  "To Parker's," Jamie distractedly answers, taking a drag on his cigarette even as he types on his phone.

  "I didn't know there was going to be a party."

  "It's not going to be a party, Pretty Girl. It's just going to be us."

  Should I go with them? I don't feel like going home so early, anyway. I just need to get away from Peyton before I strangle her. Gah, she makes me so angry.

  So even though Parker's house seems like an odd choice, I'd rather be there than be in school.

  "Fine, I'll go. But I'm bringing my car so I'll just meet you guys there." I start to move to my car but Bennett grabs my arm.

  He makes a tutting sound. "Girl, you look like you're in no condition to drive. Give me your keys and I'll drive your car there. Jamie can give you a ride."

  I doubt that's true, but if he's offering… "But what about your car?"

  He flashes me a dimpled smirk. "Don't worry about it. I'm just gonna bum a ride from this asshole and get it later."

  Flicking his cigarette to the ground, Jamie opens his passenger side door and tilts his head. "Come on, Pretty Girl. Your chariot's waiting."

  Handing my keys to a still smirking Bennett, I slide into Jamie's Mercedes, wondering how many other girls he'd let into his car. All my fingers combined probably won't even be enough.

  "Gonna tell me who pissed you off?" Jamie asks as he speeds away from school.

  I blow out a breath. "It's Peyton."

  "Ah. The ex-best friend. Sucks to be around her, huh?"

  "That's an understatement," I scoff. "She taunts me all the time, as if taking Liam away from me wasn't enough. Like everything that happened was my fault. I feel like she's shifting all the blame on me. I think she hates me." For some reason, it doesn't feel weird talking to Jamie about it.

  "She doesn't hate you. She hates herself. And she chooses to take it out on you instead of addressing the issue."

  I arch a brow. "Since when did you become a psychologist?"

  "Who said I needed to be a damn expert to know that?" he shoots back. "Anyone with half a brain can see what's going on with that girl. She's got issues."

  I flick my eyes out the window and mutter, "Doesn't anyone?"

  "Yeah, but she's got more. That's why she's fucked in the head. Take it as the friendship version of 'it's not you, it's me.' It's all her. She's just in denial about it."

  My only response is to blink at him. Because what am I supposed to say to that?

  And maybe he's right. Not the "fucked in the head" part, but the "having issues" one. But I don't see how it's my problem. If Peyton is really going through something, she should fix it herself and leave me out of it.

  *******

  "Fuck. Fuck. No!" Bennett groans as his character meets a K.O. fate on the screen. Turning to me, he demands, "How are you kicking my ass in this game?"

  I want to laugh out loud at the baffled expression on his face. Something tells me Bennett King isn't used to losing, let alone to a girl.

  We're in Parker's gaming room. While the guys were talking and joking among themselves, I entertained myself by reading the latest release of E.L. Smith—one of my favorite authors—on my Kindle.

  But then Bennett interrupted and jokingly challenged me to play a round of Street Fighter with him, assuring that he'd go easy on me. Well, several rounds later, he realized that there was no need for that.

  "Quinn's twin brothers play this all the time. Sometimes, when I come over, I play with them."

  He smirks. "Let me guess, you kick their asses, too?"

  I shake my head, biting back a laugh. "No. They kick mine, actually."

  He scowls and low chuckles sound out from behind us.

  "Bennett's the only loser then," Giovanni, who's playing pool with Jamie, snickers.

  "Fuck off, it was just a lucky streak," Bennett snarls at him. To me, he says, "No offense, babe."

  I shrug. "None taken."

  "Someone's salty," Jamie drawls, taking his shot at the pool table. "You should let him win the next round, Pretty Girl, or he'll end up crying."

  Leaning back on my seat, I suppress a smile. It's a little weird being in the presence of the Hot Boys Club—as Quinn calls them—twice in a row without Liam when it had always been the five of them. I guess it only goes to show that they prefer hanging out with Parker than with him. And, maybe to them, he's not much of a loss.

  Flipping Jamie off, Bennett scoots closer and drapes his arm over the couch—almost touching my shoulders—then flashes his dimples at me. "Want to go another round? I'll make it hard for you to beat me this time."

  Clearly, he's trying to charm me.

  I let out a laugh and put the controller down on the coffee table next to his beer. "No, I think I'm done."

  "Come on, just one more."

  I shake my head. "Nope. Still done."

  "But I haven't even won yet," he pouts, making him look adorable.

  I don't think he'll appreciate me calling him that, though. Unless it's exactly what he's going for in order to win me over.

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  "She said she was done." The stern voice comes from behind us, making me jolt.

  I don't have to turn around to know the owner of that voice.

  Parker.

  But now that I think about it, he's only been down here for like five minutes before disappearing for an hour. Where did he go?

  Bennett flicks his gaze over his shoulder then smirks. "So protective."

  "Might want to take your arm off of her if you want to keep your balls intact," Giovanni says.

  Bennett holds his hands up in surrender. "No touching."

  "Why do you guys keep acting weird around me? It's getting annoying," I huff. Moving from the couch, I turn to face Parker. "Can I use your bathroom?"

  He nods then tilts his head to the side, motioning for me to follow.

  Ignoring the weird looks between his friends, I go after him.

  There's no bathroom in the gaming room so we have to climb up the stairs to the main level of the house.

  The wh
ole time I can't help but stare at his backside. He really has a nice build—and he can thank swimming for that. And is it just me or is his ass straining against his jeans?

  Hmm. He has a nice ass.

  But I quickly shake my head. What's wrong with me? Why am I admiring Parker's ass? I shouldn't care for it even if it looks good.

  Really good.

  "Here," he says as we round the corner, pushing open a door just a few meters away from the kitchen.

  The bathroom. Right.

  "Thanks," I mutter, stepping inside and closing the door.

  After relieving my bladder and washing my hands, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, checking that my ponytail is still neatly in place and there's still makeup on my face.

  Not that I want to look pretty for the benefit of the boys.

  Maybe just the one with the nice ass.

  I scowl. "No. Especially not him."

  Stepping out of the bathroom, I don't see Parker anywhere. Did he go back to the gaming room? I'm about to head back when I hear something coming from the kitchen.

  I hesitate for a moment before my curiosity wins out, and I decide to check what's going on.

  It's Parker and—is he making a sandwich? There's a glass next to a pitcher of lemonade, too.

  "Um, hey." I clear my throat. "I thought you already went back."

  "I was waiting for you," he says, not even looking up from what he's doing.

  My eyebrows shoot up. "You were?"

  "I didn't want you to get lost."

  I glare at him. "I'm not dumb."

  He finally glances up, giving me a pointed look. "I didn't say you were."

  Pushing the plate of sandwich he just prepared toward me, he goes to pour some lemonade into the glass before sliding it next to the sandwich.

  I blink at them, then at him.

  He sighs. "Do I need to feed you?"

  I cross my arms over my chest and purse my lips. "I didn't ask you to prepare a snack for me, you know."

  "Just eat, Peaches. You don't want to get drunk on an empty stomach."

  "I told you, it was one time." I glare.

  Does he seriously think that I get drunk on a regular basis? Considering he's been calling me 'Peaches' since that night at the beach, it's probably the case. I didn't even plan on touching alcohol today. Jerk.