Sometimes Moments (18 page)

Peyton blinked once.

She turned her head and looked at the Polaroid picture of them sitting on the pier together. It had been a good memory of them—one she had reflected on throughout the years. He might have not loved her, but he cared—his tattoo proved it.

“Okay,” she said, her eyes still on the picture. Her mother would be proud about that one word. She turned and met his stare. “But can I ask you a favour?”

“Anything.”

While staring at his tattooed arm, Peyton smiled at the way the letters of her name joined together perfectly. For whatever reason, it was sentimental to him. And the thought had her breathing out as she kept her eyes on his hands across her knees.

He can’t keep my name tattooed on his wrist… I don’t want to be a reminder.

“When you leave, can you get my name removed? That reason behind it isn’t necessary anymore. I shouldn’t be a reminder for you.”

His hands left her for a moment before he placed a finger under her chin, lifting her head to meet his. Then he gave her sorrowful smile and nodded.

“Okay. It’ll be the first thing I do when I leave town. I promise, Peyton.” His voice was wrapped in a delicate and painfully beautiful whisper.

Her heart ripped wide open. Callum Reid would wind up breaking her heart all over again. And for some reason, Peyton was willing to once again feel the pain he’d inflict once goodbye had left his lips.

C
allum didn’t say anything else. Instead, he kept his eyes planted on various parts of her face. First, it was her eyes, then her nose, and then finally her mouth. That’s when her breathing decided—in that very moment—that it was an unnecessary function. Peyton wished her lungs would work. Just enough to say that his gaze didn’t leave her breathless…and hopeless…and
desperate.

Air. Shit. I need air.

“Can I ask you a favour, Peyton?” he asked, his eyes still locked on her mouth. She couldn’t deny the fact that she, too, was staring.

Afraid of the possible shakiness and betrayal in her voice, Peyton nodded.

Callum’s fingers slowly trailed from under her chin to her cheek, lightly brushing against her skin and almost giving her a heart attack. The sigh he had exhaled echoed in the air before he cupped her face firmly in his palms, his actions requiring her attention. It was then that her lips instantly parted as she took in the features of his face.

She used to stare at his chin dimple when he smiled. She thought back to the days he’d sat next to her in class. When he’d brush his chin as he worked on his questions and she’d stare until he’d look over at her with a raised eyebrow. She’d laugh in the middle of the lesson and the rest of the class would gawk at them. In this moment with him, she wished they were back there, in that classroom. Back to simple times.

“Peyton,” he breathed, and she quickly met those grey pools of conflicted and frustrating emotions.

She swallowed hard, trying to regain some form of composure. “What’s your favour?”

He didn’t turn away or blink. He kept his gaze hard on her. “Promise me that you won’t let me kiss you? I can’t lose focus on
why
I’m here. And I can’t let anything happen between us. You can’t let me kiss you, okay?”

Her heart plunged, leaving a sick and tight knot in the pit of her stomach. No kissing. She shouldn’t be so disappointed. If anything, she should be relieved. She wouldn’t travel down that path, but deep down, she wanted to know what his lips felt like…for one last time.

Straightening her back, she gave him a firm nod and said, “Scout’s honour, Callum Reid,” before sticking up her pinkie.

His lips curved upwards, and then he entwined his pinkie with hers. “Scout’s honour, Peyton Spencer.”

They both laughed, acknowledging the time they were Cubs in Scouts Victoria. The only reason why she quit the Scouts was because she hadn’t liked one of the older Venturer girls—the one who’d dunked her in the mud pit of the obstacle course. Callum was the one who had pulled her out and quit Scouts the next day with her.

He gently pushed on her knees and stood up properly. When he took her hand and helped her up, Peyton tried to ignore the tingles that his touch ignited.

“What’s
our
plan today, Scout Peyton?” he asked and let go of her hand.

She was sure that he could feel the sweat of her hand. He made her nervous and uncomfortable. As discreetly as she could, she wiped her hand on her pyjama bottoms.

Then she let out a sigh and picked up the plate of untouched food. “I have to go check on the hotel and make sure the storm damage isn’t too bad.”

“Can I come with you?” he asked.

Peyton walked out of her room and into the kitchen. She was surprised when she saw that it was clean. From the noise he’d made, she’d been sure she would have been standing in the middle of a bombsite. The kitchen was immaculate, more so than when she had gone to bed. She set the plate on the counter and faced him.

“I’m just going to survey the hotel and then pick up some paperwork that I left behind. I have to get everything ready for when the staff return on Monday. Sure you want to come?” Peyton asked, reaching for an apple in the fruit bowl. She shined it against her tank top and took a big bite, staring at him.

