CHAPTER FOUR
In high school, they’d all referred to the Everton reservoir as “the res.” All kinds of shenanigans took place there—parties, drinking, secret trysts. Nick had taken his first and only puff of weed there; he’d hated the taste and the fuzzy thinking it produced. But it also was a favorite place for joggers and bike riders. Willow trees grew along the edge, dipping graceful branches toward the water’s surface. A trail wound around it, starting from an open grassy area near the parking lot.
Biking the steep and winding road to the res got their heartbeats roaring. Nick and Peyton rode neck and neck all the way up, then set their bikes into the rack and collapsed onto the grass for a break. The area was filled with people doing their pre-exercise stretches.
“Still coming in second, I see,” Peyton teased. In navy spandex shorts and a t-shirt that said, “There is no ‘we’ in pizza,” she looked delicious enough to lick. She’d tucked her windblown hair into a ponytail that rested on her shoulder.
“It wasn’t a fair contest. I felt like I was racing a fifth grader. I was afraid you’d ring your little bell at me.”
“So you held back, huh? Didn’t I ban you from that back in middle school?”
“Yup. You glared at me for all of second period. I’m still scarred.” He plucked a piece of grass and chewed the end. It tasted like summer, like endless days playing baseball in the park. “But face it, girlie. My bike is manly as fuck. Your little Bananamobile wouldn’t stand a chance against a high-performance work of machinery like that.”
She eyed it enviously. “It is a beauty. Can I try it?”
“Sure.” He motioned for her to have at it. She took his beloved Devinci Troy S for a short spin down to the big yucca, where the trail curved out of sight.
He watched her, unable to not watch her. The sight of her ponytail bouncing between her shoulder blades and her shapely legs pumping the pedals made him groan. He knew he’d be picturing that vision the next time he rode his bike. As for his seat, and the way it filled the space between her legs…he smothered a sigh.
When she got back, she wheeled his bike into the rack and dropped down to the grass beside him. “That was amazing. I guess it’s time for a new bike.”
“Just promise me if you decide to get rid of the Bananamobile, you’ll let me know.”
“Why?” She tilted her head at him. Perspiration gleamed on her sun-kissed skin, and he saw that, yes, she did still have freckles. “Not that I’d ever get rid of her, but why?”
“It’s the perfect girl bike. If I ever have a daughter, I know she’d love it.”
She blinked. “Wow. You want my bike for your potential future daughter? You must be serious about having a family.”
Heat crept up his cheeks. “Well, someday. Of course. Is that strange to you?”
“I don’t know. Not really, I guess. I’ve been so focused on getting my degree that I haven’t thought much about things like that. But I suppose that’s the normal course of life. I mean, obviously it is.”
“Says the doctor.”
With a laugh, she wrapped her arms around her bent knees. One strand of sweat-darkened hair curled at her temple in a perfect loop. “Yes, that medical knowledge really comes in handy, especially for those of us with no real lives. Honestly, you’re the most interesting thing in my social life, and I’m not sure what that says about me.”
Nick scowled at a dude stretching his quadriceps. What the hell did Peyton mean by that comment? Should he be happy she used the word “interesting” or unhappy because of her dismissive tone?
“Nothing against you,” she said quickly. “I’m referring to my social-hermit nature. Once the class geek, always the class geek, I guess.”
He looked at her askance. Was she purposely leaving out the months she’d dated Jack Cooper on purpose? No one had dared call her a geek after Jack had first asked her to the movies. News of that event had traveled through the grapevine like wildfire. Nick himself had nearly thrown up when he’d heard about it.
“And since you’ve been hanging out so much with me, I’m putting you in the social-hermit category too,” she added. “How are you supposed to make any progress with that daughter?”
Ouch. Somehow, he’d ended up in the friend-iest of all friend zones. Jesus.
He kept the banter going as if he weren’t mentally cringing. “It doesn’t have to be a daughter. Actually, a son could ride that bike too. I plan to be one of those cool parents. The kind that doesn’t flip out over things like boys riding girly bikes.”
“It’s not a girly bike. Okay, maybe it is a girly bike,” she admitted over his hoots of laughter. “But now I’m seriously curious. Where did this fathering urge come from? I feel like I’m still in school. I don’t feel old enough to be a parent, even though of course I realize that I’m practically Jell-O-at-the-old-folks-home age.”
He laughed at that. But clearly she meant her question sincerely. Since they tended to joke around more than talk seriously, maybe this was an opportunity. He decided to open up about something he rarely—make that never—talked about.
