Isn't she aware that Peyton and I are no longer on speaking terms?
"Great. I'm partnered with her." I can feel Peyton's glare at the back of my head.
Like it was my choice in the first place.
I whip my head around and return her scathing look. "Trust me, I'd rather be stuck with a lamp post than deal with you."
That draws a few laughs around us, making her face redden in humiliation. "Let's just get this damn thing over with," she grinds out.
I walk over to the nearest exercise mat, not caring if she's following or not. Honestly, I'd be happy to do the sit-ups by myself. I don't need her help.
"Why don't you do the sit-ups first and I'll be the one to brace you? You need it more than me, anyway."
I stiffen. Did she just call me fat?
"Well?" She raises a brow.
Gritting my teeth, I lie down and go into position.
Peyton holds my feet together. "Don't think for one second that Liam will go running back to you. He just wants to use you to win his friends back."
This again? When is she going to understand that I don't give a crap about her and Liam? It's getting old now.
I didn't even ask for drama today. Thanks to Peyton and her apparent insecurities when it comes to Liam, I'm currently getting a large dose of it.
I sit up, bringing my face close to hers. "You know what, Peyton? You hopelessly believing that I still want anything to do with Liam is starting to get pathetic. At this point, are you really convincing me or yourself? What, did he finally realize that you're actually good for nothing and shouldn't be touched with a ten-foot pole?"
Her eyes turn to slits, as if she can't believe that I have the audacity to talk to her that way. "We both know he went for an upgrade when he started sleeping with me."
First, she insinuated that I was fat. Now, she's implying that I'm ugly.
God, she's a piece of work. How could I have not seen the meanness in her all these years? Looking back, I realize this is not the first time she made those kinds of comments. She simply wasn't as blunt as she is now. No, Peyton has mastered the art of masking insults with compliments. I'd just been blinded by her fake friendship to pay close attention to her words.
But never again.
I let out a mocking laugh. "He went for something easy, more like."
The girls on the mat next to ours gasp dramatically that I almost laugh.
And judging from the stormy expression on Peyton's face, I just hit a nerve. "You think you're so perfect? You're such a hypocrite, Sawyer. You act like a virginal goody two-shoes, but you're probably fucking Parker all this time."
Another round of shocked gasps ring out, and this time, I feel my cheeks burn.
She mentioned Parker. Again. What has he anything to do with this? Specifically, with me? Why does she keep dragging his name into every conversation?
Then it hits me. Peyton acts like Parker doesn't mean anything to her. But it's starting to look like she wants him just as much as she wants Liam. How messed up is that?
"Stop projecting your own issues onto me, Peyton. I don't go around deceiving people. And I definitely don't go around sleeping with two guys at the same time. That's your style, remember?"
"You bitch!" She raises a hand to slap me, but Ms. Halsteid's voice stops her.
"What's going on here?" Her eyes are narrowed suspiciously at the two of us.
Schooling my features, I stand up. "Ms. Halsteid, I'm not feeling well. Can I be excused?" I have to get out of here, away from Peyton, before we end up clawing each other's eyes out.
She hesitates for a moment, then sighs and gives a reluctant nod.
"Thanks," I mutter, walking away without looking back.
Quinn's worried face is waiting for me a few meters away. "Is everything okay, S? You seemed to be arguing with Peyton back there. I can't believe Ms. Halsteid paired you two together. Has she been living under a rock?" She pauses and takes a good look at me. "You're leaving, aren't you? Want me to come with you?"
I shake my head. "It's fine and you can't. You have cheer practice, remember?" When she's about to protest, I reassure her. "Seriously, I'm okay. I just have a headache. I think I'll just head home."
Reluctantly, she nods. "Chat me up later, okay?"
I simply smile and squeeze her arm, then make my way to the girls' locker room. I don't bother changing out of my gym clothes—I didn't sweat in them, anyway—and just grab my things before heading out into the parking lot.
I have no idea how long this tension with Peyton will go on, but it's stressing me out and depleting my energy. As much as I don't want to engage, she keeps taunting me, forcing me into a confrontation.
I hate that we ended up this way. It's the last place I expected us to be, and the fact that we're currently stuck in this awful situation is frustrating the hell out of me. I just want to move forward and put the whole thing behind me.
"Someone pissed you off, Pretty Girl?" It's Jamie. He's leaning against his gray metallic Mercedes, with a phone in his hand and a cigarette on the other.
But he's not alone. On his other side is Bennett, mindlessly flipping a coin into the air.
I arch a brow. "Cutting classes again?"
It's a regular thing with these guys, and they never get in trouble for it. They're on top of the school's social ladder for a reason. Besides, even if they don't get stellar grades in high school, they'll still end up taking over their parents' business empires. Their future is already secured.
"Government is fucking boring," Bennett snorts.
