Dating My Best Friend (Redefining Me Book 1)

by Michelle MacQueen

  “Honestly, you should be more careful about what you eat,” Ashley said, giving Peyton a disgusted look.

  “It’s only a—” But the girls wouldn’t let her finish.

  “Seriously, it’s for your own good,” Veronica said with a snicker as they drifted off to their first period classes.

  Peyton struggled to swallow the bland offensive bite.

  “Silly me,” she muttered. “I forgot I’m not allowed to eat in public.” She wiped her mouth, staring at the perfect slim figures of Twin Rivers High’s resident mean girls. It didn’t matter she was starving. It didn’t matter she was eating something healthy on the go. Fat people didn’t get to eat like other people. In peace and without shame.

  “How much weight have you lost, Peyton?”

  Peyton winced at the sound of a kind voice. Katie Whitmore. Undoubtedly, the quietest girl in their school—but she still somehow managed to also be one of the nicest people Peyton had ever met.

  “Twenty-eight pounds,” Peyton said. “And apparently not enough.”

  “You look great,” Katie said. “Keep up the good work, and don’t let the mean girls tear you down. You’re almost there.” She beamed a big smile at Peyton before she left for her first class.

  “Thanks.” I think. Almost there? What did that even mean? Almost small enough to be considered a real person again? Where was that invisible line between normal and unacceptably fat? In Peyton’s grief, she’d missed the day she’d crossed that line.

  It was like she’d fallen into the twilight zone. Somehow her weight gain had pushed her into an alternate world where it was suddenly okay to insult a person to their face—for their own good. A world where even the nicest people, with the best intentions, gave backhanded compliments.

  With a sigh, Peyton tossed the other half of her breakfast into the trash, wishing she lived in a simple world where it was okay to just be herself, no matter her size.

  “You’re late,” Ms. Miller snapped when Peyton shuffled into her second period English lit class a moment after the bell. “Take a seat.”

  “Sorry.” This was the worst part of her school day. As luck would have it, she was stuck sitting between the two people she wanted to avoid like the plague. Neither Cameron nor Julian met her gaze as she slid into her seat between them. They each worked hard not to speak to one another throughout the period, but it ruined her favorite subject.

  Halfway through the class, Peyton’s stomach growled, and she had trouble focusing on Ms. Miller’s lecture, thinking about the banana and almonds she had stashed in her locker for her afternoon snack.

  Finally, she raised her hand. “May I have the hall pass?”

  With a nod from Ms. Miller, Peyton darted into the hall. She grabbed her snack from her locker and ducked into the bathroom.

  She was going to regret this later when she was starving again, but she had to put something in her stomach, or she wasn’t going to make it to her bland lunch of dry tuna and a small salad with a tiny portion of avocado and no dressing.

  Peyton propped her feet up on the bathroom stall door and let out a sigh. Munching on her banana and almonds in peace. Score! There’s no fat shaming when you eat on the toilet. She thought about eating lunch in there later, just for the peace and quiet, when she heard the bathroom door open. She saw Addie through the crack in the stall and stilled her movement. She wasn’t in the mood for another humiliating slap in the face from her former friend.

  Retching noises surprised her as Addie coughed and gagged in the next stall until she finally threw up.

  Oh, Addie, what are you doing to yourself? Addison had always demanded perfection in her life. She was the ideal beauty in every possible way, but it never seemed good enough for Addison. Was this how she attained that level of perfection? Peyton stared at her banana, thinking for a moment that maybe she was doing it wrong.

  Seriously, Peyton? She chastised herself for even thinking about it. No amount of skinny was worth that price.

  Just when Addie came up for air after purging the contents of her stomach, Peyton’s bag of almonds slipped off her lap and onto the floor. No!

  “Who’s there?” Addison demanded, charging out of her stall.

  “Sorry.” Peyton sighed as she stepped out.

  Addison rushed to the sink to wash her hands and wipe her mouth. Peyton eyed the telltale teeth marks along Addison’s knuckles.

  “Addie,” Peyton whispered, taking a cautious step forward.

  “What? I don’t feel good.” She shrugged, refusing to meet Peyton’s gaze.

  “Seriously, Addie? Why are you doing this to yourself? It’s not worth it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She focused on reapplying her lip gloss and then caught sight of the bag of almonds in Peyton’s hand.

  “Oh my God, really? You skipped out of class to eat in the bathroom?” She laughed, grabbing her purse off the bathroom counter. “You’re pathetic, Peyton.” She shoved past her, leaving Peyton alone wondering if maybe she was right.

  After another silent lunch sitting with Katie Whitmore, Peyton was exhausted. The only person who seemed to be having a harder time of it was Julian. He sat alone in the cafeteria while his fellow seniors pelted him with paper, bits of food, and hateful comments. But Julian maintained an uncaring aura, reading his book with his feet up on the seat beside him like he didn’t have a care in the world. They couldn’t touch him.

  If only she had it that easy.

  As Peyton left to dump her trash, wishing for a cup of coffee to get her through the rest of the day, she heard Ashley’s hateful voice.

