Chapter 5

Chapter Five

“ I don’t know when bad-girl Peyton showed up, but I like her.” Tasha pats my ass cheek, which this bikini does not cover enough of, as she passes me in our hotel room. I wish I brought a one-piece like Lexi’s. Well, not exactly like Lexi’s. The open cut down to her navel would definitely be a problem for my girls.

“I am not a bad girl. And please don’t make this into, I don’t know, a thing. ” I pull the thin strip of white cloth out of my ass as if somehow that’s going to make these bottoms seem modest. I snag my cotton shorts from the bed and slip them on.

“If this isn’t a thing, then why are you covering up, hmm ?” Lexi teases as she clips her hair up on top of her head.

“I just don’t want Wyatt getting any ideas.” My lie doesn’t even fool me, but my friends do a decent job of holding in their snickers.

“Well then, here, take this with you,” Tasha says, snatching the heavy terrycloth robe from the hook by the bathroom and tossing it at me. It’s heavy and embroidered with the hotel logo. I hold it out with stretched arms and twist my lips.

“I don’t want him making fun of me, either, so thanks, but no thanks.” I toss the thick robe on my bed.

“Mr. No Big Thing has been sitting down there in the hot tub for the last thirty minutes. If we drag this out any longer, maybe he’ll just go home,” Tasha says as she grabs the door handle and tugs our room door open. She shoots me a daring gaze, one eye squinting a little more than the other. It’s how she calls me on my bullshit. When we were kids, she got me to leap off the roof into the pool with that look. I bruised my heel on the pool floor. Tasha’s peer pressure track record isn’t great.

“Fine, I guess I’m ready to go,” I huff, grabbing my phone and my room keycard so I have a way out if I need one.

Usually, the resort pools are pulsing with music on summer weekends, but college classes started a week ago, which means most of the summer staff and clientele are gone. Left in the wake are high schoolers like us and older couples on getaways. As we approach the hot tub nestled on the far side of the pool deck, Wyatt comes into view, along with an older couple who seem to be really settled in.

“Ugh, I hate sharing,” Lexi protests.

Tasha nudges her with her hip as we approach the empty lounge chairs near the hot tub. Lexi has a habit of saying rude things out loud and within earshot. Thankfully, the couple in the hot tub seems to be too rapt by their conversation with Wyatt to have heard my friend. Wyatt, however, isn’t. His attention shifts mid-sentence, and the smile on his face that likely matched whatever topic he was discussing with his new friends morphs into a flirtatious smirk that tugs up the right side of his upper lip.

“Ladies,” he says, lifting his arms out of the water and stretching them out along the deck. His biceps and shoulders dent in all the right places, his body bronzed, probably from playing shirtless at football camp all summer.

“Who are your new friends?” Tasha says, dropping her phone and towel on a chair, then moving toward the hot tub steps. As revealing as my suit is, Tasha’s is ten times so. It’s basically a bunch of purple bikini strings with three tiny triangles in— barely —strategic places . The older man sitting on the other side of Wyatt definitely notices. He doesn’t even mask the gawking as he licks his lips while watching my friend sink into the warm water. But Wyatt’s eyes remain on mine. He doesn’t even flinch.

“This is Sue and Terry. Am I right? Terry?” Wyatt’s question pulls the man’s eyes off my friend, yet Wyatt is still looking at me.

“Yeah, you got it, bub,” Terry says.

I smirk at Wyatt’s new nickname and he rolls his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Sue and Terry. I’m Tasha, and these are my friends Lexi and?—”

“Peyton,” Wyatt interjects, taking over saying my name. My skin heats at the way his deep tone seems to stretch out the first syllable. I sit on the edge of one of the lounge chairs and slip off my flip-flops, my towel resting on my lap to hide the goose bumps rushing up my thighs.

“You girls having a little getaway?” Sue asks, moving over to make room for Lexi to sit next to her. Everyone’s eyes shift to me, as I’m now the only one not in the hot tub, and now I feel very aware of how revealing my swimsuit is.

