Текст книги "Sometimes Moments"

Автор книги: Len Webster

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“Y ou two have never kissed before? Like, never?” Martha asked, disbelieving. She sculled back her beer and placed it on the ground, next to her feet.

Martha Downs was the daughter of the town’s sergeant. Her being invited to their bonfire parties was mainly because she could get anyone off the hook if they were caught drinking underage. However, most things in town were overlooked or ignored. If you stirred up trouble, then the law book would be handed to you.

Peyton turned her head and stared at Callum, who was watching the fire intently. She looked back at Martha and shook her head.

“No. We’re best friends,” Peyton simply stated.

Martha’s mouth gaped and her forehead creased as she looked at Peyton in disbelief before she pointed at a couple near a tree. “See, Taylor and Kenny are just friends and they’re making out. You guys are constantly around each other. The way you both act… You’re like a couple.”

Peyton let out a nervous laugh. Sometimes she believed they could be a couple. She’d had that belief since she was thirteen, when he’d held her hand as they walked down Main Street, but she had thought too much into it.

“We’re just—”

“Why don’t you both just kiss? Show us all that you’re both just friends,” Martha said, cocking her brow and interrupting Peyton.

“I... Uhh...” Peyton mumbled and picked up her cup of Coke from the ground. She took a long sip as the party around them silenced and all eyes focused on her.

“Come on,” Martha said as she smirked and played with her curly ponytail.

“Yeah! Do it!” someone behind Peyton yelled.

“Knock it off, Martha. You get stupid when you drink,” Madilynne said, taking a seat next to Peyton.

“Please, Mads. I’m just as curious about these two as the rest of the town. I can speak my mind. My Daddy’s the sergeant, remember?”

Madilynne let out a short laugh. “Yeah, and you never let us forget it. If we’re going by social status, then I should remind you whose daddy is the mayor who employs your daddy.”

Madilynne hated to use her father’s title, but when Martha talked, Madilynne always had the urge to shut her down. It made for some interesting fights between the two.

“Come on, Pey. We’re getting out of here,” Callum said, getting up from his chair.

She looked up at him and he continued to stare at the fire, waiting for her.

“Callum, Martha’s just being a teasing bitch. Stay and party with us,” Madilynne said.

But Peyton knew otherwise. The tensing in his jaw told her that something was worrying him.

Standing up, Peyton looked at Madilynne. “I’ll see you later.”

“But it’s not even one yet,” her best friend argued.

“I have to get her home before her dad realises she snuck out, Mads. We’ll see you later,” Callum said and started to walk away.

Peyton gave Madilynne an apologetic shrug before chasing after Callum. He didn’t say anything as they walked away from the forest near the boathouse, past her parents’ hotel, and towards their street.

Peyton had always wondered what it would be like to kiss Callum, but she knew better. They were friends. Though it had hurt seeing him kiss Tasha Morecombe at Peyton’s sixteenth birthday party, it was the realisation she’d needed. So she’d buried her feelings deep.

When they arrived at their street, he surprisingly took her hand and led her quietly to the side gate of her house. Her heartbeat sped up at the feel of his touch, but she swallowed hard to ignore the bliss she felt.

Callum let go of her hand the moment they made it to her bedroom window. She leant on the tree and watched as he lifted it up. The brightness of the moon gave her the light needed to see him and the cherry blossoms that fell on the shirt he was wearing.

A girl could only dream of the day when Callum Reid asked her to be his. For Peyton, she wouldn’t be that lucky girl. She’d rather be his friend than nothing at all. It was a sacrifice her heart hated making.

Callum moved the curtains, and she watched as he looked into her room. When he glanced over at Peyton, he gave her a restrained smile.

“It’s clear. Doesn’t look like your parents noticed. The house is quiet,” he stated and leant against the weatherboards of her house.

The worry in his eyes had her frowning. “Callum, does it annoy you that people in town think more of what we actually are?”

He tensed. “Peyton…”

“Are you embarrassed at the thought of kissing me?” she asked, a little hurt.

“No,” he whispered.

Her heart threw itself against her ribcage. Not the answer she had been expecting.

So she pushed off the tree and took a step forward. “Then kiss me.”

He looked at her, surprised. “I don’t think—”

“Prove to me that we’re just friends. What are you afraid of? It’s just a kiss.”

“It’s not, Peyton.”

“It is. What are you so afraid of?” she asked, tilting her head up at him.

He let out a sigh and said, “Of falling further for you than I already am.”

Callum said it so softly that she almost missed it. She looked at him in shock at his confession. Before she could even comment or reply, he grabbed her and crashed his lips onto hers, searing her heart as his for eternity.