  “Why did he come back? I can’t believe he’s even showing his face here. We are all still mourning Cooper’s death, and he’s just an unwelcome reminder of what we’ve lost.”

  “Yeah,” Addison absently agreed. “What a loss.”

  Peyton’s blood boiled. She was so angry with Julian for leaving and for refusing to tell her anything about that night. But he was still her brother, and she still wanted to come to his defense and put Ashley in her place. How dare she try to own even a portion of the loss Peyton’s whole family suffered with Cooper’s death?

  But Peyton wasn’t strong enough for that kind of confrontation, so she put her head down and rushed for the cafeteria exit just as the bell rang. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, she charged through the swinging doors and barreled right into Cameron.

  He grabbed her arms, steadying her on her feet. “You okay?” he asked.

  For a moment, the last eighteen months vanished, and Cameron’s touch made her shiver in anticipation of his kiss. And then something broke inside her, freeing the rage she’d fought to suppress only moments before. “No! I’m not okay.” She shoved him back a step. “Not that you even care!” she shouted as students poured into the halls. She shoved him again. It felt good. “How could you do it, Cameron? Huh?” It felt good to scream. She stepped toward him, but he clutched her arms.

  “Peyton. No,” he said. “Not here.”

  “Really? Not here?” She shouted louder this time. “What? You don’t want everyone to know how you kissed me that night? How you told me you loved me, and then you just left? For eighteen months?” She pulled away from his grip, her eyes filling with tears. “You were supposed to be my best friend, Cameron Tucker.” Her voice trembled as the hallway grew quiet and everyone stared. “My brother died! Julian left, and my entire world fell apart.” She took a step back. “And you want to know the worst part?” She shook her head in disgust. “I learned my best friend—the boy I’d loved my whole life—was nothing but a coward.” She stumbled back, unable to bear the hurt look on his face. Peyton whirled around and walked away, careless of the stares and murmurs following her. She’d had enough for one day.

  6

  Cameron

  ~ Cam,

  Please don’t hate me.

  Peyton ~

  Nothing but a coward.

  Peyton didn’t know the truth in he
r words. Cam stood frozen in the hallway as students poured from the lunchroom, their cacophony of laughter keeping him in place. He wasn’t one of them. He didn’t know if he’d ever feel like one of them again.

  Coward.

  Coward.

  Coward.

  The word latched on to the synapses in his brain, firing over and over until it was all he heard.

  Coward.

  His gaze lingered on the end of the hall where Peyton stood, her face hidden behind the door of her locker. When his parents first told him he couldn’t come home all those months ago, he’d been relieved. He hadn’t been ready to face the town, face Peyton.

  His best friend needed him, and he’d abandoned her.

  As time went on, the training and rehab hardened both his body and his mind. He’d been taught to ignore the pain constantly rocketing up his leg. But that hadn’t been the only feeling he’d learned to avoid.

  Being away got easier until the distance gave him a sense of peace, a sense of calm. The best way to keep from having to face everything he’d lost was to stay away.

  When his trainer told him there was nothing more they could do to help him, his mother allowed him to return home. The facility he’d lived at for eighteen months was never meant to house anyone indefinitely. Especially when the athlete no longer had the promise they’d known him for.

  Cameron Tucker had once been meant for greatness.

  He hitched his bag higher on his shoulder and ducked around a group of girls congregating outside a classroom.

  “I’m not a coward,” he mumbled to himself as he walked through the atrium and pushed through the heavy glass doors. At least, he didn’t want to be. There was only one thing he could do to prove to himself he was better than that.

  His leg ached as he walked across the empty lawn of Twin Rivers High. Students weren’t allowed outside during the school day. He scanned the parking lot for the rent-a-cop usually on duty, but she wasn’t there.

  His too-bright car sat near the back. He’d been late for the third time in the first week of school, but he couldn’t tell anyone why. He still hadn’t managed to streamline his mornings. Before leaving the training facility, they’d fitted him for a new leg, one that could be covered completely by any pair of pants. It even had a foot that looked real if you didn’t peer too closely.

  It didn’t have the same functionality for running as blade runners, but at the time, he’d been faced with the prospect of seeing everyone he’d left behind. Being able to hide the extent of his injury seemed more important.

  Pulling his bag from his shoulder, Cam unzipped it and fished around for his keys. As soon as he found them, he used the electronic fob to unlock the doors and wasted no time in climbing into the back seat.

  Peyton’s box sat in the carpeted foot well as it had since the day he got the car. Cam ran a hand over the smooth wood, letting his fingers drift under the latch.

  Not a coward.

  Not a coward.

  The repeated phrase replaced Peyton’s words in his mind. He lifted the lid.

  Three bulging envelopes rested in the unfinished oak interior. Each was labeled. He read them aloud. “You. Me. Us.”

  A note sat below the envelopes. He pulled it free, recognizing Peyton’s familiar scrawl. A smile tilted his lips.

  As he read the note, he could almost hear Peyton’s voice in his mind.

  If you’re reading this, I’ve already admitted how I feel about you. I hope you don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me. You’re my best friend. I know you don’t feel the same way, but we’ve always been honest with each other.