“Yes,” I answer. “We all start school Monday, so this is sort of our last hurrah.” I raise my fist to shoulder height for emphasis.

“Gosh, it’s good to be young,” Sue muses, her gray hair pulled up into a bun on top of her head, her sunglasses nestled against the hair. The pink on her cheeks and pale skin around her eyes leads me to believe she and Terry have been out here all day.

“Oh, I don’t know. Being a young man sure comes with its challenges,” Terry pipes in. He shifts in the water, moving to the railing along the steps, which he grasps as he climbs out of the water. His shorts drape below his knees, and his hairy belly hangs over the waistband. His chest is as pink as Sue’s cheeks, minus a few spots where it appears he smeared some sunscreen.

“Yeah, I hear young white men have it really rough,” I let slip out. My eyes widen, and my gaze shifts back to Wyatt in time to see his lips stretch tight to hold in laughter. As much as Lexi puts her foot in her mouth, I’m just as bad. Though, I usually do it intentionally.

“Sure, sure,” Terry says, waving his hand at me before grabbing a towel from the nearby table. He pats his face with the towel, then unfurls it to wrap around his waist. “I get that, believe me. But that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean,” Tasha says, pulling her legs up to rest her arms atop her knees in the water. This is how my friend group works. Lexi causes accidents. I light matches. And Tasha? She comes along with gasoline.

Terry chuckles as he snags a second towel from the table and moves toward Sue.

“I’m sure Bub here could tell you. What was it you were saying about understanding women?” His amused expression lands on Wyatt as he helps Sue step out of the water, and my attention zips to Wyatt.

“Ha, yeah,” Wyatt says through a nervous chuckle. He runs his palm over his face then through his hair, his gaze dancing around all of us before meeting Terry’s. “I think I said I didn’t. ”

“Yeah, and you never will, bub. You never will,” Terry laughs out. Sue nudges him, but he quickly swoops an arm around her and kisses the top of their head. “You kids have fun. And try not to do anything we wouldn’t do.”

“Have a good night, T,” Wyatt says, lifting a palm from the deck. We all look on while the couple flirts their way toward the exit.

I take advantage of the distraction, slipping out of my shorts and moving toward the hot tub’s edge. I’m not fast enough to avoid Wyatt’s gaze as I drop into the water a step at a time. I feel naked under his stare, his attention tracing the curve of my hip, my stomach, my breasts, and finally, my face.

“So, can I call you Bub?” I ask, snapping him out of his overt dog-in-heat mode. His lip ticks up.

“Depends,” he says, a slight quirk in his right brow. For some reason, my upper lip tingles in response.

“They were cute. I hope I have a relationship like that when I’m their age,” Lexi says before I can ask Wyatt what depends means.

“Same,” Tasha echoes.

“How about you?” Wyatt asks, dropping his arms back in the water and shifting so his body is square with mine on opposite sides of the tub.

I blink slowly and chew at the inside of my cheek. My parents are literally that couple—or they will be.

I shrug.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m meant to be alone.” The notion actually appeals to me on many levels. While my parents have had the fairytale, they’ve also had the heartbreak. And I’m not sure I want to lose myself in someone the way my mom did when she and my dad first got together. Sure, they found balance as they grew. And my dad would tell you that my mom is really the backbone of their marriage. But as much as she has accomplished, the world still sees her as Reed Johnson’s wife.

“That’s sad as fuck,” Tasha says, splashing water at me.

I sneer and hold up my middle finger.

“No, it’s not. It’s resilient,” Wyatt says.

His quick response, seemingly in my defense, takes me off guard, and my gaze snaps to him.

“Boo to that. It’s lonely,” Tasha responds.

I shake my head slowly, my eyes on Wyatt’s. My lungs open up, and I draw in a deep breath. It feels like he’s trying to say so much more through our locked gazes. Or maybe I’m reading into it, looking for signs—signs I don’t even want.

