Peyton
peyton
. . .
M y sister sits next to me in the salon chair. We watch each other through the mirrors, both grimacing when the stylists pull our hair. Whoever said beauty is pain, wasn’t joking. I swear tears have threatened to expel a few times. I get it, they’re in a hurry. It’s Beaumont High’s prom night and everyone needs their hair done.
Our mom alternates from sitting in the waiting area to pacing behind our chairs. She makes me nervous with her up and down fussing. I don’t know if she’d be this way if I wasn’t going to prom with Noah. To me, he’s just Noah, the boy I grew up loving. The man I picture myself married to in my dreams, which will never be a reality. He’s famous or well on his way to stardom. All the sports reporters love him. They love his game, his tenacity for winning. And it doesn’t hurt that he exudes charisma. I only told her yesterday Noah would take me to prom. I feared what she would say, mostly because I didn’t want her to accuse me of asking.
I didn’t ask.
I didn’t have to.
Part of me knew this when I told him I didn’t have a date. He would come to my rescue. He always would. Noah and I have a bond—it's unbreakable. People on the outside, including our parents, don’t see it. But it’s there. It’s strong and unwavering, even when he has a girlfriend. I will always exist and be a part of his life.
Many have commented about us having this brother-sister type relationship and that’s so far from the truth, it’s not even funny. He may be that way with Elle, but not with me. It’s different for us. He’s the one I’m meant to be with. He’s also the one I will never have.
With the last curl pinned, and my hair sprayed, Elle and I stand with our mom at the counter and wait while she pays. Elle’s going with Ben, her best friend. He has a crush on her, but she either doesn’t see what’s right in front of her face or she’s ignoring it. I think it’s the latter. She likes Ben and cherishes their friendship and doesn’t want to ruin things by hooking up. It makes sense because we have few friends. Because of our dad, we keep our circle small and tight. No outsiders and we’re instantly suspicious of anyone who suddenly wants to be our friends. Especially those who just move to town.
The kids at school think we’re weird. Maybe we are. We keep to ourselves mostly. For all I know, it’s a twin thing and we just blame our dad because him being famous gives us an easy scapegoat.
When we get home, our dad greets us at the door. “There are snacks on the table,” he says. Elle makes a plate and sits down while I linger, picking at the spread.
“What’s wrong?” Dad asks.
“Nothing. I’m queasy.”
“Are you nervous about going to prom with Noah?” Elle asks.
I nod and move a grape around my plate. “I think it’s a mistake. People are going to hound him.”
“Noah’s used to the attention,” Dad says. “If he didn’t want to go, he wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
Elle finishes and we head upstairs to our room to do our make-up. Neither of us wanted to have it professionally done because undoubtedly you end up looking like someone you’re not. Besides, Elle’s great at contouring and all that extra stuff and I trust her.
“All done,” Elle says. I spin and look into the mirror. Everything looks natural, from my foundation to eye shadow, to my lipstick. “Noah’s going to freak.”
“No, he’s not,” I tell her.
“He is, Peyton. If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t fly to Beaumont to take you to prom.”
“He loves me as much as he loves you.”
“That’s a lie. He looks at you differently.”
I don’t want to argue with her. I know she’s right, except for the love part. He loves me because we’re close. It’s not the kind of love I want from him. I want him to be mine, and only mine.
Elle finishes her make-up just in time. The doorbell rings and Ben’s voice echoes upstairs. “He’s early,” Elle says as I help zip the back of her dress.
Is he early or is Noah late?
“I see that look on your face, Peyton. Noah will be here.”
“I know he will.” Noah would never stand me up. If he can’t make it, he would’ve called.
I stay in my bedroom and let Elle have her moment with Ben and my parents. From the doorway, our mom gushes about how beautiful she is and now they need to pose for photos. The doorbell chimes. I know it’s Noah. I can sense him.
“Holy shit!” I hear Ben say. “Noah Westbury! Elle, that’s Noah Westbury. Wait, are you taking Peyton to prom?”
I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“I am,” Noah says and instantly my body temperature rises. His soft, sulky voice does things to me it probably shouldn’t.
“Peyton, honey. Noah’s here.”
With a steady, calming breath, I leave my bedroom and make my way downstairs, where the man of my dreams awaits.