BY THE TIME the first week of May rolls around, I've finally started to think of Rock Valley as home.
It seems weird. New York has always been my home; I was born there, I grew up there, I thrived there. But now, I can Barry remember what the appeal of the bustling sidewalks, constant noise and never ending construction was.
I love walking to school in the fresh air. Arkansas in May is far warmer than New York, and you won't hear me complaining. I'm even enjoying school. It might not be an ivy-league prep school, but the classes are enriching and the teachers aren't half the snot-nosed pricks they were at Spence.
I may have rose through the ranks of RVH's popularity quickly, but I don't feel the same pressure to be the Queen I was before. Being the HBIC here is more like being everyone's pretty, older sister. The one you go to for beauty tips and relationship advice. It's actually astounding how many couples I've matched up and played marriage counsellor for over the past month.
My friends feel like my sisters, and sometimes I find myself realizing that they might just be the only true friends I've had in all of my life.
And then there's Hunter.
Hunter Maddox. Originally, the bane of my existence here, has now been my actual boyfriend for a month. Now that has got to be some kind of sorcery. We're still in the honeymoon phase, which is obvious by the fact we're practically joined at the hip during all hours of the day. And hands, and mouths...You get the picture.
The only thing wrong now is my brother. For some reason, we've grown distant. He barely acknowledges me at school, and doesn't talk to me at home unless absolutely necessary. It's awkward to say the least, seeing as we share a bedroom wall and have dinner together on a nightly basis. I just don't get it.
It's exceptionally awkward when I turn to the door at Pauli's swinging open, only to watch Jay and his friends walk through the door and take a seat at one of the tables in my section. I eye my fellow waitress, Margie, whose settling up a bill for one of her customers. She's overdue for a break. I can't ask possibly ask her to cover my tables for me.
So I take a breath to collect myself, paste on my best friendly smile, and walk over to my baby brother's table.
The second he sees me, he scowls and buries his face in his menu. I miss a step. He's mad, and I'm not sure what to do. He's never been mad at me for this long before.
Recovering, I approach the table. My friendly smile is a weak one. "Hey guys, what can I get for you this afternoon?"
I know each of the three boys names, I think, but not because my brother has introduced us. It's just that small of a town. The blonde one smiles at me. He's one of those kids who thinks he's charming. "How about a beer, sweetheart?"
My smile matches his, sweet as sugar, and I lean my hip against the bench seat beside him. "Sure thing, hun. You want that in a bottle or a sippy cup?"
His smile turns into a rotten scowl. His friends, with the exception of Jay, laugh at his expense. I tell them I'll bring them a round of cola colas, take their order and pivot on my heel. I'm barely a few feet away before the blonde boy is not-so-quietly grumbling about me.
"Dude, your sister might be hot, but she's a raging bitch."
If I expect Jay to agree that I am in fact a raging bitch— I mean, my brother has seen me PMSing for years— I'm surprised when he growls back, "Shut up before I knock your teeth out."
Over the next few minutes, I place their orders with the cook and bring them a round of soda. Jay still says nothing to me beyond a quick "burger and fries" and "there's no salt." I'm thoroughly frustrated by the time I finish rounding on my tables, serving them food and drinks, and I settle for leaning against the counter with a huff.
Surprisingly, my Keds I wear for work aren't half as comfortable as my heels. I actually have to bandage my feet to stop them blistering.
The last twenty minutes since Jay walked in have been more stressful and exhausting than the past six hours of my shift. And it's a Saturday afternoon. He's also managed to thoroughly ruin my mood, which had been excited for the plans I have tonight.
The details were sparse, but Hunter had finally gotten around to asking me out on a proper date. Sure, we'd had dinner at Pauli's a handful of times, and watched movies in my room. But he's surprised me with a text this morning telling me he'd pick me up from Addy's at five-thirty. Apparently she would help me get ready.
The last hour of my shift seems to drag out. Just when I'm sure Jay and his friends have decided to move into their booth permanently, a dark haired boy with more manners than his blonde friend came over and asks for their bills. He takes them back to the table, the boys leave cash in each of their places, and they take off.
Jay doesn't even look my way on his way out the door.
"I am not wearing those," I insist for the third time, my arms crossed over my chest. "It's not happening."
