Promising Peyton

Chapter One

Peyton Martinez

Rewind to my first day. If I had just so happened to find myself in a class that I could not even call entertaining at the slightest, I would absent-mindedly stare around the room until I could fortunately lay my eyes on something that piqued my interest.

Alex Turner was my new founded conquest, not that he was particularly my type, but he was rather interesting and a sight for sore eyes.

That was my type.

However, we ended up being totally different so I preferred to be just friends.

He was surrounded by an aura of sophistication and maturity, which deemed him as quite the bore. He was predictable and I was more into spontaneity.

So, I cut off all ties and instead chose to dive headfirst into a friendship with someone who could only be described as the literal opposite of myself.

Now fast forward to the present.

"And that's how you do it."

Alex had been trying to teach me Calculus for over an hour.

Had I been paying attention? Not quite. But I sure appreciated his dedication.

We had grown close within the past month and somehow I'm glad that we never turned into something more.

"You're not even listening, are you?" He groaned.

"Come on, Alex. Give me a break. It's a Friday night and you're sitting here tutoring me when I could be out having a great time." I shrugged, leaning over and grabbing a handful of blueberries.

"That's not the point. We have an exam in two weeks and you can hardly solve a simple equation." He pointed out, closing the textbook and shooting me a quick look of disapproval.

"Yes, and when the time comes, I'll do exactly what I know how." I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"I'm assuming you're just going to wing it?" He paused and based on my silence, Alex knew he was right. "Seriously, Peyton. That can't fix all of your problems."

I huffed in annoyance. If I wanted to be bossed around, I would just call Gianna.

Gianna was my sister, and although I loved her dearly, she was a legitimate nightmare in stilettos.

Alex had gained the respect of every member of my so-called family, as he is a nerd with his only priority being academics.

But Jason, my brother, couldn't care less as long as my male acquaintances kept their hands to themselves and certain body parts in their pants.

"Suit yourself. I'd just hate to see you fail when I know how capable you are of making me proud." I raised my eyebrows at this statement.

The word 'proud' was a very significant part of his sentence, as it had sent an unfamiliar sensation through me.

"You sound like a parent." I laughed. Not one of mine though.

Despite our closeness, I had yet to tell him the pathetic sob story that is the Martinez family. But, a part of me didn't want to divulge that information in fear of him thinking differently of me.

"Are you alright?" He nudged me. I glanced at him, and shrugged.

A door slammed, followed by a masculine voice. "Peyton! You home?"

"Jason." I breathed, hopping off the bar stool and making my way into the den.

He didn't look pleased, but his eyes held a form of happiness as his gaze suddenly met mine.

"Hey? I thought you weren't supposed to be home until tonight." I raised an eyebrow, confusion etching my features.

He shook his head, and instead exhaled, as if he were holding his breath.

"Jason." I stated, firmly this time. This caught his attention.

"Dad's coming home. And this time, he has something to tell us." He explained.

"Something to tell us. What could be so important that he would leave his job?" I interrogated, curiosity getting the best of me.

At the time, I figured that nothing could have possibly been worse than our father being the exact definition of a workaholic.

But, as those next few words left Jason's mouth, my only wish was to turn back the clock to prevent myself from asking any questions.

If it hadn't been for my friend in the next room, I would've screamed.

"He's getting married."