Читать книгу Diamonds in the Rough - Michelle Madow, Michelle Madow - Страница 10

Chapter 3: Peyton

As much as she hated to admit it—and she still hadn’t to Adrian and Rebecca—Goodman wasn’t as awful as Peyton had anticipated. Back at Fairfield High, each school day had been excruciating, having to sit still all day and listen to teachers drone on and on from the textbooks, talking down to the students when they asked questions. But at Goodman, instead of listening to lectures all day, they had discussions. The teachers treated the students like equals, most of them even going by their first names.

Her favorite teacher was her English teacher, Hunter Sterling. He was in his mid-twenties, and with his shaggy brown hair and dark eyes, he looked startlingly similar to Damon from The Vampire Diaries. His Australian accent only added to his hotness. To impress him, Peyton even tried reading the books for class instead of looking them up on SparkNotes.

She still wasn’t over Jackson, but her deliciously sexy bodyguard—who was also in his mid-twenties—had made it clear since the night they’d kissed in the elevator during the grand opening of the Diamond that they had to keep a professional distance. Peyton had tried to fight him on it—she knew she hadn’t imagined the connection between them—but he refused to budge. And as her bodyguard, he was around her nearly all the time, which made it impossible to not think about him. A distraction like Hunter was just what she needed—for her own sanity, and to maybe respark Jackson’s interest.

Which was why on a Saturday in late September, when she was walking through the Diamond after spending all day at the main pool, luck was on her side when she spotted Hunter sitting by himself at the bar. She reapplied her lip gloss and pulled down her sheer cover-up so that it showed off her cleavage. A glance behind her verified what she already knew—Jackson was on her tail. Perfect. This had to break his wall, or at least make a crack in it.

“Hi, Hunter,” Peyton said, sliding into the seat next to her teacher. Her skirt rose up her thighs, and she crossed her legs toward him, not bothering to pull it down.

“Peyton,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t expect to run into one of my students here.”

“I live here,” she said, figuring he already knew that. Most everyone at Goodman had known who she was from day one, since Adrian Diamond was famous around this city. “I was just coming inside from doing some reading at the pool.” Strangely enough, it was the truth. If she had to do her reading, she might as well be outside instead of cooped up in her room. And sure, she’d only read for fifteen minutes before she’d gotten bored, but Hunter didn’t have to know that.

“For class or for fun?” he asked.

“For class.” Peyton never read for fun in her spare time—that was all Courtney.

“And how are you liking One Hundred Years of Solitude?”

“It’s okay,” she said. “There are parts that confuse me, but I’m doing my best.” Not having much else to say about the book, and hoping Hunter wouldn’t want to have some long, intellectual conversation about it, she was glad when Ramon, the bartender, came over to see if she wanted a drink.

“I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri,” Peyton said, wanting something refreshing after sitting out in the sun all day. Ramon knew she was underage and would give her a virgin daiquiri, but she was curious to see Hunter’s reaction. Was he cool, or would he call her out?

Hunter raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Ramon placed the drink in front of her.

“What brings you to the Diamond?” Peyton asked, sipping her drink.

“It’s slightly embarrassing, but I’ll tell you if you promise not to judge me,” he said in that ridiculously sexy accent of his.

“That’s only fair.” She smiled, trying not to bounce her legs in anticipation.

“I’m meeting someone from Match.com.”

“No way.” She laughed, but composed herself, since she’d promised not to judge him. “Why does someone like you have to use a dating website?”

“Someone like me?”

She gave him a once-over—tall, built, mysterious and a gorgeous Australian accent. “I would have thought you had a girlfriend, or at least would have no problem meeting girls at clubs and bars,” she said. “They probably can’t stay away from you.”

“It’s tough to meet people when you’re new to a country, know nobody and most of your colleagues are twenty years older than you,” Hunter said, taking a swig of his drink. “Plus, my best mate from home met his fiancée on Match, so he convinced me to give it a go.”

“And where’s your date now?”

“We’re not supposed to meet for another twenty minutes.” He glanced at his watch. “But it’s my first time here, and these hotels in Vegas are massive—I didn’t want to get lost. I’ve also never met someone from one of these sites before. I figured that grabbing a drink first might ease the nerves.”

“Cheers to that.” Peyton raised her glass, and he clinked it with hers. She smiled over the rim, her stomach flipping when he smiled back at her. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay here while I finish my drink?” she asked. “I’ll leave before your date gets here, of course.”

“She’s texting me when she gets to the entrance of the hotel, so you’re free to save her seat until she arrives.”

They chatted for the next fifteen minutes, and Peyton learned about life in Australia and how it was different from America. It sounded like the Australians were much more liberal and open-minded than Americans. Peyton thought she would like it there, and she told him so.