Addy rolls her eyes. "Hunter gave me specific instructions. I didn't think you'd be that against it."
I've been standing in Addison's bedroom for ten minutes while she's sorted through her closet, pulling out different articles of clothing and trying to make me the perfect outfit for this date. She's currently holding up a purple and blue plaid shirt, a white long sleeve and a pair of faded blue jeans that look like they've seen much better days.
To quote Simon Cowell, it's a no from me.
I raise a challenging eyebrow at her. "And if Ethan told me you needed to wear a plunging v-neck and a pair of my heels, would you go along with it ?"
Immediately, Addie turns seven shades redder. While Edan hadn't become an official couple in time to make the cut for yearbook, they were pretty damn close. He'd taken her to a drive-
in movie last weekend,— because apparently those are still a thing— and even gave her a goodnight kiss on her front porch. It was a romance straight out a Nicholas Sparks novel, and their lack of official status hadn't stopped me from picking out their wedding colors this week during English lit.
She does her best to hold her chin up defiantly. "I happen to think those pink heels of yours would look super pretty with one of my white lace dresses."
I give her a sour look.
"Oh, just put on the jeans, Peyton, please?" Addie huffs, blowing a strand of flyaway that had escaped from her ponytail. "You'll look pretty, I promise."
For the love of god, she's pouting. With an exaggerated sigh, I snatch the jeans from her outstretched hand. "Fine. But I'm not going to enjoy this. Damn things itch like a mother."
The blonde lets out an excited squeal, clapping her hands while I tug the stiff pants on under my work uniform. They're not comfortable by any means, but they're well worn and not quit as torturous as I was thinking they would be.
Before Addison can catch on that they're not as horrible as my dramatic ass made them out to be, I strip out of my skirt and blouse and hold out an expectant hand. "Well, hand them over."
She eagerly thrusts the tops into my hand and I pull them on with obvious chagrin. My brown hair has been up in a fat clip all day, so I take it out and let the waves fall freely around my face. It's not neat or perfect; sex hair has always been more my kind of style.
There's a vintage full length mirror that Addie has standing by her bedroom window, and I stand in front of it to assess my reflection. As a matter of fact, Addie made a pretty good decision— the blues and purples bring out my green eyes. I grab my makeup bag from my purse and touch up my mascara and lip gloss. I can't say I don't miss my high end brands some days.
Addison smiles, appearing beside my shoulder. "You look beautifully small town."
"It's not awful," I admit, nudging her side with my elbow. My voice turns serious. "But if you try to stick me in a pair of cowboy boots or something, I'm going to have to re-evaluate this friendship."
Her mouth pops on in a little "o" for a beat before she realizes I'm joking, and starts giggling. I join her, and insist we take a few photos together to commemorate the only time she's likely to see me dressed like this.
I admire the fact Addison has spent her day babysitting her neighbors' toddler and five year old— her face is bare, three quarters of her hair is in an unkempt ponytail, and there's a mysterious food stain on her blush pink tee— but she's still smiling and taking photos as if she's dressed to the nines. I may be confident in my body, but I rarely allow anyone to see me without makeup on and hair brushed.
We're laughing and making goofy faces, and we barely notice when the doorbell rings. In fact, Addie's twelve year old sister Paisley has to yell up the stairs, asking why on earth Hunter Maddox is at their front door.
I grab my purse. Addison insists on letting me leave my uniform here, saying I can come back for it tomorrow. She's a never ending bag of generosity, that girl.
Taking the stairs quickly in my sock feet, I see Paisley did let Hunter inside, but she then promptly disappeared to whatever corner of the house twelve year olds hide in these days. He smiles when he sees me, and I don't miss the once-over he gives me more than once.
"Wow, Skirt," he grins, taking his hands out of his jean pockets. "Don't you look like a tall glass of sweet tea?"
I roll my eyes. It's a reflex now, stepping into Hunter's arms and placing my hands on his chest. I can feel the definition of his muscles under my palms, moving as he wraps his arms around my waist. "I thought you were a fan of the skirts."
There's mirth dancing in his blue eyes. "I am. But it's not as fun doing this when you wear them," he explains as his hands shift down from my waist and he slips them inside the back pockets of the jeans. With a chuckle, he pulls me against him, my hips rocking gently into his and he captures my mouth with his in a hard kiss that leaves me breathless.
