Deal Breakers

Prolugue

(DEAR BOOK CLUB MEMBERS, this chapter is NOT over 1000 word count. Please read if you'd like but no need for comments.)

"Deal breakers?" I repeated, clearly confused. Peter was going on about some game show he wanted us to audition for, apparently, it could pay for our wedding if we won.

"Yes, ten couples compete on obstacle courses for six weeks." Peter ran a milky hand through his dark brown hair. "The last couple standing wins a hundred thousand bucks. I think we should try out!"

I grimaced. "Peter," I said with a shake of my head. "There has to be a catch, it can't just be us running through some tires on the ground."

"This isn't simple stuff, they said there would be river rafting, maybe even sky diving." Peter took a seat beside me, taking my hands in his. They fit perfectly, like Xanax I relax. One of the many positive effects Peter has on me. "Layla, I know we can do this and when we win the cash, it can pay for the wedding and our honeymoon!"

I didn't have the heart to tell him no. I rarely tell Peter no. Of course, a free wedding and honeymoon would be amazing, but I wasn't an outdoor person, and sky diving? I'll be the reason we lose.

"I feel like there's a catch," I said with another sigh.

"Well," Peter shrugged his shoulders, in a conspicuous way that tells me there is more to this than just sky diving. "They need a family member of the couple to come on the show too."

"Why?" I asked feeling a little more pressured. Peter's mom passed away senior year of high school, the only family he had was his dad and younger brother Chase.

"They didn't say yet, but it's probably for couples trivia or something." He gave me his best puppy dog eyes. "Please, Layla?"

"Fine," I groaned. "We'll make the audition tape."

Peter jumped up, pulling me with him. "Fantastic!" He pulled me into a hug and my feet lifted off the ground. He was 5'11, a giant compared to my 5'3 frame. Peter, with his dark brown hair styled in a perpetual state of messy perfection, exuded an aura of confidence that bordered on arrogance. His hazel eyes, usually gleaming with playful competitiveness, held a hint of desperation.

I tucked a piece of my caramel-colored hair behind my ear. "Don't hate me if we lose."

Peter's happy expression vanished. "Babe, I'm too competitive to lose. We are going to win." He said so sure, so confident.

I sighed deeper this time. I know how much he hates losing, we had to throw Monopoly out of the apartment because he didn't talk to me for a whole day after I won two games in a row. "That's what worries me."

I rolled my brown eyes, the icky feeling building in my stomach. Peter and I have been high school sweethearts, we started dating near the end of senior year. We were friends before dating, the three amigos. Peter, Chase, and I.

Peter had just recently proposed to me on our trip to Boston in December, he hid the ring in my lobster roll and I almost ate it, thank god I didn't. He's not exactly a romantic, my near-death experience was as close as he got to trying to be romantic and I love him for that.

"I'm going to call Dad," Peter called from our bedroom. "He's going to be so excited."

I was still glued to the cream-colored sofa in our living room. I thought about our freshman year of high school, how it had always been the three of us until Chase left for NYU, leaving Peter and me here at UCLA.

Chase and Peter were opposites. Peter was the school's hero, the Lacoste champ everyone needed. He had quite a few girls chasing after him when he asked me out. At first, I declined him, because we'd always been friends for so long- and part of me thought Chase was going to ask, but he never did.

Chase Graham excelled at everything academic, which made sense since he left for NYU to study law. Last we'd heard anyway, Chase went radio silent after their mom died our senior year of high school.

The Grahams were the only family I knew, my parents both died when I was ten years old. My only living grandmother raised me until I went to college, which sometimes made me feel like an orphan girl. They were even there for me when Nana Beth died.

Peter peeked his head into the living room, "Dad says he can't wait to see us on TV!"

I just gave him a meek smile. "Me too." I turned to face the window, outside, the California sun cast an orange glow through the window, highlighting the motes of dust dancing in the afternoon light.