Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
As if on cue, the limousine I rented for the night is idling in the driveway. Technically, it’s easier for me to pick Peyton up, but I want her to have the full experience. Also, Elle and her date will join us for the ride over. That is one thing I’ve learned about living in a massive city like Portland – the teens really go out of their way to make prom something spectacular. In little ole Beaumont, it’s held at the school gym with paper streamers and balloon arches. That’s how it was when my parents went, and it was the same way when I went. I can’t imagine much has changed.
The black limo stops in front of the Powell-James home, and I’m out of the car with Peyton’s corsage in my hand before the driver can do his job by opening my door. I’ll let him focus on the girls and let them feel like a million dollars. One would think considering how famous their dad is, boys would flock to them, but they don’t. When Quinn and I were in high school, it was the other way around, and we learned early on our popularity had a lot to do with our fathers. Believe me, Quinn and I don’t mind if the girls are left alone.
Harrison opens the front door before I reach the final step. Even though I’ve known him for half my life, I extend my right hand to shake his. “Good evening, Mr. Powell-James.” Harrison tries to hide his smile but accepts my hand firmly.
“Evening, Noah. Peyton is almost ready.”
I follow him into the house and am immediately introduced to a tall lanky kid in a tuxedo. “Noah, this is Ben. He’s Elle’s best guy friend.”
We shake hands, but it’s awkward. “You’re Noah Westbury.”
No shit.
“Man, this is surreal. I mean, Peyton said you were taking her, but most of us thought she was bullshitting us.”
I shake my head slightly. “Nope, no bullshitting here. I’m happy to take her to prom.”
“Man, the guys at school are going to flip,” Ben says. He turns his back toward me and from what I can gather is pulling out this phone. There isn’t a doubt in my mind he’s informing everyone of my presence. Unfortunately for him and his “guys” I won’t sign autographs or pose for pictures tonight unless Peyton instructs me to. This is her night.
The sound of heels coming down the hardwood steps grabs my attention. I step out into the entryway in time to see Katelyn leading her twin daughters down the stairs.
“Thank you,” she whispers into my ear before giving me a kiss on my cheek. I don’t tell her that it’s my pleasure, but I should.
When Peyton comes into view, all wind is knocked out of my proverbial sail. She’s gorgeous with her long tresses curled and pinned to the top of her head, and her dress… I swallow hard and chance a look at Harrison. His eyes are hard and there’s a noticeable tick in his jaw.
“The night of your prom, you wore that pink dress. Do you remember it, Peyton? When you were coming down the stairs I thought Harrison was going to make you go change. I can’t even tell you what Elle was wearing because I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Everything changed for us that night. I thought things were going to turn out differently, but I was wrong.”
I stand up and stretch. A quick glance out her window shows my father and Harrison talking. I’d like to think my father won’t sell me out, but who knows at this point. The fact that Peyton and I have been intimate shouldn’t matter, and won’t if she doesn’t make it. It was her choice, and I was too enamored with her to tell her no. I thought we’d be together afterward, but I was mistaken.
My dad glances toward me or at least at the room. I’m not ready to leave Peyton. It’s selfish of me, I know. There are others out there that want their time with her, but I can’t bring myself to walk out the door or even invite them back in.
The hard plastic chair is as inviting as being sacked in an outdoor stadium. Both suck beyond words. Yet, I find myself sitting down and picking her hand back up. Her body temperature is questionable, and probably a bit on the cold side. I refuse to believe she’s dying. Peyton wouldn’t do that to me.
“Okay, you’re going to let up on the break, but do so gently.”
It’s midnight and Peyton’s birthday. Legally, I’m not allowed to teach her to drive, but she asked me to. She’s nervous about her permit test in the morning and thinks that a crash course behind the wheel of my Wrangler is the way to pass. She’s not fooling me though. I know she’s been waiting for this day since I got my Jeep for my eighteenth birthday. Peyton is often hanging out in my dad’s garage, taking pictures of herself in it, so who am I to deny her this late night or early morning ride.