The Natural History of Us (37 page)

Like an old movie, I watch that reel rewind in my mind. I freeze frame it on Justin's face, and note the pink lipstick imprint on his cheek—but his lips… his lips are stain free.

How did I miss that?

I blink my eyes to clear the memory, and a thousand questions take its place.

“Then why? Why go through all that trouble? Why not just tell me he didn't want to be with me anymore?” I widen my eyes, totally lost. “And then… what, did he start to change his mind? Why?”

“All excellent questions,” Lauren says, dropping the smile. “Things you should ask him.” Her face turns serious as she tosses her pillow back at the head of the bed and pushes to her feet. “I figured you wouldn't even get to that point, though, if I didn't first tell you the truth.”

She grabs the handle of the car seat and sashays toward the door—really, there's no other way to describe her walk—and I find my voice just as her hand closes around the knob. “Lauren?”

When she turns to look at me, I shrug. “Why tell me anything? You and I aren't friends.”

“No,” she answers. “But Justin and I
are
. He's a good guy, one of the best, and he deserves to be happy. For some crazy reason, he gets that with you.”

Leaning her back against the wood, she tilts her head to the side and says, “Look, I'm not claiming we never hooked up. We did, often, but not until last year. It never really meant anything, other than blowing off steam. But he never… not once… looked at me the way he looks at you.” She taps her palm against the door. “The way he's
always
looked at you.”

I can't help but laugh softly at the slightly mystified look on her face. For all of Lauren's shortcomings, and Lord knows the girl has many, she's honest to a fault. I can almost respect that.

Glancing toward the window, I lift my chin and say, “And just now, out there?”

“Simply a hug between friends,” she says, somewhat wistfully. “I got a call from home that made me sad, and Justin found me. He knows a bit about it, so he offered his shoulder.
That's all.” Holding up three fingers, she vows, “Girl Scout's honor.”

At her playful smile, I let out a breath, feeling the fight leave with it.

The misunderstanding today is on me. I saw Lauren and Justin together, read into it what our pasts dictated, and jumped to conclusions. I can admit when I'm wrong, and I truly believe that's what happened—this time.

As for freshman year, I'm convinced Justin didn't cheat. But Lauren's wrong when she says nothing happened. He lied to me. He purposefully set out to hurt me, and whether he got cold feet at the end or not, that's exactly what he did. Because of his choices, and because of that pain, I turned too early to the one place I felt I belonged and lost yet another thing I loved. Racing.

He owes me answers
.

Nodding to myself, I stand from the bed. “I need to find Justin.”

Lauren opens the door for me and steps back, motioning for me to pass. As I cover the distance between us, I know we'll never be friends. We're two
very
different people, and beyond the whole Justin drama, I don't like the way she treats people. Plain and simple. But today, she helped me. She didn't have to, but she did.

Stopping in front of her, I hold out my hand like a dork. “Thanks. I appreciate… this.”

Lauren looks down with a smirk and awkwardly gives my hand a shake. “Make him happy, yeah?”

I don't say yes. I don't know what the future holds for us, and after that confession, Lauren deserves honesty. What I do say is, “I hope you find
your
happiness, Lauren.”

She smiles softly and looks away, and I set off to find Justin.

Peyton
flies out the door like Cerberus the three-headed dog is chasing her. She swings her gaze from side to side, hopefully looking for me, and I wipe my hands on my board shorts.

“Nothing happened,” I call out, and she skids to a halt. I wait until she finds me hiding in the gazebo, and once she does, I say it again. “Nothing happened with Lauren. Either time.”

She nods and says, “I know.”

Her voice rings with the quiet calm that comes from knowing the truth—but it's also laced with hurt, and that keeps me from feeling any better. I'd hoped that hearing what really happened back then would make a difference; that it'd be enough for us to build on. But clearly, she still needs answers, reasons for the
why
, and she deserves them, too.

Peyton steps into the gazebo and gives it a cursory glance before pinning me in place with her eyes. “Lauren told me about the setup freshman year.” I swallow as she takes a seat across from me on the circular bench and fists her hands around the seat. “Why would you do that?” She lifts a shoulder in confusion. “I just… I can't wrap my brain around it, Justin. Did I do something wrong? Did I push you for too much? What? Help me understand why you would do that to me.”

“Because I was an asshole,” I say, leaning my head back against a plank. Her mouth pinches at the past tense description and I huff a humorless laugh. “Okay, I'm still an asshole.”

Damn, this went a whole lot easier in my imagination. I've had three years to think this through, to choose the perfect words to explain my stupidity. But right now, seeing her stare at me with eyes filled with hurt, I have nothing. Just my heart with her name on it, and too many years of regret.

I scrub a hand across my face. “I panicked. It's no excuse, I know, but it's the truth. I warned you I sucked at relationships. I made a mistake, Peyton, and the second I saw your face that day, I knew it. But by then, it was already too late.”

“Why not just talk to me?” she asks, leaning forward on the bench. “Before
or
after. You could've told me you were panicking. Hell, I was, too! We would've figured it out together. Even if we decided to stop seeing each other, it would have been better than… than what you did. How that felt? God, Justin, I hope you never have to feel that. It destroyed me, and I can't help thinking that if you had just come to me—”

“I was in love with you.”