I'm biting my bottom lip when he pulls away. "Fair enough," I admit, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly. "Now, where are we headed this evening?"
Hunter Maddox could charm a coffee table if he tried. He grins and winks at me, spinning me around and wrapping a strong arm around my waist. "It's a surprise."
"You're no fun," I tell him as he opens the front door and escorts me out to his truck. He holds the passenger door open for me and everything, feigning Prince Charming worthy chivalry.
He starts driving to whatever unknown destination he has planned. We chat idly, joking and laughing, and I faintly realize just how comfortable I am with Hunter.
Not too long after, I notice we're driving out of town, towards an area I recall is scattered with farms and fields. He makes a left hand turn onto what I assume is a roadway, but after a moment a farmhouse emerges in front of us, and I realize we're actually driving up a dirt driveway.
My smiling face suddenly turns serious. "You're not."
Hunter looks over at me, putting the truck in park beside a newer, shiny red truck labelled Fire Chief. "Taking you to meet my parents? Damn straight, Skirt."
My head lols back and I stare at the roof of the cab. "A warning would've been appreciated, Maddox. Somehow, I don't think I'm the kind of girl your parents expect you to bring home."
He chuckles, squeezing my knee. "You're not Clary, so in my mom's book, that's a big win."
"Jackass," I scoff, shoving him in the shoulder.
He laughs, climbing out of the truck and coming around to open my door for me. I'd made a comment about the gesture one time, and he'd brushed it off by saying the passenger door got stuck sometimes and it opened easier from the outside. It was bullshit, of course, but I deceived to let him keep thinking he had me fooled.
"So, are we having dinner with your parents? Or are you just walking me past them on our way upstairs?"
"Nah," he chuckles, clasping his hand firmly around mine and lacing our fingers together. "Mom's kinda been dying to meet you. So I told her we'd stop in to pick up supper before we head back out."
I raise my eyebrow suspiciously. "Head back out where?"
"All in due time, Skirt," he says as we approach the front door. The house is pretty much what I'd imagined a farmhouse to look like, if only a little more worn down. The porch is in need of a paint job, but the wooden swing at one end looks rather inviting.
Hunter opens the front door, no need to unlock it— Rock Valley is definitely an open-door kind of town. As we step inside, I notice that it's very similar to the outside. Worn-down hardwood floors and walls that could use a good washing to freshen them up, but homey nonetheless with flowers on the side table and a collection of framed family photos through the years hanging on the wall.
"Mom!" Hunter calls as he pulls me into the next room by our linked hands. We find his mom in the living room, curled up on the couch with a couple of knitting needles in hand. I can't tell what it is she's making— I don't knit— but judging by the sheer size of it, I'd guess it's a blanket.
"Oh, Hunter, I wasn't expecting you two so soon!" she croons, setting her knitting aside and getting to her feet.
Claire Maddox was a slip of a woman, all skin and bones and not much else. She came around the couch and wrapped her arms around me, not bothering to wait for an invitation.
"It's so nice to finally meet you, Peyton," she smiles, holding me at arms length while she looks me up and down. She's shorter than I am, the top of her frizzy dark blonde head barely coming to my shoulder.
I smile, hoping it doesn't look as distressed as I feel right now. "You too, Mrs. Maddox," I say politely, clasping Hunter's hand just a little bit tighter. He chuckles quietly.
Her eyes glitter, reminding me of Hunter's. "Such a sweetheart," she says with a grin.
Before she can say anything else, Hunter pipes up. "Where's Dad?"
Hunter's mom looks slightly confused before she answers. "Try around back, honey. He might be in the barn."
"Will do, Mom. We'll come say bye before we leave, okay?" he tells her, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Okay, dear."
I give her a small wave as Hunter leads me down the hall to a small mud room. When we're safely out of earshot of his mother, he smirks. "You weren't kidding, eh Skirt? You looked like you were in pain back there."
My face falls into a grimace. "I told you."
Hunter looks a me for a minute, examining how my expression shifts. "Alright, what's up? What's that look for?"