“No, it’s not lonely. At least, it isn’t always.” He blinks slowly and moves his focus to my friend as he speaks. A pang tugs at my chest in his attention’s absence.

Tasha runs her hand along the bubbling foam in front of her as her lips mash. She’s avoiding Wyatt’s stare. Tasha doesn’t do deep conversations, and I get the sense that there’s experience behind what Wyatt is trying to say. Tasha’s mom is single. But she dates— a lot. And Tasha’s dad is not in the picture. Nor has he ever been.

“Drinks?” Her head bops up with the instant change in subject.

“I’d take a water,” I answer, knowing that’s not the kind of drink she means.

“ Pffft! Loser,” she teases, but winks as she slips out of the water and turns her attention to Wyatt and Lexi.

“Whatever you get,” Lexi answers. I’m sure somehow Tasha will come back with beer. She looks a lot like her mom. So much so that she pocketed her mom’s driver’s license last year and has been using it for a whole host of things my mom would flip her lid over. Drinks at the pool bar fall on the tame side.

“Wyatt?” she asks, now standing behind me.

“I have to drive. So, water. Unless . . .” He turns his head slightly, giving me side eyes.

My gaze narrows as I mentally work through his insinuation.

“No! You are not sleeping here. He’ll have a water, too.” My tone amuses everyone, but thankfully, after Tasha laughs at my expense, she doesn’t push the idea.

It takes about five seconds for the awkward quiet to set in once my bold friend is gone. I’m not sure whether Lexi can feel the extra tension between Wyatt and me or not, but after nearly a minute of silence, she decides to duck out of the hot tub to go find our friend and help.

It’s only the two of us in a dozen-person hot tub, yet the quarters feel strangely tight all of a sudden.

“You think they planned that?” Wyatt breaks the quiet.

I shift as I laugh, turning to the side so I can stretch my legs along the bench seat. I shake my head and roll my neck until my eyes rest on his tepid smirk.

“I think planning things would be giving my friends a whole lot of credit,” I joke. Truthfully? Tasha may have it in her to scheme and plan, but Lexi is too easily distracted to play matchmaker.

The water stills as the pump cuts off the jets. Wyatt steps into the center of the pool, ripples cascading from his body toward me. He sits where my feet end, and if I were to point my toes, they’d touch his thigh.

“So, is Bryce, like, your boyfriend or whatever?” The way he makes eye contact with me briefly sends a rush of serotonin down my spine.

“He was. And then he wasn’t. And then he was.” I roll my neck along with my eyes, and Wyatt breathes out a soft laugh. I think he gets my point.

“And you? Do you have girls stashed all over this Valley that you shack up with at resorts?” I’m fishing, and I’m pretty sure he sees right through it. I don’t care. I want to know if this . . . whatever this is we seem to be playing at . . . is a two-person game or a team sport. Wyatt is hot. There’s no way he hasn’t been with other girls.

His eyes haze a little as he stares into mine, his mouth hinting at a knowing smile. Finally, his head shakes slowly.

“I’m pretty tied up with starting a new school and leading a new team to state. Priorities and shit,” he says.

“Mmmm, yeah. Priorities.” Fucking football—it’s always the priority.

“That’s good about Bryce, though,” he adds.

My face puzzles.

“That you aren’t really dating anymore. He was a real player during camp,” Wyatt says, his gaze once again darting to me in short stints, like he’s testing my reaction. I’m not surprised by the revelation.

“Sounds about right.” I shrug.

“You seem shocked.”

My shoulders shake with a tiny laugh.

“Gobsmacked.”

“Ha!” Wyatt busts out, his hand forming a quick fist over his mouth as he holds the rest of his laughter at bay.

“He’s a good quarterback,” I say for some reason, once again shrugging. It’s like I’m compelled to make excuses for having been in a relationship with Bryce.

“I’m better,” Wyatt says quickly.