Warmth surrounded her. It wasn’t just a sensation that lasted mere seconds; it was prolonging. She snuggled into it and smelt wood burning. Then she opened her eyes to see the glass coffee table of her lounge room in front of her. She bunched her eyebrows at the sight. Not what she had expected to see. Her eyes wandered as she started to slowly remember her last memory before the darkness.

“That damn cat,” she mumbled as she tried to move, a blanket tight around her restricting her attempt to sit up.

“Careful, Peyton. Slowly,” a voice instructed.

She lifted her eyes up from the coffee table to see Callum walking into the room. He checked on the fireplace before he kneeled and set a cup on the table.

“Why are you in my house, Callum?” Peyton asked, groggy.

She pulled her arms from under the blanket and then sat up too quickly. Her head pounded heavily and she placed a hand on her forehead, trying to soothe the ache away.

Callum sat beside her and cradled her cheeks in his hands, steadying her face as he looked over her.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure that you’re okay. I think you should be fine. Do you need me to take you to a doctor or the local hospital?” Callum dropped his hands from her face and adjusted the blanket to cover her up more.

“I... Uhh, what?” she asked, confused.

“I found you near the gate unconscious in the storm, Peyton. What were you thinking? I found your phone on the bench once I brought you inside. Your last call was to Mads eight hour ago. I found you two hours ago. That means you were unconscious out there for almost six hours. Lucky you had that jacket on.”

“There was a cat,” she explained as she pulled the blanket off her. Then her eyes widened and she quickly covered herself, her cheeks heating instantly. “Umm, care to explain?”

Callum looked down and then back at her, his cheeks turning a rosy red. “Your jeans were soaked, so I had to pull them off you. You were out cold. I tried to wake you, but it was no use. So I, ahh, took the initiative and took your pants off.”

“Wow. Makes me glad that I wear underwear. So when sexual deviants like Callum Reid take off your pants when you’re unconscious, nothing is on show. Please tell me you didn’t do it on my lawn.”

“No, Peyton. I brought you into the house and put you on the couch. I made sure you were okay and had the fire going before I removed your pants,” Callum explained with a slight smirk on his face.

Peyton wrapped the cream blanket around her tighter and stood up from the couch. “I feel very violated right now.” Then she looked down at Callum, the colour in his cheeks fading.

“You’re upset that I took your pants off but you’re not even gonna thank me for bringing you in. Peyton, you were unconscious. What happened to you?”

She let out an irritated huff. “I was trying to get Mrs West’s cat and then I guess I didn’t see the gate swing forward from the wind. You know you could have just left me there. I don’t need saving.”

Callum stood up and looked down at her. “I wasn’t going to leave you out there. Do you really think I could live with myself if I just saw you on the ground and walked away?”

Her heart leapt. That wasn’t something she’d wanted to hear. Her heart wanted to be saved, but she knew Callum Reid wouldn’t save her. If anything, he’d ruin her…further.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I feel really uncomfortable knowing that you’ve seen me in my underwear. I might go shower, scrub off the humiliation, and then change.”

“Peyton, I’ve seen you in far less than underwear. Grab a shower. I’ll make you a new cuppa and then I’ll check out that bump you have.” His voice had softened, almost echoing the same way he’d spoken at seventeen.

She had believed him then. Now, standing wrapped in a blanket and with her hair slightly damp, she still believed him.

“Callum, that’s nice of you, but—”

He took a step forward and cupped her face in his hands. Just the feel of his fingers on her skin had Peyton biting the inside of her cheek and trying to control the tension in her chest. Callum turned her head slightly and inspected the side of her face.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“You said I was nice. I gotta make sure you don’t have a concussion. There’s no way that you’d say anything so pleasant about me,” he teased. Then his lips tugged upwards and Peyton saw the seventeen-year-old in him.

Back before the universe had tested her, she would always kiss him once that sweet smile appeared. Now, she had to be cautious of it to keep her heart safe.

She took a step back. “You’re right. Concussion has me rambling lies.”

His smile quickly faded and that glimmer of the past left his eyes. Instead, the cold version of the boy she’d once loved stood in front of her. The want for the past to be reality was hitting her. If she could have the past, she’d have him and her parents back in her life.

But that wasn’t how the universe worked. Because even when you’d lost it all, the world continued around you. It continued to create and take away. Continued to give beauty and inflict pain. Life was the never-ending journey of air and breaths. To live and to die. A domino effect of decisions and outcomes, each affecting each other. For Peyton, Callum and her parents’ deaths were just that. One after the other, she’d lost them.

