Leaning her back against the wood, she tilts her head to the side and says, “Look, I’m not claiming we never hooked up. We did, often, but not until last year. It never really meant anything, other than blowing off steam. But he never… not once… looked at me the way he looks at you.” She taps her palm against the door. “The way he’s always looked at you.”
I can’t help but laugh softly at the slightly mystified look on her face. For all of Lauren’s shortcomings, and Lord knows the girl has many, she’s honest to a fault. I can almost respect that.
Glancing toward the window, I lift my chin and say, “And just now, out there?”
“Simply a hug between friends,” she says, somewhat wistfully. “I got a call from home that made me sad, and Justin found me. He knows a bit about it, so he offered his shoulder. That’s all.” Holding up three fingers, she vows, “Girl Scout’s honor.”
At her playful smile, I let out a breath, feeling the fight leave with it.
The misunderstanding today is on me. I saw Lauren and Justin together, read into it what our pasts dictated, and jumped to conclusions. I can admit when I’m wrong, and I truly believe that’s what happened—this time.
As for freshman year, I’m convinced Justin didn’t cheat. But Lauren’s wrong when she says nothing happened. He lied to me. He purposefully set out to hurt me, and whether he got cold feet at the end or not, that’s exactly what he did. Because of his choices, and because of that pain, I turned too early to the one place I felt I belonged and lost yet another thing I loved. Racing.
He owes me answers.
Nodding to myself, I stand from the bed. “I need to find Justin.”
Lauren opens the door for me and steps back, motioning for me to pass. As I cover the distance between us, I know we’ll never be friends. We’re two very different people, and beyond the whole Justin drama, I don’t like the way she treats people. Plain and simple. But today, she helped me. She didn’t have to, but she did.
Stopping in front of her, I hold out my hand like a dork. “Thanks. I appreciate… this.”
Lauren looks down with a smirk and awkwardly gives my hand a shake. “Make him happy, yeah?”
I don’t say yes. I don’t know what the future holds for us, and after that confession, Lauren deserves honesty. What I do say is, “I hope you find your happiness, Lauren.”
She smiles softly and looks away, and I set off to find Justin.
JUSTIN
GALVESTON BEACH HOUSE 11:42 A.M.
Peyton flies out the door like Cerberus the three-headed dog is chasing her. She swings her gaze from side to side, hopefully looking for me, and I wipe my hands on my board shorts.
“Nothing happened,” I call out, and she skids to a halt. I wait until she finds me hiding in the gazebo, and once she does, I say it again. “Nothing happened with Lauren. Either time.”
She nods and says, “I know.”
Her voice rings with the quiet calm that comes from knowing the truth—but it’s also laced with hurt, and that keeps me from feeling any better. I’d hoped that hearing what really happened back then would make a difference; that it’d be enough for us to build on. But clearly, she still needs answers, reasons for the why, and she deserves them, too.
Peyton steps into the gazebo and gives it a cursory glance before pinning me in place with her eyes. “Lauren told me about the setup freshman year.” I swallow as she takes a seat across from me on the circular bench and fists her hands around the seat. “Why would you do that?” She lifts a shoulder in confusion. “I just… I can’t wrap my brain around it, Justin. Did I do something wrong? Did I push you for too much? What? Help me understand why you would do that to me.”
“Because I was an asshole,” I say, leaning my head back against a plank. Her mouth pinches at the past tense description and I huff a humorless laugh. “Okay, I’m still an asshole.”
Damn, this went a whole lot easier in my imagination. I’ve had three years to think this through, to choose the perfect words to explain my stupidity. But right now, seeing her stare at me with eyes filled with hurt, I have nothing. Just my heart with her name on it, and too many years of regret.
I scrub a hand across my face. “I panicked. It’s no excuse, I know, but it’s the truth. I warned you I sucked at relationships. I made a mistake, Peyton, and the second I saw your face that day, I knew it. But by then, it was already too late.”
“Why not just talk to me?” she asks, leaning forward on the bench. “Before or after. You could’ve told me you were panicking. Hell, I was, too! We would’ve figured it out together. Even if we decided to stop seeing each other, it would have been better than… than what you did. How that felt? God, Justin, I hope you never have to feel that. It destroyed me, and I can’t help thinking that if you had just come to me—”
“I was in love with you.”
I take a breath and give her an apologetic shrug. “I was in love with you, and too chicken-shit to say it, but I was. And I knew you loved me. If I’d told you that I thought we needed a break, that I’d almost ruined both our lives and that I thought moving on was what was best for you, you would’ve tried to talk me out of it.”