“Hey! I can’t believe you said that. You know that I need your reference for when I apply for management positions.” Madilynne let out a huff.
“Relax, Mads. Just make sure you’re here by the end of next week. This’ll be fun. It’ll be good to have you back in Daylesford,” Peyton said as she picked up the fallen chair. Another deafening rumble filled the air, much closer to where Peyton stood.
“You are the only reason why I’m looking forward to coming home. Mum and Dad complaining that I didn’t become a doctor or a lawyer—or even worse, a politician—is not one of them. Seriously, Peyton, I’m going to hang up now. I will not be an accessory to your death by natural elements. I’ll see you soon and please hurry up and get inside. Don’t think I won’t call someone to make you,” Madilynne warned.
“You’re so dramatic. I’ll see you when you come home. Don’t forget to call me when you’ve passed Ryder’s spot.”
A loud crash had Peyton looking over to see that the gate had flown open.
“I’ll call you from Ryder’s,” Madilynne confirmed before they both hung up.
Ryder’s spot was a short pole on the side of the highway that marked the exact spot where Daniel Ryder had walked almost ten kilometres—drunk—before passing out. The next day, his friends had placed a pole and the exact beer can he had held in his hand to mark the spot. Ryder was famous in town for it, but he had no recollection of it. It was the night he’d drunk away the memory of his girlfriend leaving him. It also became a saying: “Do a Ryder, walk a tenner.”
Turning around, Peyton walked back into the kitchen and placed her phone on the bench. Another bang of the gate had her sighing. If the latch was broken, it would be a sleepless night with the noise.
Leaving the house, she walked towards one of the chairs and picked it up before going down the steps to the shed. Rain drenched her and the wind hit her hard. By the time Peyton placed the chair inside the shed, she had to wipe her face with her cold hands. She panted, trying to get her breath back.
After another roll of thunder, she ran back to the porch to retrieve another chair. She continued to do this until all six chairs were stacked away. In the end, her ponytail was dripping wet and her body started to shiver. Exiting the shed, Peyton looked over at the swinging gate. She debated, deciding to leave it and get back inside the warm house. The gate could be fixed later when the rain had lightened.
A glimpse of a shadow caught her eye and Peyton stopped. Glaring, she saw a black cat sitting on the grass. It was Mrs West’s cat, Mr Lucky. He was a strange cat, hated the sun but loved the rain. Peyton knew Mrs West would be looking for him and decided to return him.
While approaching the gate, Peyton didn’t take her eyes off the cat. She walked slowly, ensuring she didn’t startle it.
Then she raised her hands up and said ever so slowly, “Hey, Mr Lucky. You’re far from home. Let me take you back so you can get warm.”
The cat lifted its head before it meowed at her. She ignored her shivers and slowly walked towards Mr Lucky, smiling when he didn’t immediately run from her. Peyton carefully stopped in front of him then placed her hands on her knees and bent down.
“Who’s the good cat? Come here,” Peyton said and started to reach for him.
Mr Lucky let out another meow before he bolted past Peyton and into her backyard.
“Damn cat!” she cursed. “You get back here, you little shit!”
Peyton quickly turned around and saw Mr Lucky sitting in the middle of her garden—smirking—before she just caught a glimpse of the gate swinging towards her and then saw black.
“You two have never kissed before? Like, never?” Martha asked, disbelieving. She sculled back her beer and placed it on the ground, next to her feet.
Martha Downs was the daughter of the town’s sergeant. Her being invited to their bonfire parties was mainly because she could get anyone off the hook if they were caught drinking underage. However, most things in town were overlooked or ignored. If you stirred up trouble, then the law book would be handed to you.
Peyton turned her head and stared at Callum, who was watching the fire intently. She looked back at Martha and shook her head.
“No. We’re best friends,” Peyton simply stated.
Martha’s mouth gaped and her forehead creased as she looked at Peyton in disbelief before she pointed at a couple near a tree. “See, Taylor and Kenny are just friends and they’re making out. You guys are constantly around each other. The way you both act… You’re like a couple.”
Peyton let out a nervous laugh. Sometimes she believed they could be a couple. She’d had that belief since she was thirteen, when he’d held her hand as they walked down Main Street, but she had thought too much into it.
“We’re just—”
“Why don’t you both just kiss? Show us all that you’re both just friends,” Martha said, cocking her brow and interrupting Peyton.