“How about you take a bath, instead, and I’ll make you something to eat,” Callum offered.

She flinched, taken aback by his suggestion. “Thanks, but you should go home.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in heavily before he looked back at her. “Peyton, if I hadn’t found you, who would?”

Her shoulders sagged. He’d just won the argument she hadn’t wanted to have. She wanted him out of her house and to draw up a plan on him staying away.

“Someone would have…eventually.”

“Exactly. Eventually. Maybe the next day or the day after that. What if it had been worse than it really was? Peyton, you could have died from natural exposure or brain swelling… Anything for Christ’s sake.”

The straining vein in his neck caught her attention. This was too much involvement for someone who had left her to grow up in the small town they’d promised to leave behind.

“God! Why can’t you be like other men in this world?” she asked as she held the blanket securely around her.

Callum let out a sigh and his muscles and posture loosened. “And what do other men in this world do?”

She glared at him, noticing his pupils dilating. “They break up with a girl and never call or see her again. Why can’t you do that?”

He mirrored her glare. “I did do that, but I can’t continue to do it. Now stop arguing with me and just go have a bath!”

Peyton looked up at the ceiling and mumbled a curse before she marched past him towards the bathroom. “May God let me get hit by lightning while I’m in that tub!” she yelled angrily to him.

When she reached the bathroom door, she looked up at the ceiling. “God, if you’re listening to me, then you should know you made the wrong decision. You had to go and make that son of a bitch save me. Should have let me die, Big Man. It’d be less painful and I would have appreciated it more.”

Peyton sat in the tub with her arms crossed over her breasts and murmured her displeasure. Though she enjoyed the warm water relieving her achy muscles, she was still bitter about her saviour. It killed her inside that he had been the one to find her. If she hadn’t tried to get Mrs West’s cat, she’d have avoided all of this.

“Fucking Mr Lucky!” she cursed as she untangled her arms and placed them on the sides of the porcelain freestanding bathtub. “I’m going to kill that cat!” she promised before she submerged herself under the water.

Opening her eyes, she saw the cream-coloured ceiling all blurry under the water. She counted in her head as she continued to stare. Being submerged, she enjoyed the quietness of the water, the thunder almost silenced. If she weren’t so afraid of drowning, she’d try to reach longer than a minute without air.

Peyton sat up, quickly taking in oxygen and wiping the hair away from her face. She hung her arms over the bathtub, letting water droplets slip off her fingertips and onto the tiled floor. Another crash of thunder had her turning her head and staring out the window. It was close. She smiled at the thought of how ironic it would be if she were to actually be struck by lightning.

Just then, lightning beautifully and terrifyingly lit up the dark sky. Another flash and thunder cracked in unison. Peyton looked up at the pendant to see it continue to flicker before her.

Footsteps rushed to the bathroom door. Peyton stilled before three bangs were made against the door.

“Peyton, are you all right?” Callum shouted over the sound of thunder.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she groaned. “I’m just waiting to be struck by lightning. It shouldn’t be long now!” she yelled as she tipped her head back and closed her eyes.

“I swear to God, Peyton. If you have a window open, I’m coming in there!”

Her fingers tapped against the tub. Then she turned her head and stared at the wooden door. “Anything to see me naked. You’re such a pervert, Callum.”

She sat quietly, waiting for him to reply, but he didn’t. She didn’t hear his footsteps disappearing either, so she knew that he was still there. More minutes passed as the water in the tub started to cool.

Pulling her leg up from the water, she noticed that her toes had wrinkled, but she didn’t mind. She submerged her leg back in the water and waited. It seemed she had always being waiting for Callum.

“I almost came back, you know,” Callum said from behind the bathroom door.

Peyton kept quiet and looked at the soapy water.

“I got to the wooden ‘welcome’ sign and I parked my car on the side of the road. I sat there for an hour deciding whether or not I should see you. I’ve done that almost trip about six times, Peyton. And each of those trips, I turned around and went back to the city. At least once a year, I came back to that part of the highway. Why it’s so different now is because I made it past the sign. This time, the need to see you outweighed the consequences I’d be facing.”

The sadness in his voice caused the ache in her heart to rise to her throat. Tears silently slid down her face. Because she, too, had made it to that sign. She had parked her Volkswagen Golf in the middle of the highway and stared out in the direction of the city. But in the end, she had always done a U-turn back to town.

Peyton silently got out of the tub and reached for the towel on the counter. Not wiping the bubbles that slid down her body, she wrapped the cotton towel around her. She knew what she had to do next.