“You probably heard rumors about my parents,” he said, after clearing his throat. “They had a strange marriage. An open marriage. I didn’t think it was weird at the time, of course. I didn’t think about it at all. But when I got older, I understood more and it bothered me. There were always strangers showing up in our house. My parents always had tension between them. They fought, and they made up, and then one of them would find someone else, and they’d fight or have a revenge relationship, and the whole cycle would start over again. I was like an afterthought. They didn’t even bother to be discreet around me. Anyway, around the age of fifteen, I kind of figured the whole thing out. And I swore I’d never do that to my kid. I decided that the most important thing I could ever do in my life would be to create a real family and raise a few kids who always knew that their parents put them first. And there you go. My big speech. Sorry. Didn’t mean to get so serious on you.”
“Hey, I asked,” she said softly. “Thank you for telling me all that. I heard stuff in high school but I never paid attention. I think I was too naive to understand it anyway. At least back then. Now I have a medical degree, so I’ve seen it all.”
There went that impish grin again. It did something to his heart. Reached right inside him like the beam of a flashlight.
“So, you’ve finally found something you’ll definitely come in first in.” She tilted her head back and let the sun beat down on her face. “I’m not even a contender when it comes to kids. I’m sure everyone at the reunion will feel sorry for me, thanks to my single and childless state.”
He didn’t answer for a moment. He was too busy looking at the way her eyelashes were tipped with gold.
“You know, I’ve often wondered, what got us going on the whole competition thing?” She turned her head and caught him staring. He pretended that he’d been tracking a bug and swiped at it.
“You don’t remember? It was the time capsule project. Whoever wrote the best essay got to send a message to the future.”
“Right! And you won. I remember it was a great essay, all about not forgetting what matters to kids. It got me all fired up to do better the next time. Honestly, I think I got into college because I was so motivated. It was that competitive spirit of yours that drove me. I was not going to lose to Nick Kolanowski. No way. Come on, let’s do a couple laps around the res.” She jumped to her feet and broke into a light warm-up jog.
He followed suit, brushing dry grass off his shorts. “So, what you’re saying is that you owe your brilliant medical career to me? You’re welcome.”
She made a face at him, then headed for the trail around the res. They fell into a smooth, perfectly synchronized rhythm.
“Seriously, look at you now, Dr. Locke. I wouldn’t worry about what anyone says at the reunion. They’re going to fall all over themselves to suck up to you.” He grinned at her. A breeze flirted with the end of her ponytail, and he caught a whiff of her shampoo. Jasmine and vanilla, with a dash of sweat.
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Are you trying to trick me into going to that darn reunion? Did the committee pressure you?”
“No tricks. But you know something? We should go together.”
As soon as he made the invitation, he wanted to take it back. What happened to the “avoid Peyton” plan?
“Really? Together? But since we were rivals, we’d have to make a competition out of it. I know—I could show up with an entourage of sexy backup singers dressed in scrubs.”
“I’d take that challenge. I’ll bring my baseball team. I’ve seen them twerk. We could do a dance-off like one of those high school comedies.”
She laughed. “This is actually starting to sound tempting.”
They jogged for a while in silence. The hum of insects in the willows mingled with the pounding of their feet on the dirt.
“Would you really want to go together?” she asked abruptly. “Wouldn’t people jump to all kinds of wrong conclusions?”
“Who cares? People are always going to talk.” He shrugged. “They’ll talk if you don’t go. You were the valedictorian and everyone knows you’re back.”
With a pained expression, she unscrewed the top of her water bottle. “I hate being talked about.” She took a quick swallow from the bottle, spilling water over her face as she jogged. “If I could sneak in without anyone noticing, maybe it would be okay. But people talking about me…ugh.”
Of course, he knew what she was referring to. The Big Dump, their graduating class had called it. The news had spread at the speed of light, or the speed of Jack’s convertible hitting the road, anyway. Jack Cooper had dumped Peyton Locke just before he’d left town, mere minutes before her valedictorian speech. If Jack had been anyone else, his reputation would have crumbled into dirt. But everyone loved Jack, and so Peyton ended up getting the worst of the gossip. They were never right for each other, people said. He was just being nice to her. He could be dating a movie star or a model. Didn’t he meet Mischa Barton at an audition?
“Yeah. You know, I tried to get them all to shut up—”
She threw up a hand to interrupt him. “Stop. I wasn’t talking about that. It happened, it sucked, I got through it, I just want to leave it in the past.” Picking up the pace, she moved a stride ahead of him.
As he watched her ponytail swing back and forth, an uncomfortable realization stole over him. In the months that she’d been back, that they’d been spending time together, not one single time had she mentioned Jack. Even during their conversation about competition, his name hadn’t come up. He and Jack had done nothing but compete all through high school. But she didn’t consider that worth mentioning?
Also, she hadn’t asked if Jack was coming to the reunion. (Yeah, right. That would be the day. The committee would have a collective orgasm if that happened.) And now she was shutting down any mention of The Big Dump.
Huh.
Any halfway observant person could figure this out. Peyton was still hung up on Jack.
Which left him exactly where he’d always been. Nowhere.