I take a breath and give her an apologetic shrug. “I was in love with you, and too chicken-shit to say it, but I was. And I knew you loved me. If I'd told you that I thought we needed a break, that I'd almost ruined both our lives and that I thought moving on was what was best for you, you would've tried to talk me out of it.”

“Damn straight,” she admits, nodding her head.

“And I would've let you.”

Across the street, my uppity neighbors walk outside. Every time I see them, they're fighting, and judging by their raised voices and stiff movements, today's no different. It's no wonder they get along so well with my parents. I've had nothing but sucky examples of relationships my whole life. Even my grandparents, who loved me as best they could, slept in separate rooms. It's insane that I ever thought I could make it work with Peyton back then.

But now… now I'm smarter. I've felt love from Carlos's family. They treat me like their own. Brandon's mom and even Aly's parents welcome me and show me what true love is like. I also have Coach. He's taught me what a man looks like, how he acts and holds himself. I only wish I could've known these things earlier. It would've saved us both so much heartache.

Once my miserable neighbors are tucked inside their Benz, I say, “Sunshine, you had me wrapped around your little finger. If we were going to break things off, and I really thought we should, I needed it to be
your
decision. I had to make it good enough that you wouldn't ever want me back… because I was weak... I still am, when it comes to you. I knew it was only a matter of time until I realized how much I needed you and begged for forgiveness.”

Peyton doesn't give me the smile I hoped for. She just keeps watching me, staring into me with those big, blue eyes, and I lean forward on my elbows, needing her to understand.

“I had to keep you safe,” I say. “I was terrified I'd mess things up. With you, with your dad. I know I hurt you, and that my methods were stupid and unforgiveable, but I did what I believed was best. Peyton, you've always deserved better than me...” I clasp my hands and look at my feet. “A guy who couldn't see past his own shit to hold you when you were scared out of your mind.”

Fuck. I really was a dipshit. There are so many things I'd go back and redo if I could, but that day… that day trumps them all. As I sit here, stewing in the mess I made of things, Peyton's orange toenails appear next to my bare feet.

“You were scared, too,” she says, sinking on the bench beside me. “We were
fifteen
, Justin. You're excused from not handling it perfectly. Or, well, handling it at all.”

She bumps my shoulder softly and I tilt my head to face her, smiling ruefully at the slight dig. Her eyes are sad as she tightens her mouth and studies me.

“You used to say that a lot, you know. That I ‘deserve better.'” Tentatively, she reaches out, brushing hair off my forehead, and a pulse of energy zings across my scalp. “Now that so much time has passed, do you still think that?”

“No.” I release a sigh. “I know you
deserve
better. I'm just too selfish to care.”

We sit quietly after that, Peyton absorbing my words, me hoping they make a difference. A small smile begins to bloom across her mouth, and though I'm terrified to read into it too much, I slowly stretch my hand out, linking our pinkies.

“Where do we go from here?”

Peyton scoots closer, our hips now touching as she stares at our entwined fingers. “Next week is graduation,” she says softly. “If you go pro, you'll leave for who-knows-where, and your entire life will be baseball.” She raises her eyes to mine. “It's the way it is and I'd never hold you back from that. But that's not how you build a relationship. Long distances rarely work and I've already lived my life on hold… I won't do it again.”

The statistic we learned in the “Mate Selection” section of our project springs to mind, like an annoying Debbie Downer: less than twenty-five percent of couples make it if they don't live in the same area.

I can't handle losing Peyton again. I barely survived the first time. When we get back together—
when
not if—we're sticking for the long haul. Marriage, babies that don't require a battery pack, the whole shebang. I never wanted it before but I do now—but only with Peyton.

Yeah, we're young, but we'll take our time. Graduate college and do it right.

But this girl is it for me.

An electronic cry snaps my head toward the front door where Gabi stands holding Justin Jr.

“Sorry to interrupt, but y'all need to do something.” She cranes her neck away from the robot baby like the crying disease is contagious. “This thing is possessed. I've tried everything I can think of, but it doesn't want a bottle or a diaper, and it doesn't need to be burped. I surrender. There's a reason I avoided FACS. Babies and I, we don't mix.”

Peyton laughs under her breath and curls her pinkie around mine one last time before severing contact. “Sounds like it needs to be rocked. I've got this one.” She pushes to her feet, and a mild panic stirs within my gut.

We haven't settled anything. I don't know where we stand, if we're back together, if we have hope of doing so in the future, or even if she wants me. If she forgives me for my hurtful, boneheaded mistakes of the past.

As she pads past me, I grasp her wrist and ask, “Are we okay?”

It just scratches the surface of my questions, but for now it'll do. Peyton takes a breath before answering, only ratcheting up my anxiety.

“Yeah,” she finally says, her guarded eyes searching mine. “We're good.”

I nod, slowly, glad to hear the words, and release my grip. She walks out of the gazebo, and I continue to sit here, watching a lone bird in the driveway eating some seed Aly threw out earlier, and working through a thousand questions that have no clear answers.