Ignoring the flung blanket on the bathroom floor, Peyton walked towards the door. She took a deep breath in attempt to settle her anxious heart. With a hard swallow, she turned the knob and pulled the door open. Then she looked down to see Callum sitting on the carpet, his back to her.

“You’re forgiven,” she whispered.

Callum quickly looked up, his sad voice from before mirroring the sorrow that consumed his eyes. He looked at her in bewilderment, and Peyton gave him a restrained smile. If he really had almost come back, then she had to send him away.

“I’m what?” Callum asked, quickly getting on his feet.

Her eyes met his, hoping he’d believe her and hoping what she’d say would be enough for him to leave town. “I forgive you, Callum. I’m not angry at you anymore.”

“Just like that?”

Peyton nodded. “Just like that,” she said before she pushed past him and walked down the hallway, towards her bedroom.

“Bullshit,” he said, stopping her.

Peyton balled her fists tight before she turned around.

Callum’s facial features tensed and his nose flared. “I call bullshit.”

“You got what you wanted, Callum. You have my forgiveness. You can go home now. I’ll see you at the wedding,” she said casually.

Her hopes of him believing what she said were dashed when he marched towards her and stared her down.

“No, you’re lying. I don’t have your forgiveness. I can see it. You’re still hurt. I haven’t earned it. I want to earn it, Peyton. I need to redeem myself. Nothing I have done has been worthy enough of you.”

In that one moment, she saw it. A flash of the first night he’d kissed her, the same unsure and afraid eyes. Somehow, she was stuck between the past and present, and it completely terrified her.

“Do you want my forgiveness or not?” she asked, tired.

Callum sighed and he shook his head. “Not like this, Peyton.”

“Then how?” she asked desperately.

“Spend some time together. Have moments together… I don’t know, Peyton. I just need to be around you. I need to make it all up to you,” Callum revealed.

Before she could tell him how absurd it sounded, a loud crash of thunder violently thrashed and the hallway light flickered once before the house darkened. The moment she couldn’t see Callum’s face, she let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll find candles,” he said.

She felt him walk past her, his arm grazing hers. “They’re—”

“Last drawer in the kitchen,” he said, cutting her off.

“How’d you know that?” she asked, turning around.

“Your house hasn’t changed, Peyton. Everything is in the same spot. It’s like you preserved this house to be the exactly how your parents left it. Get dressed and I’ll make you something to eat,” Callum said. His footsteps could be heard in the kitchen.

“Let it contain rat poison, please,” she softly begged.

Peyton pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it. The almost black room made it difficult for her to find anything. After raking around, she pulled out a pair of lacy underwear. Peyton held them up to the small amount of light coming from the window and the sight confirmed what she held.

Lace.

“Yeah, I’m gonna have to find something in the grandmother department—especially with that pervert in the kitchen.”

With a reassuring nod to herself, Peyton put the lace back in the drawer and felt around until cotton hit her fingertips. It was a comforting feeling. Cotton wasn’t as daring as lace. Why she had that sort of underwear, she didn’t know. But she never wore it. Lingerie was not her expertise. She wasn’t even sure when she’d last worn a matching set. She’d always felt it was a symbol for her life. Nothing ever matched and different pieces never fit. Instead, they always had to adjust.

Realising the extent of thought she had put into underwear, Peyton quickly slipped the pair on and rummaged in the next drawer until she found flannelette pyjama bottoms. Then she silently dressed herself. Once she was satisfied with the articles of clothing on her body, she began to towel-dry her hair. After a few minutes, she placed the damp towel over the railing of her bed and walked out of her room.

Each step that she took she ensured was long and slow. Taking time away from being with Callum was better than actually spending those minutes with him. She had offered him forgiveness. She had given him an out, and he still hadn’t taken it. He was stubborn as ever, much to her displeasure.

The flicking of ember flames caught her eye as she stepped into the darkened kitchen. The entire room was filled with lit candles. For a moment, she let herself enjoy the thoughtfulness of the extravagant use of wax. And as quickly as she enjoyed it, she forced herself to hate it. She walked towards the kitchen table and was just able to see the length of it—with the help of two lit vanilla candles.

Peyton pulled out a chair and sat down, ensuring that he heard the groan she let out. She blamed the storm, but she knew it was higher than that. She had to direct her hatred for such circumstances to Fate. And Fate was a sinister bitch when it came to Peyton. Let’s not forget Divine Intervention; she was even worse. Or he. Whatever gender, Peyton hated Divine Intervention as much as she hated Fate…and Death, too. All those bastards were working hand-in-hand against her.

A plate was placed in front of her and she looked at it. A sandwich. Perfectly cut into triangles with the crusts removed. Her heart was the first to react, becoming heavy and uncomfortable. And then her mouth formed a frown. Memory Lane was becoming an allying bastard, too.