“I’d love to,” he said. Then he winked.

Peyton rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess I can show you my plans for Oscar and Marissa’s wedding.”

“Sounds good. Meet you here in fifteen? I’ll just go back to my parents’ place and shower. That’s enough time for you?”

Peyton took another bite and shook her head, placing the apple on the bench. She raised three fingers of her left hand and formed an ‘O’ with her right.

“Thirty?”

She swallowed and nodded. “Thirty.”

Peyton hugged the towel as she opened her bedroom door. She hummed along to the song that played through the speakers of her phone. It was June’s song. One that had been Peyton’s favourite. She remembered June singing it by the lake, strumming her guitar. Peyton had been on her way to town when June had called her over. The moment she’d heard it, Peyton had felt like it had been written about her. But what heartbreaking song wasn’t?

She walked to her bed and stared at the Polaroids that sat on the covers. Then she picked up the picture of them sitting on the pier. Callum looked happy, and that’s what was so deceiving about him. He
looked
happy to be with her, but she wasn’t sure if he really had been. Staring at her former self, Peyton could see the differences from then and now. Seventeen-year-old Peyton had had a twinkle in her eye and a smile that twenty-one-year-old Peyton had forgotten how to make. The teenager had looked carefree and happy and…
in
love. Present Peyton didn’t know how to be any of those. Slowly, one by one, all of those things had disappeared. Death had become her.

What she missed most was the glow on her face. That was something she’d lacked since Callum had left.

After placing the Polaroid back down with the others, Peyton took a deep breath and walked to the wardrobe. When she set her fingers on the knob, she stared at the promise ring that Graham had given her. She knew deep down that it was a promise they’d break, but in that moment, she wanted the possibility of being someone’s future. But Peyton knew the truth; one woman would make Graham fall desperately in love. It was just a matter of time.

Turning around, she leant on the wooden wardrobe and looked at the diamond. It was beautiful. If she weren’t a backup plan, she’d love it more than she did. She lifted her left hand up and ran the thumb of her right hand over it. Then she stopped her movements and held her breath. She always knew the day would come when she’d take it off, but she hadn’t thought it would be for a long time to come. It was constantly in the back of her mind, but today, it felt right to do so.

A knock on the bedroom door didn’t distract her from the way the ring glittered in the light.

“Peyton, it’s been thirty minutes,” Callum said from the other side of the door.

“Callum,” she called out, her eyes still on the diamond.

“Yeah, Peyton?” The hint of uncertainty in his voice made her heart tense. It was Callum’s being back in town that made her unsure of the decisions she had made since she’d last seen him.

“I’m Graham’s backup plan,” she announced.

Silence.

Peyton counted the seconds that ticked by. When Callum said nothing, she turned her attention away from the ring and looked at her bedroom door. A small intake of air had been taken before she walked towards it. Her footsteps echoed and she had no doubt that Callum could hear them, too. Once she got to the door, she turned around and placed her back against it. The faint sounds of his breathing reached her ears.

“Then he’s an idiot,” Callum said.

Forty-three seconds.

The sadness in his voice made her tense, and she stared at the bedroom window she used to sneak out of.

The neediness in her heart nagged her, wanting to know what kind of choice she was to him. Peyton leant her head back and glared at the ceiling before she turned her head to the side.

“If circumstances were different. If I made you happy and if you loved me back, would I have been your first choice?” she asked into the wood of the door.

There was a slight
thump
against the door and a sharp inhale of oxygen. “You would have been my only choice, Peyton.”

Peyton shut her eyes and softly said, “If only.”

“If only,” Callum agreed, and that’s when a tear ran down her face. Because those were the two words she had continuously wondered for the last four years. “I’ll wait by the couch for you.”

The sound of retreating footsteps made her heart clench harder. Tears continued to skim down her face, and she wiped them away as quickly as they fell.

“You’ve only ever been my choice, Callum,” she whispered to herself.

And there it was. The truth she had been denying all these years. Her one and only choice. And by July, she’d say goodbye. There was no future with Callum Reid. His return was purely to dust off their hands and move on with their lives.

Peyton pushed off the door and walked over to her bed before sitting on it. She picked up the Polaroids as water dripped from the ends of her hair and onto the towel. Reaching out, she took the almost four-and-a-half-year-old memories in her hands and sifted through them.

During their last summer together, she hadn’t seen him not snapping pictures of their time together with his Polaroid camera. They would halve the pile of photographs between them, and just moments before she fell asleep, she’d look at them before tucking the photos under her pillow.