CHAPTER FIVE
All the lighthearted fun of their jog around the reservoir had evaporated between one sip of water and the next. Peyton had no idea what had happened, but it must have had something to do with graduation and everything that had gone down that day. Lately she’d been wanting to thank Nick for standing by her that day, but she hadn’t wanted to conjure the ghost of Jack Cooper. The perfect moment still hadn’t come up, and now things were suddenly weird.
Maybe there was no perfect moment.
As they cooled down near the parking lot after their jog, she seized the moment. “You know, since we’re kind of on the topic, there is one thing I want to say. Have wanted to, for a while. I wanted to thank you for being such a rock that day. I never would have gotten through my speech without you.”
He lifted his eyes to meet hers. With his knees bent, hands resting on them, cords of muscle running under his sun-browned skin, damp hair swinging to his jaw, he was so sexy her mouth watered. And maybe now that she’d thanked him, the weirdness between them would go away.
Except that he didn’t seem all that impressed with her gratitude.
“A rock?” he said with a lift of one eyebrow. “Is that good?”
“Of course it’s good. Jeez. Why wouldn’t it be good? It’s a phrase people use to refer to someone solid and reliable.”
“Right.” He got to his feet, thigh muscles flexing. Had he always been this attractive? Why the heck hadn’t she paid more attention back in high school? “Also, a rock doesn’t have feelings.”
She stared as he approached his mountain bike. “You have feelings about what happened?”
“Yup. I hated it. I hated that everyone always made excuses for Jack.”
He said Jack’s name deliberately, as if making a point. But what point? Jack was Jack. And he was history.
“Look, I don’t want to dig up the past. I just wanted to thank you.”
He picked up his bike and swung one long leg over it. “You want to thank me?”
“Yes. Of course. That’s all I wanted to do—”
“Then come to the reunion.”
“What?” She took a step back in dismay, nearly knocking over her bike. “Why? Why is it so important that I go?”
“Because, Peyton, you were our valedictorian. Our high achiever. You should be there. You don’t have to come with me, that was just a crazy—”
“No.” She cut him off. “I want to go with you. You were there for me that day. If this is the best way to thank you, of course I’ll do it. And you know, it’ll probably be easier to see everyone if I have a friend with me.”
He nodded and pushed off toward the path. She could have sworn she heard him mutter something under his breath. Something about rocks and friends.
Fine. She’d be extra careful never to call Nick a “rock” again.
Nick picked her up in his Jeep a few nights later. She was still staying with her parents because she hadn’t had a chance to find her own place yet. Her mother giggled at Nick as if he were a prom date. He looked good, Peyton had to agree. He wore a dark blazer and a crisp white shirt. His hair curled behind his ears and she spotted a tiny fleck of shaving cream on the smooth planes of his jaw.
As soon as they achieved escape velocity from her mother and were headed down the front walk, she reached up and blotted it with her finger. The feel of his warm skin sent a buzz of awareness through her.
He cast her a questioning glance.
“Shaving cream,” she explained. “Either that or marshmallow fluff.”
“Oh my God. I forgot about marshmallow fluff.”
“You forgot? Nick Kolanowski, you ate banana and marshmallow fluff sandwiches every day of seventh grade.”
“I probably ate my quota. Haven’t touched them since.”
He opened the door for her—such an old-school move. This wasn’t even a date, strictly speaking.
Although she had obsessed endlessly about what to wear.
The theme of the reunion was “Vintage Fun.” Guests could either dress vintage, bring their favorite vintage, or ignore the theme altogether. Peyton had agonized and fretted and consulted with Maria, who was on the committee and had the four-one-one on everything. She’d ended up with the low-risk, high-reward choice of an LBD. You could never, ever go wrong with a little black dress, although tragically, black was not her color. It always made her look as if she had jaundice or scurvy, as if she needed mega doses of Vitamin C administered into her bloodstream.
“You look great,” said Nick as he ushered her into the passenger seat.
