It Doesn't Do Well to Dream

Chapter 8

She had locked herself in her room shortly after Lex left. Peyton still hadn't been able to get her crying fully under control and answering questions from the house staff wasn't something she really wanted to do at the moment.

Curled up on top of her comforter she rubbed at her wet eyes and hiccuped. Every time she thought of the pill bottle her gut churned and her chest hurt.

Drugging her. He'd actually remembered that she'd stayed longer after taking cough syrup and thought of a way to use that, what was to him, years later. How could he look her in the eyes as she unknowingly sipped at the coffee he'd given her? How could he be ok knowing how unnerved she was at being stuck in another body that wasn't quite hers in a universe that she didn't belong in?

She shouldn't have trusted him so easily. He was, after all, a spoiled, selfish rich kid.

A desperate rich kid, some betraying voice in her head added. But it didn't quench her ire. It didn't matter how lonely or desperate someone was, you didn't just lie and violate someone you were supposed to be friends with like that.

Her brick of a cell phone was vibrating on the mattress beside her. It had gone off a couple times now and Peyton assumed it would continue on for the rest of the night. But she refused to answer it. She didn't want to talk to him tonight.

Consequences. There were consequences for actions, and he was going to figure out this was one of them.

She'd told him that she didn't hate him, and that was true. Despite her anger she could

honestly see what fear he could be acting off of, and he would have to just believe her. Like she'd believed him until now.

Eventually she forced herself to get up and get over herself a bit and get ready for bed. Most of her day had been wasted with her staring blankly at the wall and simmering in bitter betrayal, but enough was enough. Peyton went through the steps of her nightly routine, letting the familiar actions comfort her and mentally calculated how long until she might wake up home.

Lex had given her a coffee before she'd figured him out, so she had at least until the next day for her body to work through the sleep aide.

Lord, he'd been giving her at least one pill a day. No wonder he'd been so insistent on visiting her.

She probably had one more day. One more day before she could wake up in her own adult body and try to untangle the mess her life had probably become. If luck were on her side not much time had passed in her universe. Maybe she wasn't late for work. Maybe she wouldn't be fired the minute she opened her eyes and maybe her mother wouldn't be an emotional mess kneeling at her bedside.

Peyton rubbed at her eyes again and groaned.

A knock on her bedroom door reminded her that she didn't actually live in this manor alone. She cleared her throat, glad that she'd stopped crying and her eyes weren't as red as they had been earlier.

"Yeah?"

"Miss Woods? Are you feeling alright? You skipped dinner."

"Oh. Did I?"

The clock on her nightstand read seven thirty. Stewing, she'd been stewing for the entire day and she hadn't even realized it.

"Get it together, Peyton," she muttered to herself. "This isn't you."

"Miss?"
She sighed and gestured at the door even if they couldn't see.

"You can come in."

The door eased open and Peyton tried to arrange her face into a less despondent expression. Why did she care so much anyway? Lex was only a kid she'd known for a smattering of days; and now she knew just what kind of person he was. Or could be, at least. She was behaving much too melodramatic for her own liking.