My lips instinctively purse as I rest my arm on the deck and tilt my head.

“What? I am. You’ll see. And your dad . . . I bet he’s seen the tape.” His gaze shifts to the surface of the water over my body, and I cross my legs. Thanks to the soft glow of the spa light and the lack of foam, I’m not terribly hidden.

“Volumes of film. I think he has an entire hard drive about you,” I tease, though sadly, it may not be much of an exaggeration. Wyatt chuckles, and it doesn’t come off as arrogant. There’s a modesty to his expression.

“You know . . .” He stops his words and bites the tip of his tongue, his gaze drifting to me as his cheeks dimple with a guilty smirk. He looks away again, and I fear he’s going to leave me with more unfinished thoughts. I still don’t know what that whole depends thing meant about calling him Bub.

“Spill it,” I say, stretching my right foot and pressing my toe against his thigh. His focus drops below the water as his hand wraps around my foot. He presses his thumb into my arch, then shifts to face me and takes my foot in both of his hands so he can fully massage it. It’s glorious, and I wish I could enjoy it, but I’m too busy staving off the fantasy of his hands roaming up my leg.

“That thing you said about being alone,” he begins.

I train my attention on his words even though the devil on my shoulder is whispering naughty thoughts in my ear, thanks to the way his palm presses against my skin. I lift my chin to meet his stare.

“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out.

“My dad died at the start of the year, right after the holidays.” His confession is so matter-of-fact it’s obvious he’s made it plenty of times—probably too many times. But despite his emotions remaining in check, his words send a sharp prick to the corners of my eyes. Tears form fast, and I feel instant guilt that he has to see them.

“Sorry,” I say, swiping them away.

His mouth forms a soft, lopsided grin, and his hands are still tender on my foot under the water.

“Thanks, but I’m all right. And my mom is a strong woman.”

“Resilient,” I say, my new understanding sinking in.

“Beyond.”

We share a long look, and for once, the quiet between us doesn’t feel like torture. The pull is there, though. Wyatt Stone has me so curious. More curious. And very confused.

“Two waters for the lame-asses!” Tasha drops the plastic bottles into the hot tub between us, and I jerk my foot out of Wyatt’s hands. I don’t think she noticed, and the hot tub makes for a nice excuse for my entire body being beet-red.

“I think I’ll take mine to go. I should head out,” Wyatt says, snagging both bottles and setting mine on the deck. He skips the steps, instead lifting himself to the edge. His workout shorts cling to his thighs, and he tries to wring the water out as best he can. His muscular build—and other things—are still very much on display.

It’s a good thing I didn’t let him talk me into him spending the night. I’m pretty sure we’d be making out tonight. And I meant what I said about being all right with being alone. At least right now. And certainly not with another fucking quarterback.

“Nice suit,” I say, unable to help myself as he runs a towel over his shoulders.

He smirks as he grabs his T-shirt from the nearby table, then slips it over his head.

“Not half as nice as yours,” he responds with a wink. He bites his bottom lip, too, and goddamn if my chest isn’t completely overwhelmed with thunder.

“Ladies,” he continues, holding up his water in thanks to Tasha before strolling away.

Thankfully, Lexi keeps her mouth shut as he leaves. But the moment the sliding glass doors to the hotel lobby shut, both of my besties’ glare at me with open mouths.

“We said we wouldn’t make this a thing,” I warn them, but even I know that this— tonight —was very much a thing.

“Fine, sure. Whatever,” Tasha says, sinking into the water with her bottle of Canyon Mountain Brew. She rolls her head to her left as she takes a long sip, and her scrutinizing gaze lands on me. “But don’t be mad when I transfer to Vista and make him my boyfriend.”

I glower at my friend as I splash water at her, which she quickly reciprocates. Our stereotypical squeals of teenage girl laughter echo in the empty space. I plaster my smile wide and will away the nagging jealousy raging in my gut at the thought of Wyatt Stone being with anyone but me.