“That’s kind, but I know this dress doesn’t do anything for me. I’d change, but that would mean freaking out my mother all over again. It’s a good thing this isn’t a date, you know?”
He shot her a sideways look. “Well, even though this isn’t a date, I got you this. I hope it works with your outfit.” He reached into the backseat and came up with a corsage made of two fresh irises, their clear blue-purple petals glowing in the light of the dash.
“Wow, that’s…that’s perfect!” She took the corsage and pinned it next to the neckline of her dress. She opened the visor to check the mirror. “I don’t look like a blood-letting victim anymore. That blue is absolutely perfect, it breaks up my funeral theme.”
He laughed and started the Jeep. “Glad you like it. But I gotta say, I didn’t pick up on the blood-letting problem. It must be a medical degree thing. I really do think you look great.”
“I do love a compliment,” she teased him. “Especially from a cute guy in a dinner jacket.”
Was that a blush she saw on his strong-jawed face?
They settled into their usual joking groove as he pulled away from the curb. “So, Coach Kolanowski, you haven’t brought any baseball players to the clinic in the past few days. Does that mean the team has a chance?”
“We’d better. I have a lot of unfinished business with that team. We almost made it to State senior year, remember? We missed out by one game. Now that I’m in charge, I plan to conquer every other team in Arizona. I will prevail. All other coaches will bow down before me.”
She laughed at his bloodthirsty tone. “I see the competitive drive never dies.”
“Not until my last breath, and maybe not even then. My tombstone is going to dominate the entire cemetery.”
The idea sparked her imagination, the way Nick’s ideas always did. “I know what you should do. Put a carving of yourself on it—shirtless. No one ever does that. Not once have I seen a man’s bare torso on a tombstone.”
“Hmm, good point. When they say chiseled, they’ll really mean it.”
They both burst out laughing. “Remember when we got teamed up for that crazy marketing assignment for teddy bears? And we made that horror movie video on your Mac with the teddy bears coming back to life after getting massacred in every creative way we could think of?”
“We were such geeks.” With a pained roll of his eyes, he turned into the parking lot of Everton High. “Although honestly, I released a lot of pent-up anger during that assignment.”
“I’m sure you explained that to the counselor they made you see, right?”
“I tried. But it was hard to warm up to her when she kept her hand on that panic button the entire time.”
Peyton laughed again. If only she’d known Nick was so funny back in high school. She didn’t remember him that way. Quiet and smart was her impression. But then, the memory of Jack had blotted out all others. If there had been no Jack, would she have thought of Nick differently?
She shook her head to chase away the pointless speculation. That was then, this was now. She shot him a look from under her eyelashes. He really was outrageously attractive, with his hair brushed behind his ears and his wide shoulders filling out that jacket.
Everton High was a sprawling compound covered in ochre stucco, with two wings extending from a central atrium. As they walked through the entrance, Peyton refused to look in the direction of the auditorium where she’d melted down on graduation day. Instead, safely at Nick’s side, she strolled toward the gymnasium where the reunion was being held.
His presence next to her bolstered her courage. Even though this wasn’t a date, what girl wouldn’t want to walk into her reunion with an attractive guy next to her? When she caught sight of the purple and gold balloons, the “Welcome Class of ’07—a mighty fine vintage!” banner, she clutched Nick’s hand.
Thank God she wasn’t doing this alone.
The last time she’d faced her fellow students had been through a haze of tears and devastation. Today, she was totally fine. All it took was ten years, an LBD and a really good-looking guy holding her hand.
A check-in table was set up just inside the entrance. Maria Mayer, who was playing traffic controller with the lists and the name tags, jumped to her feet and hurried around to give them both a hug. She wore a vintage velvet cocktail gown that would have done Rita Hayworth proud, paired with a head full of old-fashioned curlers.
“You look…uh…” Peyton couldn’t come up with exactly the right word.
“Vintage, right? Honestly, people really didn’t do enough with the theme. Mostly, people brought boxed wine, which, I mean, does that even have a vintage? It’s like, here’s a box and it can get you drunk. Yay.”