“I’m hoping you still like Vegemite and cheese sandwiches. You had it all there, so I assumed,” Callum said as he sat in the chair in front of Peyton.

He gave her a faint smile before he stared at the candle; the flame reflected in his eyes. Not liking the circumstances she was in and the pressure on her chest, Peyton leant forward and blew out the flame that he was looking at intently.

“What was that for?” he asked. The light from the other candle on the table made his cheek visible.

Peyton sat back and gave him a shrug. “I’m not one for romance, and these candles are a red alert for me. I’d rather we eat in the dark since my first request of you to leave my house isn’t happening.”

“Fine,” Callum said before he moved closer to the last candle on the table and blew it out. Only the light from the candles behind him made some things visible. “I’m not trying to romance you, Peyton. I don’t want that.”

She rolled her eyes, not caring if he could see or not. “Me, either.”

“You don’t?”

She smirked at the curiosity in his voice. She didn’t want him to seduce her, purely because she knew her heart couldn’t withstand him for much longer.

“No, Callum Reid. You are the last man who I want romancing me.”

She was just able to see a smile on his face. And that didn’t make her feel satisfied with her response at all. She couldn’t figure him out. She had given him what he wanted, yet he wouldn’t take it. He was far too much of a mystery. A challenge her heart wanted to conquer and claim.

A tremble coursed through her. She blamed it on those feelings the seventeen-year-old she had been had harboured for him. Not the twenty-one-year-old. No, that Peyton hated the man who sat in front of her.

“Glad we can agree on something. You know you can be pretty stubborn, Peyton. Always have been. Guess with time it’s gone from pretty stubborn to definitely and proudly stubborn,” Callum pointed out.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “I’m not stubborn. You’re a challenge not worth my time. Been there, done that. I’m over you.”

There was no quick reply like she had expected. Instead, she heard the sound of a matchstick. Then the candle to her right was lit and then the one to her left. Callum blew the matchstick out and placed it on the table.

Peyton missed the darkness that had consumed him. The light provided a detailed look of anguish on his face. Her breathing became shallow, hardly reaching her lungs.

“How’d you get over me, Peyton?”

She heard the break in his voice. He hadn’t seemed to notice it, but she had. That vulnerability made her heart leap, filling it with useless hope.

“It was easy.”

“How easy?” he asked.

Peyton sensed the hurt in his question. “It was a completely and utterly simple task,” she stated as she sat up and uncrossed her arms. Then she picked up the sandwich and took a large bite, internally cursing him for having remembered one of her favourite foods.

“Do tell,” he said with a raised brow.

“What’s to tell, Callum? It’s simple. You ripped out my heart, crushed it in your hands, and forced it back in my chest. You left me with a gripping ache for four years. That’s how I got over you—because I had to. Because life made me.”

Her throat tightened and she found it difficult to hold back a sob, but she’d be damned if he saw her like he had in the forest. Never again.

“How did life make you get over me?”

Peyton put the sandwich back on the plate and stood up, looking down at him. He had grown since they were together. He’d experienced more and seen things she hadn’t. She closed her eyes for a moment before she stared at him. The regret in his eyes was something she winced at.

“Because life…God…the universe…any higher power out there killed my parents and broke me more than you could have. Grieving their deaths made it easier to forget you. I didn’t just get over you. I forgot you. I had to.”

Lie. Death made me remember you more.

“Can we stop this?” he asked softly.

“Stop what?”

“This back and forth. I know that I hurt you and betrayed your trust. It’s not like I forgot, Peyton. I had to live with it for the last four and a half years. I wasn’t there when I needed to be. But I am now. I came here seeking your true forgiveness. So that when you’re old and married, you don’t think back and hate me for the rest of your life. Can we just be friends…or at least something along those lines?”

He didn’t turn away and his voice rang with certainty. Hope was also recognisable. And Hope was a close friend to Fate and her arsenal of bastards—probably more like sick lovers.

For once, she appreciated the darkness around her. The hurt inside would no doubt be plastered on her face. The lack of light gave her a comforting veil to hide behind.

“We can be whatever you want, Callum. Frankly, I don’t really care or understand. Since you have my whole life figured out for me, you should know that I would say get the hell out of my house… But I’m not. Stay until morning. The storm will be finished by then. Blankets are where you think they are. I’m going to bed. The couch is yours, ‘friend or at least something along those lines,’” Peyton said.

Then she walked towards her room, not waiting for him to reply, allowing her pride to win and accept that she’d gotten the last word.