Page 6 of The Monster I Am
“I sleep just fine, thank you,” I shoot back.
Wrong.
I haven’t slept soundly since that night. None of us have.
My dear cousin finally relents, sensing that she’s not going to win this argument. The two of us fall into silence, and when thebuzz buzzthat’s been happening all evening starts back up, I finally snap.
“Who the hell keeps texting you so much?” I grumble. “At least turn the damn vibration off. I can practically feel the table humming. It’s been going off since we got here.”
Peyton’s cheeks flush as she quickly snatches up her phone. “No one,” she answers hastily.
“You’re a shit liar.”
“So are you.”
I snort. “Give me some credit, Peyton. Do you really think I didn’t see you dancing with that Cedar Heights douchebag at the dance? It’s him, isn’t it?”
Her eyes flash dangerously. “Steele is not a douchebag. And that’s none of your business.”
“Seriously?” I snarl. “Out of all the students, you decided one from Cedar Heights was your best option?”
Peyton leans forward, locking eyes with me. “Do you speak to Rylan like that? He’s the one who kissed Bexley in the middle of the hallway. So don’t you dare criticize my choices.”
“I do speak to him like that actually,” I quip back confidently. “I have, many times, in fact.”
Shaking her head, Peyton stands with a scoff. “You’re ridiculous, Hunter. After what happened to Bexley, you still don’t have it in you to show an ounce of compassion.”
“What happened doesn’t change the feud—”
“Fuck the stupid feud!” she shouts back. “Why the hell do I have to spend my life holding on to hatred and negativity toward a bunch of people I don’t even know? I deal with enough of that from our own circle.”
Tears swell in her eyes, and I realize I’ve taken this too far.
“Peyton—”
“I’m done for tonight,” she exclaims, reaching for her bag. “I’ll wait outside for my driver.”
Standing, I soften my tone and expression in desperation. “We had a deal. You can’t go yet.”
“I’m not hanging around you for another hour,” she sneers defiantly, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “You’re supposed to be in my corner—the one person who doesn’t make me feel like shit. But when you start your Cedar Heights bullshit, it makes me feel embarrassed for you.”
“It’s not like that,” I attempt pathetically, unsure where I’m going with the explanation.
Peyton scoffs. “It’s exactly like that. You’re the perfect spitting image of Uncle Marcus. In fact, I’d say you’re actually worse. At least he’s pretending to care. You can’t even manage that for one dinner around me. This was supposed to be about me. But somehow, you managed to makemyeating disorder aboutyou.”
“Peyton, stop.”
I follow her out of the dining room, keeping pace as she stomps toward the front door. She ignores me, nearly connecting my face with the door as she violently swings it open.
“Stop!” I try again, pleased when she at least pauses to turn around.
“I’m not going to throw up,” she says quietly, tone still angry. “So you don’t have to worry about that being on your conscience.”
“I’m sorry, Pey,” I tell her sincerely. “This is about you. Iamin your corner. It’s just been a weird week.”
Peyton folds her arms. “Do you know how hard it was for me to admit everything to you?” She asks. “I cried all that night after I went home. I told myself it would be okay. That I’d feel better admitting the truth to someone I trust. You’re the only relative and friend I have.”
I let her continue, just nodding to show that I’m listening.