She finished hugging Peyton and turned to Nick. “Lookin’ good, big guy. Glad you came. And I’m really glad you dragged our very own Princess V here.”
“Princess V?” Peyton wrinkled her forehead at her fast-talking friend. She’d always liked Maria, who had ruled the Drama Club with an utter lack of drama.
“V for Valedictorian. Or V for Vendetta, if you prefer. In case you’re feeling vengeful.”
“Vengeful? Why would I—” She broke off, not wanting to follow the trail to its logical conclusion. The only thing that might require vengeance would be The Big Dump. And she wasn’t going to talk about that. How would she get revenge anyway, since the perpetrator of The Big Dump wasn’t even here? “These name tags are cute.” She peeled off the backing and stuck her tag on her chest.
Were these really necessary? Did people change that much in ten years? Of course, the name tags were probably for the benefit of the significant others in attendance. Looking around, she could spot the spouses by their bored expressions and fixed smiles.
“So where did you say that box wine is, Maria?” she asked.
“Oh honey.” Maria stuck Nick’s name tag on his chest with a teasing stroke of her fingertips. Peyton clenched her jaw, reminding herself that this wasn’t a date. “I’ll set you up, but not with that boxed crap. Remember how we used to drink Riunite Lambrusco and think we were so glamorous and sophisticated? I brought some! Perfect for our reunion, get it? Riunite?” She danced around the table and disappeared for a moment. When she popped back up, she brandished a half-empty wine bottle.
“It’s just as sparkly and barely alcoholic as I remember!” She splashed some into a plastic cup, then pushed it at Peyton. “You want?” she asked Nick, who shook his head. “You should have some. You really should,” she urged him. “I’m telling you this out of the kindness of my heart. It’s flipping weird seeing everyone ten years older.”
Peyton exchanged an amused glance with Nick. Wow, Maria sure was wasted, and the evening was just getting underway. “Maria, maybe you should ease up on the Lambrusco.”
“You’re right. Absolutely. Here, you take it.” She shoved the open bottle at Peyton. “I want you to have it.”
Even more alarmed, Peyton lifted her eyebrows at Nick, who shrugged, apparently just as confused as she was.
But it all made sense when a familiar voice spoke in her ear. Actually, even before he said a single word, she reacted on a primal level to his presence, like a wolf scenting danger in the woods. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her heart tripped over itself on its way to a double-time rhythm, and her mouth went dry.
“Peyton. I was hoping you’d be here,” said the voice.
Jack’s voice.
The voice she hadn’t heard for ten years, except when she’d forced herself to watch Beach Games IV: Beer Pong, in which he played Frat Brother number six.
She shot a panicked glance at Nick, who looked just as stunned as she felt. A scowl tightened his forehead and a wave of red crept up his cheeks. Oh shit—was Nick going to lose it and attack Jack? No matter what, she didn’t want that.
Slowly, she turned to face her one and only high school boyfriend, the boy who had broken her heart without even realizing it. Her first love.
Jack Cooper had been devastating in high school. But now—taller, with broader shoulders, tousled hair, tiny laugh lines around his magnetic blue eyes—my God, he was practically otherworldly.
In a white-hot second, she lost all capacity for speech. Had she really dated this person? Kissed him? Curled up in her den on the old broken-down sofa with the plaid upholstery and watched Dancing with the Stars with him? It seemed impossible, like something she’d hallucinated.
Speak, you idiot.
She became aware that a hush had descended on the buzzing crowd of her former classmates. Everyone must be looking this direction. Of course they were—not only was Jack Cooper now a Hollywood star on the verge of superstardom, but he was the Big Dumper, and she was the Big Dumpee. No reunion at this event could be more fascinating.
She opened her mouth, absolutely intending to say “hi” in a mature, calm-and-collected manner.
Instead, she lifted high the bottle of Lambrusco and flung a stream of wine at Jack’s unbearable handsomeness.
He staggered as the red liquid hit him square in the face.
Then she ran out of the gymnasium, bottle still safely in her grasp. She had big plans for the rest of its contents.