War Zones and Paradise

Chapter Thirteen, Part Two - Sin City

The result?

Madness.

I had never seen anything like it–except maybe on Discovery Channel, deep in the savannas of the wild kingdom.

Like gazelles sprinting from lions, A'keem and Peyton never stood a chance.

"Fuckboy." I spat the word in his face, then hightailed back to the party.

Maybe I should've been thinking more about Cody's feelings, or Santana's, but truth was, I was more concerned with my own state of being.

A'keem didn't belong to me, but that didn't make him any less mine. I cherished every little thing about him–from his talk and his swag, to the way he made me think. The spell Tyler had once cast over me, I had since woven over A'keem; his heart was mine to twist and squeeze...

And therein lay the difference between Peyton, and me.

We were all addicts, in our own way, but I knew how to whet my appetite without overdosing.

Not that A'keem made it easy. He was so hard to resist, even though I knew there would never be anything more to us than fading smiles and lingering glances. He was all a dream.

Except when he wasn't.

Catching him fucking Peyton in the backseat of his ride had revealed A'keem as equal parts imperfect and nightmare–like picking out a horror book you mistook for romance.

Awful as a car crash–but you couldn't look away.

I caught up with Tyler, immediately told him what happened, and we left. That was it. There were no hateful good-byes, no tearful promises of revenge, and definitely no more drama-cake. On the way out, as Tyler was cursing and apologizing for forcing me to crash yet another of Peyton's miserable parties, I thought about going back... And didn't.

As much as Cody had disappointed me, that stubborn idiotic fool was still a part of me. He would hear the truth, just not on his birthday.

Or from me.

* * *

Monday afternoon, Peyton sidled into the dance studio, for practice, like it was any other day. Maybe she thought her Burberry sunglasses did a good job covering her misdeeds from the weekend, but the girl still looked like a rose covered in shit. I knew damn well she wouldn't have bothered to show her face at all if the tutoring hadn't been a clause in her contract.

I was stretching on a floor mat when Peyton dumped her small duffel bag on the smooth, shiny floor. She removed her sunglasses, frowning at the empty room's emptiness.

"Where is everyone?" she said. "Did I miss something?"

"I cancelled practice." I climbed to my feet, dusting off my hands. "You didn't get the e-mail."

"Clearly." Peyton folded her arms over her chest. "So why am I here?"

I stared at the girl, knowing the wall between us was a very poor defense. Her stance was cold and aloof, but her eyes were red, still glassy from the tears of her own betrayal. She was sorry.

But not sorry enough.

Not like she would be...

"Why, Peyton? Why would you do that to him? And on his birthday--what were you thinking?"

"I wasn't. And I wasn't thinking the first time we did it either--"

"My god. You are such a bitch."