The employee quarters had a back door with a small set of stairs that faced the road Peyton would take to return home. I chose the spot because it was angled so that that I would remain out of sight to anyone coming up the road - as long as I kept seated.
I sat down and curled my arms around my legs.
About an hour later, Charlotte returned and disappeared into the main house. I couldn't see her expression but she seemed the same as usual, all grace and poise, sunglasses perched on the top of her head. I could've been imagining things, but it sure looked like she had a skip in her step.
"Freak," I mumbled, tapping my knee with the twig I had in my hand. Sighing, I returned my attention to the swirls and spirals I was making on the dirt.
Half an hour later, when there was still no sign of Peyton, I texted him and let him know where I was.
Twenty minutes after that, Peyton rounded the curve on foot, appearing in my line of vision. Even from far away, I could tell that he was off: distracted, distant. He smiled when he saw me but his expression was strained, the smile forced.
He'd also tucked in his shirt.
Immediately regretting the decision to come here today, I looked at my feet. Expecting him to take a seat beside me, I scooted over to make space. But he stepped over the spot and kept going, choosing instead, to take a seat two steps above me.
"Hey," he said, to the back of my head.
I turned around to face him, squinting against the sun.
He rubbed his hand over his jaw and neck, making a soft bristly sound. He hadn't shaved and I could see golden stubble glinting in the light.
He looked tired, his face wan. Actually, he looked terrible - for him, anyway - and I could tell it bothered him that I was seeing him like this.
So I turned my back on him, returning my attention to the dirt. "I should've called before I came over. I'm sorry, I didn't think it through."
I drew a circle around a pebble in the dirt. Him, inside. Me, outside.
"It's okay," he said, resting his forearms on his knees. We sat in silence for a while, the back of my head prickling from his stare.
"I saw you," I confessed without turning around. "Out by the lake with Charlotte. Your mom said you were out there so I came down and-"
"It's alright," he said.
I stopped talking. I should've been able to ask him what all that was about. And he should've been able to answer. We were friends, after all.
But the truth was, I didn't really know Peyton. Peyton only showed me what he wanted me to see. He chose what, when, and how much he wanted share with me, and that was it. So no, for all the time we spent together, I didn't really know him, not in his world. Whatever was going on in this house was private. All I knew was that it was serious and that he wouldn't share it with me.
"Hey," he told the back of my head. "I'm glad you're here."
Liar.
I lay my cheek against my arm, welcoming the sunlight that warmed my skin because I felt icy cold inside. Unwelcome and unwanted with no way to escape.
A gardener pushing a wheelbarrow walked by, shooting us a quick, furtive look. Absently, I watched the wheels bump along the cobbled stones of the driveway when I felt the lightest of touches in my hair. Peyton's fingers. He started at the end of my ponytail, taking a few strands between his fingers.
I smiled as he gently buried his whole hand in there, winding my hair around his fist. The smile quickly turned into a frown of confusion as he pulled hard, cruelly straining my hair at the roots.
The sharp pain startled me and I nearly cried out.
He'd miscalculated, I'd told myself. That was all. Grabbed too tight, too fast.
As if to prove my point, he loosened his grip immediately and used my ponytail to playfully pull my head back, giving me an upside down view of his face.
His eyelashes were long and golden as he looked down at me, the blue of his eyes just a sliver between them. He smiled. "Hey."
I stared up at him, unblinking.
"I'm glad you're here," he said. "I mean that."
I said nothing, so he grinned and gave my hair a light tug. "Say: 'I know you're glad I'm here Peyton'," he said.
My mouth twitched as I tried to hold my laughter in. "You're hurting my neck," I warned.
He pulled some more, making my back arch. "Say it Layla."
"Or you're going to pull all my hair out by the roots?" I teased.
He gave me a long look, his eyes eternally sad. What I would give to know all the things he was thinking. Whatever it was, it was heavy stuff and I would do anything to ease his burdens no matter how small of a difference it made. I would say and do whatever he wanted. "I-know-you're-glad-I'm-here-Peyton," I said superfast.
"Good girl," he said, abruptly releasing my hair. "And that thing with Lottie had nothing to do with you," he added.
I quickly turned to face him, physically putting myself into his space before he pulled away again. "I was going to take you out to lunch, but we can do it another time."
"Okay," he said.
I'd expected that, but I was still disappointed.
"But I'm still buying you dinner on your birthday," I added. His birthday was on Thursday, three days from now.
He looked off into the distance, getting ready to make excuses.
I grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head down so that we were eye to eye. "Say 'Yes Layla, you can buy me dinner on my birthday.' Go on, say it."
He smiled a little bit. I studied him, first his eyes, then his nose and finally his lips. How easy it would be to pull just a little bit more and bring his lips to mine. It would take almost no effort at all. an inch to the left and another two down.
I met his eyes again and stared into them, thinking.
I would've done it, I really would have.
But he gave the barest of shakes, nearly imperceptible, and told me no.
Funny thing is, it didn't sting. The rejection had nothing to do with me. There was too much going on in his head, even I could feel that. I shrugged it off and gave his head a hard tug. "Say it Peyton."
He laughed and told me I could buy him dinner so I released him. His hair was all messed up now but I resisted the urge to smooth it out. I dropped my gaze and brought my fingernails to my teeth. He didn't say anything more so I spoke again. "You okay Peyton?"
He was quiet for a long time, squinting into the sun through half closed eyes. "I'm okay Layla," he said quietly.
"Would you tell me if you weren't?" I asked, trying to peer through his eyelashes into his eyes. Hell, they were thick.
The damned dogs picked that moment to round the corner, their tags jingling to the rhythm of their trots.
"She's looking for me," said Peyton.
I bit my lip and nodded.
"Give me a few minutes with her and I'll drive you back home."
I shook my head. "I drove Shana's car over," I lied.
"Okay," he said, standing. Then he hesitated.
"Go," I said, waving my hand at him. "Don't keep your mom waiting."
He nodded and walked away, his hands deep inside his pockets. I watched him go, feeling left behind.
He made it halfway across the yard before he turned. "I'll pick you up from Beaudry's after work tomorrow?"
I grinned and nodded. "Five o'clock," I yelled across the courtyard.
He smiled and turned the corner.
I exhaled.
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