One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

I want her. I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting the girl next door, but after the things I’ve done to her, the extremes I pushed her to, there’s no turning back from that.

She hasn’t forgiven me. How could she? I’ve done nothing but turn her life upside down for years. I’m a fool to think that a month of being different is enough to change me. Although I pray I never get my memories back, I’m just as terrified as she is that if they do come back, I’ll be the same unrepentant asshole that I was before. I don’t know how that would be possible with how much I love her, but it’s one of my biggest concerns.

“Are you going to just sit there all day?”

I don’t bother to turn my head to look at my sister. Peyton hasn’t complained too much that I’ve taken up residence in her room, looking out her window with the hopes of seeing Piper. It’s another way I’ve been torturing myself. I’m strong enough to stay away from her, but not seeing her at all is killing me. It’s another form of punishment and torture I’ve been doling out to myself in tiny doses.

“She’s home, you know.”

I still don’t respond.

“I bet she’d love to see you. She’s still been texting and calling my phone. I wish you’d get your crap together because I miss my friend.”

“And I told you to stop ignoring her.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Peyton’s tone makes me pull my eyes from the coral colored curtains twenty feet away and look at her. “Maybe I should invite her over so we can catch up.”

“You’d really do that to me?”

She frowns. “I miss her. Are you asking me to stop being friends with her because you’re playing the martyr and punishing both of you?”

“No.” Even as I say the word, I know it’s mostly a lie.

I don’t want Piper here because it would be impossible to stay away from her. My resolve only goes so far, and keeping distance between the two of us is the only way I can keep my hands off her.

“You love her.” Her tone softens as sadness fills her eyes. “I don’t understand any of this at all.”

“It’s not meant for you to understand,” I croak, my eyes drifting back to Piper’s house.

“You’re not going to catch a glimpse of her over there.”

I begin to ignore her. I’ve found that if I don’t engage with her, she’ll walk away and leave me to my own racing thoughts and wishes for things to be different.

“You won’t see her,” she says again, “because she’s waiting for you in your room.”

My heart gallops, pounding against my rib cage as adrenaline fills my blood. My eyes are focused on her house, but I don’t see a single thing. My blood heats, demanding my legs to move, to go seek her out, but I’m frozen, stuck in this position while my head wars over what to do next.

“Did you hear me?” Peyton snaps. “Go talk to her. If you can’t be with her for whatever stupid reasons you’ve conjured in your head, then she deserves for you to say those things to her face. Ghosting her is being a jerk, and you’ve said over and over that you’re no longer a jerk.”

“What do I say?”

Peyton huffs, her arms taking up residence across her chest. She’s annoyed with me. That much is clear, but I need help. I need guidance. I need someone who can support my decision to let Piper go. I know I’m not going to get those things from my sister.

“You tell her the truth. All of it. Not just the stuff to push her away. You lay it all out, and then you listen to her, and you take her truths and then decide if they change what you said. It can’t be one-sided.”

“Talk to her.” I say the words out loud, testing them for merit.

“See? Simple?”

There’s nothing simple about walking into my room and seeing Piper. But then again, there’s nothing simple about the way I feel for her. Not seeing her for the last couple of days has left a hole inside of me, an aching void of despair that longs for her constantly.

“Go.” Peyton literally shoos her arms to get me to leave her room.

My bedroom door is closed, and thoughts of how I’ll find her fill my mind. Unable to just stride in there, I lean my head against the cold hardwood and pray for strength.

Piper is standing at my window when I finally manage the courage to turn the knob and open the door. She doesn’t look in my direction immediately, but her shoulders tense.

“I always know when you enter a room,” she says without looking back at me. “It’s like the air around you is charged. My heart starts to beat faster, and my fingers tingle.”