Last time I do this to you… promise!

It was the second time this week that Peyton had gotten that text from Kensie but she didn’t think much about it anymore. Kensie was back – safely back in New York without a scratch on her skinny body. If she was going to make poor life decisions, at least she was doing it in Manhattan, where Peyton was only a cab ride away from her rescue.

“Are we even going to get into this party? We’re dressed like shit and we smell like Pringles,” Hailey said, tying and untying the hem of her baggy tunic in attempts to make it look chic. She and Peyton had been watching their third hour of The Great British Baking Show on Netflix when Kensie’s text came in, asking to be rescued from yet another date gone wrong.

Tonight, it was with a guy named Axe. Like the body spray. He was six-foot-two, a hundred thirty pounds soaking wet and he had a tattoo of a pink spider web on his knee. But he was an up-and-coming music producer who’d been featured on last month’s cover of Rolling Stone, so Kensie had to at least give it a chance. How else was she to become half of America’s next great power couple?

“We’ll get in,” Peyton reassured Hailey, freeing her dark waves from a sloppy topknot. She gave a brief glance at the cab’s rearview mirror despite having no intention of fluffing her hair or doing anything to make it look like she hadn’t just been in pajamas. There was no need. She was nobody in New York but her name still managed to grace every list at the door of every party – because her socialite cousin, Kensie, knew she’d eventually rely on Peyton to get her drunk ass home. So the reason for the in was less than glamorous, but it was an in nonetheless.

“Okay, let me get this straight though. Kensie ruins everyone’s life for three weeks but since she came back without getting herself killed somehow, she gets to redeem like, unlimited I’m-drunk-come-save-me coins?” Hailey asked while hastily bronzing her cleavage. Peyton snorted as she watched her friend.

“You’re not allowed to trash talk when you asked to come with me tonight because you’ve never been inside Godsend,” she said, referring to the Lower East Side club that had been one of Manhattan’s hardest doors to get past for five years running. The place was an essential part of Kensie’s dating M.O – while good dates generally continued on to some intimate lounge, dates that went poorly proceeded over to Godsend, because Kensie was physically incapable of rejecting those more famous than herself – and most people were. “It just feels disrespectful – like I think I’m all that or something. I don’t want anyone to think I’m a bitch,” Kensie had explained to Peyton, “especially if I’m trying to make a name in this industry.”

So the answer was Godsend. At Godsend, Kensie at least had an excuse to be separated from her date due to drunkenness, or run-ins with friends, or simply getting lost in the crowd. Peyton actually approved of these ways to get out of tough situations because they were better than the nights during which Kensie simply drank till one of two options happened: A, she got sloppy enough to just go home with her date, or B – Peyton’s worst nightmare – she got too sloppy to spurn his advances

Tonight, it was the latter, which was why Peyton had her cabbie speeding down Orchard.

“She’s kind of hilariously spineless for a super hot chick,” Hailey said. “I mean I’m sure she’s been telling guys to get lost since she was like, ten – why can’t she do it now?” she asked, running her fingers through her ashy blonde hair.

“She just wants to let them off as easy as possible. It’s less awkward that way, when she runs into them again at parties or whatever.”

“Yeah, I don’t think even you believe the words you’re saying, Nan.”

Peyton dulled her hazel eyes at Hailey. Nan, short for “nanny,” was Hailey’s nickname for Peyton when it came to matters concerning Kensie’s welfare. It wasn’t a completely inaccurate description but it was old and overused and she knew that it annoyed Peyton. Hailey heaved a sigh.

“I’m just saying. She’s twenty-five years old. She needs to start taking responsibility for herself at some point. And responsibility includes rejecting her own dates instead of letting you play bad guy for her so the whole industry thinks you’re just this harpy shrew who randomly shows up to kill her buzz.”

Peyton didn’t respond. Hailey wasn’t exactly wrong. There were a lot of things she shouldn’t be doing for Kensie anymore and saving her from bad dates was only one thing in a list of a hundred. But her life was one long complicated explanation and though she’d known Hailey for over three years now, she didn’t feel like getting into it. So despite generally dreading date night rescue missions, Peyton rushed out of the car the second it stopped, barely waiting for Hailey as she bypassed the massive line and wall of bouncers outside of Godsend.

* * *

“Had a feeling I’d be seeing you.” Grinning at Peyton was the cute bartender who usually worked Thursday nights. Pouring into a steel shaker, he nodded toward the mezzanine overlooking the dance floor. “She’s up there.”

Peyton gave a nod of thanks and easily rushed up the staircase in her parchment Converses, giving another nod of thanks to the familiar bouncer who stepped wordlessly aside for her.

Upon reaching the mezzanine, her hawk eyes scanned for all of a second before spotting Kensie’s buoyant red hair in the corner. It peeked out from behind Axe Aronson’s lanky, six-foot-two frame, which shamelessly smothered Kensie in their corner booth. Peyton felt her cheeks grow hot as she approached.

“Hi,” she said brusquely. “Just checking that my cousin can breathe under you.”

“Peyton!” Kensie squealed, her voice piercing through the din of the music. Axe hissed a string of profanity, covering his ear as Kensie burst forward into Peyton’s arms.

“Can you stand?” Peyton asked quietly, trying to prop Kensie up in her five-inch heels.

“Mm-hm!” Kensie lied exuberantly.

Axe smirked. “She’s getting a little tired. We were thinking about going back to my place to get away from all the noise,” he said to Peyton’s thighs. Peyton tugged her shorts down to cover more skin. “You are… definitely more than welcome to join the festivities.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I have to get my friend home, too,” Peyton replied, nodding toward an awkward Hailey.

“Bring her.” Axe gave Hailey the onceover, unimpressed. “She can watch,” he decided, turning back to Peyton with a leering grin. She pressed her lips into a deeply fake smile.

“Mm, well, as enticing as that sounds, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“Why?”

“I have better plans for the evening.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“Laundry,” Peyton returned flatly.

Axe stood before her, his gaze still fixed on her as his smile faded. Quiet for a second, he finally turned to Kensie. “Babydoll. Coming home with me or what?”

“Hm?” Kensie played dumb, her limp arms still wrapped around Peyton’s neck.

“Sorry,” Peyton said with finality, ushering Kensie away. But the second she did, Axe grabbed a hold of her shoulder. Before Hailey could step forward, Peyton shot him daggers. “Let go.”

Axe grinned down at her as if she were darling. “I really like the tough act, little girl, but when it comes down to it, I don’t think you wanna go head to head with me.”

Peyton laughed, giving Axe’s body her own unimpressed onceover. She let her gaze linger on his bony, inked chest for a moment before smiling up at him daintily.

“I could squat you,” she said, watching that smile of his once again slide off his lips.

And with that, Hailey removed Kensie’s heels, holding them as Peyton lifted her wobbly legs off the floor, carrying her securely down the stairs and out the back where the taxi waited.