“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “It’s totally their loss.”
“I know that.” She was quiet as we walked down Beach Street, dodging tourists and the business owners who were shutting down for the night. “But let’s talk about something happier, okay?”
“Sure.” I searched my mind. “Um, did you have a good time today with the girls?”
“Oh, I did.” Peyton’s smile was genuine again, stretching over her face. “I’d forgotten what it was like to be with people who have known me my whole life. We caught up and laughed about memories—Emmy had pictures of us from one of Sheri’s birthday parties, where we stuck this half of a globe under our nightshirts and pretended to be pregnant. At the time, we were mortified that Sheri had taken pictures, but now, it was just hysterical to see them.”
I chuckled, nodding. “I bet. I didn’t know Sheri or Delilah very well back in school, but I always figured if they were friends of yours, they must have been pretty cool. And Delilah—” I stopped, not wanting to return to a painful subject.
“Delilah what?” Peyton prompted me, curiously.
“Uh, on graduation day.” I swallowed hard. “I was looking for you. And I was worried and maybe a little desperate. I guess I knew deep down that if you weren’t there, you’d chosen Ryan instead of me.”
Peyton halted in the middle of the sidewalk, closing her eyes. “Nash—that’s not how it was?—”
“I know that now,” I interrupted. “I’m just describing my state of mind at the time. I was upset enough that I stopped Delilah in the hallway before we went into the gym for the graduation ceremony, and I asked her if she knew where you were.”
“Oh.” Peyton’s lips formed a perfect circle. “She mentioned today that you—that she had spoken with you on graduation day, but she couldn’t remember exactly what she’d told you. What did she say?”
“She said—” I remembered it so clearly that my heart wanted to shatter all over again. “She said she had stopped at your house that morning because you all were supposed to get ready for graduation together, and that your mother had told her you weren’t there. She suggested that Delilah should check Ryan’s house. When she did, one of his neighbors said he’d seen the whole family leaving early that morning with a packed car and a girl he’d seen before with Ryan. Delilah figured it was you.”
“Yeah.” Peyton sighed. “I let everyone down, I guess.”
I ignored that. “Delilah was really nice to me that morning. She didn’t ask why I wanted to know or anything. She was just . . . kind.”
“I’m glad.” Peyton started walking again, but this time, she reached for my hand. “C’mon, Sampson. Enough of this stroll down rotten memory lane. We have a party waiting for us.”
I hadn’t spenta lot of time at the Rip Tide growing up, but I’d stopped for a burger now and again—especially after I’d figured out that Peyton hung out there often with her cousin Jude. Still, I hardly recognized the place now; it had been updated and added on to over the past years.
And tonight, it was crammed full of the class of 1989. When Peyton and I pushed our way through the crowd, we were greeted like long lost friends by classmates, many of whom had been pre-drinking, I decided, judging by their flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
“We need to keep our eyes open for Jared,” Peyton said, her mouth close to my ear. “It’s going to be hard to spot him in this crush of people.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Unless we split up and shove our way through the crowd?—”
“I have a better idea.” Peyton smiled up at me. “I bet we’d have a good view from the karaoke stage.”
“Oh, no,” I objected. “I’d rather trust the universe to bring him to me than sing karaoke.”
“Not you, silly.” She swatted my arm. “I’ll do it.” And with that, before I could stop her, she eased over to the bar and leaned closer to the bartender to place an order. A few minutes later, I watched in amusement as she tossed back two shots of some kind of yellow liquor.
Once she’d finished her shots, Peyton hustled to the DJ’s table and scribbled something onto a piece of paper. The guy who was managing the karaoke glanced down and grinned before he yelled something that had Peyton pumping her fist.
I figured out pretty quickly that somehow, Peyton had found a way to cut to the front of the karaoke line. The DJ announced her name to a huge crash of applause, and then she was climbing the steps to the stage, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright.
“This one goes out to Nash, for reasons only he will understand.”
The music began, and right away, I recognized the Adam Ant tune about someone who didn’t drink or smoke. Peyton sang it loudly and only slightly off-tune, but what she lacked in her singing abilities she more than made up for with her dancing, swinging her hips to the beat and wriggling her body.
Her eyes met mine, and everything in the world clicked into a place of absolute rightness. Peyton Rivers had dragged me to a party—well, to karaoke, and this was definitely the kind of gathering I hadn’t experienced in high school—and now she was singing to me in front of God and our classmates.
She ended the song with a dramatic flourish and a squeal of laughter, rewarded by shouts and claps from the crowd. Jumping from the stage, she returned to me, catching my hand and pressing her body close to mine.
“I didn’t see him,” Peyton murmured, and for a confusing second, I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Oh—Jared. You didn’t see him at all?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Sorry.”