I screw up my features, trying to cover up the look he's talking about. My brow lifts. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He was obviously unamused. "Yeah, you do," he sighs heavily, pulling me against him. "Come one, babe, what do you wanna know?"
I nibble at my lip. No part of me likes to intrude on people's personal lives. But, while he's offering...
"Your mom. Is she... okay?" I ask hesitantly.
The Claire Maddox my mom had told me about was beautiful and confident, but quiet. The woman I had just met, however, seemed almost distant and flighty.
Hunter tries his best to keep his expression straight, but I can see a hint of a grimace. "She's okay. She just doesn't get out much. I mean, not in the last couple of years, at least."
I tilt my head to the side, curious. "Why's that?"
With another heavy sigh, he takes me by both hands and backs towards a set of stairs by the back door. He's on the second step up when I finally ask him, "Now where are we going?"
"I wanna show you something."
I oblige, following behind him.
He leads me upstairs and through the first door on the right. I know it's his bedroom. The walls are painted a pale shade of green, the grey carpet worn from years of footsteps. There's a dresser, a side table, a bed, and not much else.
I stop at the end of his bed, not entirely sure why we're here. I get the strong feeling it's not for the only reason I've ever been in a teenage boys room when he drops my hands and picks up a picture frame off of his bedside table. Wordlessly, he hands it to me.
The black wooden frame is unremarkable. It's the photograph inside, of two smiling teenage boys that holds my eye. I recognize Hunter's blue eyes and charming smile, even if his face is younger, more innocent. The other boy wears the same charismatic smirk and sharp jawline I also know well, but his brown eyes and dark blonde hair are all his mother's.
"You have a brother?"
He smiles, and the sadness in it says more than his words ever could. "I did, yeah."
My heart breaks in my chest for the boy in front of me.
The only family I've ever lost is my grandfather, and that had felt like someone had ripped out my heart. But if I ever lost my little brother... I can't imagine that kind of pain. I would rather die.
"I'm so sorry," I say automatically. It's the worst possible thing to say, but it's the only words I can come up with.
Hunter buries his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah. It happened a while ago. Dad and I, we've— I don't know— healed? Moved on? Whatever. But Mom's never really been the same."
His ever-present bravado is gone. Behind his heartstoppingly blue eyes, I can see the boy who lost a part of himself, weighed down by that grief long before anyone should ever have to be.
"Hey," I say finally, setting the picture down on his bed before taking a step towards him. I wind my arms around his waist, my cheek settling against his chest. His heart beats strong and true beneath my ear. "Thank you for telling me."
Surprisingly, Hunter chuckles and his arms go around my shoulders, hugging me close. "I wanted to apologize for acting weird a couple weeks back. When we had dinner with your mom."
I furrow my brow. "After Cameron's?"
Hunter nods. "It would've been his birthday. It was just..."
"I was being a complete bitch to my brother," I finish. I look up at him and frown. "Wow. I'm so stupid."
"You're not stupid," he says immediately. "You didn't know. It's not like I told you."
"Fair," I admit, neither agreeing or disagreeing. My perspective has certainly changed when it comes to Jay. Him and I are in need of a serious chat.
"You can tell me about him," I say slowly, threading carefully with my words. "I'd like to know him."
It's not a lie, or even something I'm saying to placate him. My words are genuine.
He kisses me, first on my cheek and then on my lips. It's quick and innocent, and he buries his face in my hair afterward.
I'm happy I washed my hair this morning, but I'm still sure it smells faintly of grease and coffee.
"That means a lot, Skirt," he says against the side of my throat, and I giggle softly. One more quick kiss and he pulls away to look me in the eye. "But later. Right now, I have plans for us."
And just like that, Hunter's back to his charming, smirking self. I raise an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
He drops one arm from around me and roots around in the front pocket of his jeans. He pulls something out and holds it up in the space between us for me see.
A blue metal bottle opener and three silver keys dangle from his finger. I stare at them, confused.
Hunter only grins. "'Bout time you learned how to drive."
Behold, the elusive author has actually written something! It's a bloody miracle.
If y'all want to get hit right in the feels, this is the song this chapter was titled after:
Until I remember to post the next chapter, how about a lil' smirky Colton to prepare y'all for what's comin' next...
Lots of love,