  She’d been wrong. He had felt the same way when he’d kissed her that night. But she’d written the note before that. He rubbed his eyes, willing away the images of her in that tree fort, her cheeks red from the cold.

  You probably think this present is stupid, but it was this or some dumb tie, and I’ve never seen you wear a tie. Oh my God, I should have gotten the tie, right?

  Well, I’m sorry, but I spent weeks on this, so no turning back now.

  You’re going to do amazing things, Cameron Tucker, but only if you believe it as much as I do. That’s what this present is about. Whenever you’re down or fighting with your dad, when you get a bad running time or lose a sponsorship, read one of the notes in these envelopes.

  There are three kinds.

  You: These are the things I think you need reminded of about yourself and what you can do.

  Me: These are the things I love about you.

  Us: I just want to make you smile with our favorite jokes or memories.

  That’s it, I guess.

  Again, please don’t hate me. I can take it if you don’t have feelings for me, but I can’t take losing you.

  Love, Pey.

  Cam’s hands shook as he folded the letter once more. I can’t take losing you. Yet she had. But she wasn’t the only one. Cameron Tucker lost himself.

  And he didn’t know if he could ever return.

  He reached for the envelope with “You” written across the front. Inside were many tiny slips of paper. Each said something different.

  “Just one,” he whispered to himself. He wanted to prove he could face everything he should have confronted eighteen months ago, but it wouldn’t happen all at once. Baby steps.

  He held the slip out in front of him. The words jumped on the paper until his vision cleared and the words hit him.

  Behind all the stress of the competition and your crazy dad, remember this: above all, you love to run.

  He closed his eyes, picturing himself in the last meet he’d ever competed in. The feel of the icy wind slapping him in the face. The vibrations racing up his legs with each step. When he ran, he never saw the finish line until he was there. At least, that was how it used to be, before the Olympics became a possibility. Before his father, a failed Olympic hopeful himself, took over Cam’s training.

  Even after the accident, he’d rehabbed and trained at an Olympic facility. Everyone present was there for one reason: to win.

  While getting used to the new leg, running only brought pain. Eventually, Cam stopped associating it with anything good. It was only something that had been taken from him.

  The final bell rang, signaling Cam was once again late for class. He slid from the car and slammed the door, the slip of paper still clutched in his hands.

  Shoving it in his pocket, he re-entered the school.

  By the time his last class was over, Cam had read Peyton’s words more times than he could count. He wouldn’t remember a single thing taught in class that afternoon, but it didn’t matter.

  Above all, you love to run.

  He did. Once upon a time, he’d loved it. It was a part of him.

  He stepped into the locker room and changed into a pair of sweats he’d insisted on wearing for gym—despite the teacher’s protests. There was no way he’d have worn shorts.

  He left his bag inside, but he took the note from his pocket and stretched it flat against his palm as he walked outside and around the corner of the field house. The track sat like a beacon, calling to him with its chaos.

  That was what running was to him. Complete and utter chaos. Pounding hearts. Dripping sweat. Thundering feet. The din blocked out everything else.

  He’d been wrong when he thought he wanted the peace distance brought. He’d never been made for calm.

  He opened the gate in the chain-link fence and crossed the grassy area next to the long jump pit to where the bleachers shone in the sun. He propped his false foot up on the bottom step, making sure his balance would hold, and began his stretches.

  Once he felt loose, he stepped onto the spongy track. A few football players had already made it to the field in the center of the track, but Cam barely noticed them as he set his feet against the familiar white line of the starting point.

  He could hear the announcers in his head. Cameron Tucker, Twin Rivers own running superstar, makes his way around the curve, letting the
pack envelope him before making his move. The entire state has been behind this young man, and we expect big things from him.

  During his first few weeks of rehab, Cam had watched his most recent meet incessantly. He’d been unable to grasp the simple fact that it was over, gone in the space of a single night.

  But now, all these months later, as he stood on the same starting line he’d known for years, preparing to run the familiar course, the announcer’s voice faded away, and it was just him.

  He bent forward, inhaling as he prepared for the chaos he craved. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, all he saw was the path in front of him. As if a starting horn blasted through his mind, he jolted forward, his feet crashing into the lane.

  Pain seared up his thigh from where his prosthetic connected, but it only increased the havoc he’d wanted. Anything could happen out on a track. Nothing occurred the same way twice. There were no predictions, no assumptions.

  Cam curled into the turn, his heart pounding like a jackhammer trying to crack his chest.

  And it only served as a reminder that his heart was still there. He’d often wondered if he’d lost the ability to enjoy anything anymore. Maybe his heart had drifted to the bottom of Defiance Falls in the crash.

  But there it was.

  Above all, you love to run.

  A cool breeze blew the hair from his forehead. As he powered down the straightaway, his eyes found familiar blue orbs. She didn’t smile or acknowledge him, but she continued to watch him.

  He didn’t know what she saw. Did she wonder why his speed was so diminished? Did she see that his stride was out of balance or that he needed to use more force to push off his false foot?

  He shook his head and kept going, turning his back to her. He may have loved the chaos of running, but Peyton brought that chaos into every other part of his life.

  One step at a time.