Opposite Force

Chapter Five

Mikaela Martin | Present

I expected Peyton to live in one of the mansions in the west part of town, but he's actually only a couple miles down the street from me. I pull into the driveway in front of a white ranch with overgrown gardens and a maroon door adorned with a green and pink wreath. A bit of anxiety evaporates from my chest. Peyton's house has a welcoming feel to it.

As welcoming as Peyton, who's waving in front of the closed garage door.

I really can't believe this is happening.

"Mikaela!"

Thank God I put on extra deodorant. This is too much to handle.

"Hi, Peyton." My voice comes out all soft and embarrassing. Maybe it will get stronger as the night goes on, the way it did when we played twenty questions.

"Your parents were cool with you coming over?" he asks.

I wouldn't be here otherwise. "Yeah, my mom is fine with it."

"Awesome." He grins. "It sounded like you were in high demand Friday. I'm glad I got to see you at the game, even if it was across the bleachers. Sarah said you had to leave after."

He was asking for me? Why did Sarah neglect to inform me of this?

"Oh, yeah. I was, uh, tired," I reply and immediately turn bright red. Tired? Really, Mikaela? The game ended at ten. On a Friday. "I was up late Thursday," I add. It's a pathetic excuse, but I'm really trying here. "Congrats on winning, by the way."

"Thanks! It was a close one. Are you into football?"

I don't want to lie to Peyton, but I also don't want to hurt his feelings. "Uh... It's fun to watch." Nice save, Mikaela.

"If you aren't just saying that, maybe you could sit by the bleachers with me next game."

"Am I allowed to?" I blurt out like the rule-obsessed loser that I am.

"Senior privileges."

"Oh wow, yeah. Yeah, definitely."

"You're awesome," he says, almost in a sigh.

I must be hearing him incorrectly. "What?!"

"You're awesome," he repeats. "You'd sit front row at a football game even though you don't like football. That's just... I don't know. Awesome. Want anything to drink? Sorry. I should have invited you inside already. I'm bad at this."

"Bad at what?" I can't help but ask. I don't think Peyton Warner is bad at anything.

"Talking to girls who are out of my league."

I freeze. Literally freeze mid-step, causing Peyton to bump into me on my way through his front door. The scent of his cologne, which is earthy and delectable, overpowers my nose. "Wh-what?" I splutter. "Did you... You didn't..."

"What?" He actually sounds confused.

"Did you just say I'm out of your league?" I squeak.

"Yeah," he replies. His cheeks are tinged pink.

"Peyton, look at you. You're out of my league."

"How?"

Is Peyton Warner unaware that he's perfect? I find that hard to believe. "You're quarterback, you're smart, you're h... You're nice, you're friends with everybody..." I trail off.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I feel like even with that stuff, not that all of it is true, you're still way better than me. You won that award. That science award."