New Beginnings

Chapter 4

A week after the party, Peyton and Vanessa are at Vanessa's house to watch a movie.

*Vanessa*

     My parents had a fundraiser banquet tonight so invited Peyton over to watch a movie and eat dinner. I was excited. I hoped that the relaxed atmosphere would allow us to talk and work out our problems. I heard my back door open and Peyton walked in. I ran over to him and kissed him on the cheek. 

     "Hi Peyton. How are you?"

     He smiled at me and answered "Good. My parents didn't fight today and practice was good." That made me happy.

     "I'm so glad. I ordered pizza. Half cheese, half pepperoni. The way you like it. I have Cokes and candy. Also, I couldn't decide what to watch. You pick." I knew what he would pick but I thought I'd ask anyway.

     He grinned. "Iron Man. Duh." That's his favorite movie. He can almost quote it. I put the movie in the player and we sat in the couch. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I leaned into him. It was nice. Normal. I'd missed this. I'd missed this Peyton.

    About thirty minutes into the movie, the doorbell rang. 

       "That must be the pizza. I'll get it." I hopped off the couch and went to the front door. I opened it to see Houston standing there. It surprised me. When I had ordered the pizza from Sal's, I hadn't expected Houston to deliver it. I had only ordered from there because it was good pizza and I thought he only worked in the restaurant. I didn't know that he was a delivery boy. 

     "Hi. Um, let me go get the money." I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the twenty that my mom had put under a magnet on the fridge.  

     When I returned, Peyton was standing in the doorway, talking to Houston. I could tell by the tone of his voice that Peyton was upset. Houston noticed me and said "Vanessa. Here." He handed me the pizza. I grabbed it and handed him the twenty. I glanced at Peyton. His face was red and he looked mad. 

     "Keep the change. Thanks, Houston." Houston hesitated, looking at Peyton, then back to me before returning to his truck.  I shut the door. I went to put the pizza kitchen and Peyton followed me. 

      "Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded. I was confused. Tell him what?

     "That you went on a date with Houston to a party." 

     My heart dropped to my feet. I had forgotten to tell him.  

     "How did you know?" I asked. "And it wasn't a date." 

     "Houston told me just now. He thanked me for letting him take you. He thanked me for being understanding. You made me look like a fool." He said bitterly. 

     "I'm sorry, Peyton. I forgot. Truly. I meant to tell you. I swear. It totally slipped my mind." I stuttered. 

     "Were you tying to hide it from me? Do you like him?" He questioned, his voice getting louder. He was angry, understandably. I shouldn't have forgotten. 

     "No! I wasn't trying to hide it. He needed someone to go with so his ex-girlfriend wouldn't try to set him up. We went as friends, I promise. And No! I don't have feelings for him! I love you, Peyton. You know that."

     "Well, I'm starting to question if you really love me or not." He snapped. That stung. 

     "Peyton. It was an honest mistake. I was busy with school and dance. I was busy and overwhelmed and it slipped my mind. Honestly. I'm not trying to hide from you!" My voice was getting shaky and I was getting nervous. 

     "Don't lie to me!" He yelled. "Don't, Vanessa. I don't want your lies!" 

     "I'm not lying!" I persisted. "I'm sorry, Peyton. I am."

     "I don't believe you." 

     "Well, I don't know how to prove it to you!" I yelled back. "I love you, but maybe if you weren't angry and irrational all the time, I wouldn't feel the need to hang out with Houston." As soon as I said those words, I regretted them. He had been a  great boyfriend. I opened my mouth to apologize but before I could I felt a stinging pain across my face. 

     He had slapped me. Peyton had hit me.

    He looked stunned, but not apologetic. 

     "I'm  sick of the lies, Vanessa. You deserved it. I'm leaving." He stomped out of my house and slammed the door behind him. 

     I started to cry. He had hit me. He had never done that before. The night started out so good, I had hoped we would resolve our problems, not make more. The night had turned sour so quickly. 

     Maybe he was right. Maybe I did deserve it. Maybe I was a liar. I was so tired. I turned off the movie, put the pizza in the fridge, and crawled into bed. For the third time this week, I cried myself to sleep.