Page 130 of Like a Power Play
“Well, Idid, but it was—”
Cleo tosses her hands in the air.“Halleluja!”
I grunt, hopping off the bed and grabbing a Seven-Up from the mini-fridge, using my foot to shut the door. “Will you knock it off? None of this is funny.”
She’s grinning so hard it’s a miracle her face hasn’t split. “No. You’re right.”
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “It’s hilarious.”
A frown pulls at my lips and I catch the time on the microwave clock. “Don’t you have study group soon?”
Cleo rolls her eyes. “Nice try, but you’re not deflecting.”
She glances at the time.
“Shit,” she mutters, then whips back to me, making eye contact with the camera. “Okay. I have to go. But we are talking about this when you get back.”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” I say, holding up my free hand like that’ll make it true. “It happened once. And it is never, ever happening again.”
“Just once?” Cleo asks, one brow arching as she slings her purse over her shoulder. Just as I’m about to admit that I might have also kissed her in a public bathroom, room service knocks at my door.
“Hold on,” I say, strolling over to open it.
And when I do, I want to chuck myself in front of a semi-truck. Because there, on my hotel doorstep like a fucking 90’s sitcom, is Peyton.
Her hair’s wet, tumbling over her shoulders in slick waves, beanie pulled snug over her ears, and she’s in a fresh set of clothes. The moment her eyes catch mine, she freezes.
“Peyton?” I ask, for some fucking reason.
On the other end of the phone, Cleo squeals.
“This isn’t—I don’t know what she’s doing here,” I blurt out. But Cleo’s already made up her mind.
“Sure, Darce.” She calls out through the phone. “Hey Pey!”
“Hi, Cleo,” Peyton says awkwardly. Cleo blows two kisses through the screen, winks, then hangs up. The moment she does, Peyton’s eyes find mine.
She looks…beat up. A fresh bruise is blooming along the edge of her chin, and as she shifts, she winces a bit, like her shoulder is still sore. But she’s still, of course, annoyingly pretty.
“Why are you here, Peyton?” I ask, not inviting her in.
She stays in the doorway, hands buried deep in the pocket of her hoodie.
“You left,” she says simply.
I let out a huff. “And why do you think that is?”
A sheepish smile creeps across her face as she begins rocking on the balls of her feet. “I mean, you did say ‘crash and burn’.”
“I didn’t mean for you to ram full speed into my ex!”
“First of all, that was half-speed at best,” she mutters. She takes one cautious step forward but stops short of crossing the line into the room. “And they’re saying it was an accident.”
I cross my arms. “Well? Was it?”
Those bright golden eyes meet mine. “Do you want it to be?”
“I want to know you didn’t get a misconduct just to be petty!”
