Opposite Force

Chapter Eight

Mikaela Martin | Present

Peyton's leaning against my locker, smiling brightly as if it isn't 7:45 a.m. on a Tuesday. All sorts of happy, giddy feelings shoot through my body, but I can't say I'm glad to see him.

I look horrible. Atrocious. Sleep-deprived. Mainly because I am. I was up until three in the morning thinking about our kisses. The first one, and then the second one, and the goodbye one... I didn't want to sleep because sleeping would mean not thinking about Peyton for hours at a time. Last night, I wasn't about to let that happen.

Clearly, that was a terrible idea, because now Peyton is about to witness how ugly I am when I'm overtired.

"Hey, cutie."

I feel my cheeks go scarlet, even though he's probably just saying that to be nice. The purple bags under my eyes are anything but cute. "Hi," I squeak.

"What class do you have now?" he asks.

"English," I sigh. "What about you?"

"You sound thrilled," he laughs. "Yo tengo español."

"No me gusta español." I'm serious. I might be a school nerd, but I really don't like Spanish. Most subjects come easy to me, but language ties my brain into knots. I'm terrible at English grammar, and Spanish is my worst class.

"Yo..." he trails off. "Yo same."

Another giggle leaves my lips as I shove textbooks and notebooks into my tote.

"I forgot to tell you last night," Peyton says, "I convinced Coach Howland to let us play dodgeball again. We were supposed to go back to tennis."

"You're my hero," I sigh. Once again, I'm serious.

"It's a sacrifice because it means I can't be your partner," he continues.

I'm going to spontaneously combust. Right here, right now, on my way to the language wing. What a way to go. "A true hero," I laugh.

I swallow a gasp when Peyton's fingers lace through mine. I know we have a thing going on—a fling, as Annalise or Sarah would call it—but I didn't think Peyton would want to display it. Not yet at least.

Georgia Randall does a double-take when she sees us holding hands. As in, she turns around to say something to Liana Hayward, notices that Peyton Warner and nerd girl are holding hands, and spins around to confirm her eyes aren't deceiving her. Georgia is the first of many. People turn on their heels. They blatantly stare. Callum O'Hara very loudly asks Mark Rossio if we're together. Nora Sinclair screeches, "Oh my God!" to Aria Vandenberg.

Peyton rolls his eyes. "That was worse than Coach's whistle," he grumbles.

He's not wrong. If she were any closer, I'd be worried about my eardrums. Luckily, they remain intact, so I pull my eyes from the onlookers and focus on laughing with Peyton. I still feel the stares, but getting lost in our conversation is easy. Peyton is definitely distracting.

Annalise is waiting outside Mr. Quentin's English classroom. "Hello!" she squeals, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly.

"Hey, Annalise," Peyton says warmly.

"Congrats on the win Friday," she replies. She doesn't give him time to respond before she turns to me and states accusingly, "You're always here before me. I thought you were sick or something."

"Nope." I shake my head for emphasis. "Wait. You thought I was sick but you didn't go into class anyway?"

"I came out to text you." She shows me her phone. A half-written message in our chat is on the screen. "I was worried. I'm the best best friend in the world."