One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

“Dalton.” There’s a warning in her tone, and I plan to put some distance between the two of us, but instead of quickly releasing her, I trail my fingers down her hips and the outside of her thighs.

Her gasp is audible, but it doesn’t stop her from getting away from me.

We play in the pool for another hour, but she manages not to get caught by me again.

I was idiotic, and I know touching her without permission isn’t the way to build her trust. I want to apologize to her when we get out, but she wraps a towel around herself and disappears inside before I get the chance.Chapter 18PiperHis hands on me—eye-opening is the only way I can describe it.

For a split second, I forgot who he was.

I forgot the last twelve years.

I forgot the way his lip would twitch with evil intent when he was preparing to do something mean to me.

I forgot all of the things that made me despise him.

And that’s dangerous.

It’s dangerous to my heart, my health, and most importantly, my sanity.

“This should help,” Peyton says as she hands me a cold bottle of water and two Tylenol. “I can’t believe you didn’t put sunblock on.”

I pop the pills into my mouth and follow them with a long drink of the cold water.

“I didn’t plan on getting out from under the awning,” I tell her. “I should’ve just stayed out of the pool.”

I should’ve never agreed to go out there in the first place, but I keep that piece to myself.

“We had fun,” Peyton says with a lopsided smile. “And I was thinking the fun shouldn’t end.”

I quirk an eyebrow up at her. If she suggests anything that remotely has to do with spending more time with her older brother, I’m out of here.

Without a word, she disappears into her closet before returning with a huge cosmetic bag.

“Makeup?”

“More than makeup.” She plops down beside me on the floor. “Facials, nails, the whole nine.”

I consider the offer for a while. I haven’t done that sort of thing since eighth grade when Frankie and I decided that if we had healthier skin, the kids at school would be our friends. I was still hopeful in those days, but Dalton made sure to cut me off at the knees when we arrived at school with glowing skin and our faces made up. Looking back, we probably had on more makeup than necessary, but what do thirteen-year-olds know about applying contours and blemish cream?

A lot, apparently, because Peyton is an expert with a makeup brush and eyeliner. Glancing at myself in the small mirror she’s holding up, I turn my face back and forth. I look better than I did the night before the party, before Dalton turned the water hose on me in his driveway. It was my last-ditch effort to make people see me as more than a running joke, but that day in eighth grade was already in the back of my mind. It didn’t work that time, so why would it work now?

Needless to say, it didn’t. Even if Dalton hadn’t ruined my look, the same people who ruined my life that night would’ve done the same regardless of how my makeup and hair looked. They don’t have it in them to change.

“You look fabulous.” She beams at me. “I wonder what the kids at school would say right now.”

I sigh in frustration, but it isn’t aimed at her, really. She has the same mindset I did when I was her age. My pessimism built for years, but it was firmly in place by the time I started high school. I don’t want her heading down the same path, and even though I can’t control what other people do, I can apply a little reality to Peyton.

“People at Westover Prep don’t care if you change from an ugly duckling overnight.”

“You were never an ugly duckling,” Peyton counters with a frown.

“What I’m saying is it doesn’t matter what you look like on the outside.”

“Beauty is only skin deep? Really, Piper?”

“The people at school are mean because of what’s inside of them. It has nothing to do with me.”

“That’s very—enlightened.”

“It’s the only way I’ve survived all this time, and I know when I leave Westover, things will be better.”

“Because you can be anyone you want?” Her brows furrow.

“No, you’re not getting it. There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t have to change when I leave for college. I’ll still be the same person I am now, and there are people out there who will appreciate that about me.” I give her a weak smile, hating that my new beginning is still a year away. I long for it more than anything. “There are people who will value my opinion, who are mature enough not to belittle others just to get a thrill when they’re bored.”