Peyton Church is a city girl by anyone's standards. Born and raised in New York City, she grew up wanting for nothing. She attended the most prestigious preparatory schools, shopped on Fifth Avenue, dined with the rich and famous and was adored by...
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WE SPEND THE night at Cameron's house.
He offers to let me sleep in his room— he's actually quite insistent on it. But a glare from Hunter and a dismissive laugh from me silences him, and he informs Hunter that he knows where the spare room is.
He tugs me up the stairs playfully, leaving Cameron and Tomas to clean up the mess of bottles and cans and cups. We've each only had a couple of drinks, but I would be lying if I didn't say I'm kind of a lightweight. It isn't the same kind of wasted I get from my parents' expensive liquor cabinet, that much is for sure. But, the cheap beer and canned cocktails have seemed to get me just buzzed enough not to care that Hunter's fingers keep slipping under the hem of my shirt and grazing the skin of my waist.
"Well, you seem like you had a good time," he grins, coaxing me into the guest room by his firm grip on my waist and closing the door firmly behind us. "Glad you came?"
"You mean, glad my mother all but shoved me out the door?" I correct him, giggling to myself for no particular reason. "I guess. I like your friends, they're fun."
Its the truth, even if my words do slur together just a bit. Cameron and Tomas were actually hilarious, and I have to admit, Hunter's slightly more bearable when surrounded by his friends.
Hunter's smug smirk curves at his lips. "Well, I'm glad to hear it wasn't the worst night of your life."
I shake my head, my hair whipping around playfully. "Nope. That honor is reserved for the night I came home to find out my parents were getting a divorce. And that was only a couple weeks ago."
His smile falters as I dump a Staten Island sized boulder on the mood. "Shit, I'm sorry. That must've been horrible."
"Yup," I chime, popping my 'p'. My mood in no way matches the tone of our conversation. I mean, normally teenagers don't giggle and smile while talking about their parents' recent divorce.
But, apparently Drunk Peyton does.
"Where's your dad in all this?" Hunter asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans and leaning casually against the door. "I know you moved here with your mom and your brother, but you must still talk to him or something, right?"
I shake my head again, this time opting to walk around the relatively small room and inspect every surface. "I haven't talked to him since before we left, actually. He's too busy running off with his secretary or some shit. But whatever. I mean, I like seeing my mom happy. And, for whatever reason, being back in Rock Valley makes her happy."
"It's not the worst place in the world, you know," Hunter informs me, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. "It's actually a nice place when you look past some of the questionable residents and the outdated paint jobs."
