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I want to lift my head and see if Peyton is still here. If she is the one nursing and consoling me. Providing me with this unfamiliar comfort. Comfort I don’t want to end.
“Micah?” Her voice is soft next to my ear. “Slowly sit up straight. You need some water.”
I do as she says and she hands me a glass of cold water. One sip at a time, I drink the cool liquid. She watches me like a mother would a sick child. I love and hate that I worried her, but am glad I didn’t collapse.
“What did you eat for dinner? Maybe you got food poisoning.”
Here comes my inner asshole. Yes, I lied to her earlier. Said maybe it was something from dinner. Which isn’t possible. Because I haven’t eaten. Not since yesterday.
“Uh, I may have fibbed about dinner earlier.” Her brows creep down. “More like I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“Oh, Jesus.” She shakes her head, rises from her haunches and offers her hand. “Come on.”
“What? Where are you—”
“You need to eat something. Before you actually do pass out.”
I wince but recover. “I have snacks in the office. Maybe we can grab something to eat after work. Together.” The word vomit leaves my mouth before I stop it. No way to retract or turn back now.
Hour-long seconds drag out. Peyton stares at me with a novel of confusion written on her face. Confusion morphs into something akin to struggle. I hate that she has to put so much effort into the decision. And I have half a mind to rescind.
“Sure. How about Teddy’s?” she proposes.
Teddy’s is a modernized version of homestyle. Open twenty-four hours, they let you order anything from the menu any time of day. Best part, it is less than a mile from Roar.
“Sounds perfect.”
She proffers her hand to help me stand and I take it without hesitation. Once upright, I hold steady a moment and get my bearings. Less dizzy, I put one foot in front of the other and inch my way down the hall toward the office.
“Eat something,” she hollers down the hall as I open the door.
“On it, boss.”
This grants me a smile just before she walks off. I swear I have seen more smiles from Peyton tonight than I have in the last year. Combined with the lack of food in my system, the constant smiles fuck with my head. And body.
On the tattered couch in the office, I lie back and eat one of the emergency packages of peanut butter crackers. When I reach the bottom of the package, the room looks less like a house of distorted mirrors and my hands tremble less. My stomach grumbles, suggesting the crackers better be the appetizer.
I close my eyes and throw an arm over them. The music from the club vibrates the walls and lulls me to sleep. A hand shakes my shoulder and whispers my name. I ignore the dream until it happens again, a little louder.
“Huh?” I lift my arm a bit and spot Peyton’s chin and lips.
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.” Slowly, I sit up and she inches back. “If you’re too tired, we can skip food.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Just give me a minute.” Now is when I notice the silence. The lack of music or blended chatter. “What time is it?”
“Almost three.”
Well, damn. Definitely needed the sleep, but I didn’t mean to sleep the last three and a half hours. With tomorrow off, the additional sleep shouldn’t throw my schedule off much.
“You ready to go?” I ask as I stand and stretch.
“Whenever you are.” She points to the desk. “Brought the tills in.”
“Thanks.”
After I stow the money and lock the vault, we leave through the back. We head for our individual cars and I wait for her to put hers in drive before I take off.
In the seven minutes it takes us to drive from Roar to Teddy’s, I question every reason why Peyton agreed to eat with me after work. Was it out of sympathy? Did she feel bad because I almost fainted in the club? The Peyton I have known the last year would have left me on the floor and hollered at someone else to call 911 while she stood behind the bar and watched.
But something is different about her. And, for the life of me, I have no clue what.
We step inside Teddy’s and are promptly seated at a booth in the corner. Peyton smiles ear to ear as she scans the menu. Meanwhile, I stare at the laminated page and let my eyes lose focus.
I just don’t get it. After all this time, why be nice now? What does she stand to gain? Is this a game?
Or has she turned over a new leaf?
My hope leans toward the latter. Because if this is just a game, the end may be severe.