Then she spotted Madison Lockhart sitting across the bar with her short-haired blonde friend, Larissa. Peyton hadn’t liked Madison since she’d broken Savannah’s heart over the summer by kissing Damien—the guy Savannah had a crush on—in front of her, just to hurt her. It was cruel, and Peyton and her sisters had kept their distance from Madison ever since.

Madison had her phone out, the camera pointed at Peyton. Larissa glanced at Peyton, laughed at whatever was on the screen, and whispered something to Madison. Then Madison’s eyes met Peyton’s, and she lowered her phone.

Everyone at Goodman knew who Hunter was—the girls talked about him, because he was the only hot teacher in the upper school—but Madison wouldn’t take pictures of him with Peyton and sell them out, would she?

Of course she would. Madison had already proven herself to be a bitch who hated Peyton and her sisters. If this was her latest stunt, there was no way in hell Peyton would let her get away with it.

“You could do a semester in Australia while you’re attending university.” Hunter’s voice zapped Peyton’s focus away from Madison and Larissa, reminding her she was mid­conversation with him. “Studying abroad is an excellent way to immerse yourself in another culture.”

“I’ll look into it,” she said vaguely, since she didn’t feel like getting into the I’m-not-going-to-college conversation. “Anyway, I see some people I know. I should head over and say hi to them.”

She planned on saying a lot more to them than that, but Hunter didn’t need to know the details.

“My date’s almost here, anyway,” Hunter said with what Peyton thought was disappointment. “Thanks for keeping me company while I waited.”

“I enjoyed talking with you.” She stood and straightened her skirt. “Good luck with your internet date. I hope she isn’t too weird.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled. “I hope so, too. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Peyton hurried away, feeling bad about leaving so abruptly—but she had to reach Madison and Larissa before they paid their checks.

She held Madison’s gaze as she approached, as if daring her to back down. The girl didn’t flinch, not even when Peyton was close enough to notice that Madison’s eyes were a similar vibrant shade of blue as hers and her sisters’. She must wear colored contacts.

“What do you want?” Larissa snickered, ending the stare-down. “You looked pretty busy throwing yourself all over Mr. Sterling. I mean Hunter.” She held her hands under her chin and batted her eyes dramatically. “He didn’t reject you…did he?”

“Of course he didn’t reject me.” Peyton glared at Larissa. “But when I spotted the two of you doing something that looked suspiciously like taking pictures of us on Madison’s phone, I had to make sure that wasn’t what was going on. Because if it was, and those pictures got out, he could get fired.” She turned to Madison, who was holding her phone on her lap. “So tell me—were you taking pictures of us, or am I just being paranoid?”

“Calm down,” Madison said evenly. “No one’s going to get fired.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Peyton reached forward and grabbed the phone out of Madison’s hands.

“Hey!” Madison’s mouth dropped, and she swiped for the phone, but Peyton held it out of her reach. “Give that back.”

“Not until I make sure there aren’t any pictures on here of me and Hunter.” She clicked to go into the phone, and huffed when it was locked. “What’s your password?”

“Seriously?” Madison said. “You expect me to give you my password? No way. Give it back.”

She made a move for it again and missed, but not before Larissa got it in her grip. Larissa and Peyton held it tightly, glaring at each other like bulls in a ring, neither of them letting go. The hotel guests nearby were staring, but Peyton didn’t care. She was not allowing those pictures to stay on that phone.

“Is there a problem here?” a stern voice asked from behind—Jackson. He must have looked intimidating, because Larissa let go of the phone, leaving it in Peyton’s grasp. She turned to face him. He was business as usual, although she swore she saw a flicker of amusement in his hazel eyes. “Well?” he said, looking between Peyton, Larissa and Madison like they were all little kids.

Peyton raised her chin, refusing to be belittled. “I have reason to believe there are pictures of me on Madison’s phone that were taken against my will and need to be deleted,” she said, mustering as much snobby-hotel-heiress tone as she could manage without being over-the-top. “I was about to check, but Madison refused to give me her password.”

Jackson took the phone from Peyton and handed it to Madison. “Enter your password, and then give the phone back to Miss Diamond. If she’s mistaken and there are no pictures of her that were taken without her permission, then there’s no harm done. If there are pictures, there will be serious legal repercussions initiated by Mr. Diamond if you don’t allow them to be deleted. And if you refuse to cooperate by not entering your password, the phone will be confiscated under the assumption that you have something to hide. Do you understand?”

“And who exactly are you?” Larissa crossed her arms, although her nasally voice didn’t sound as confident as it had earlier.

“I’m Miss Diamond’s bodyguard.” Jackson moved his suit jacket to the side, giving a glimpse of his gun. Larissa pressed her lips together and shrank back in her seat. “And I suggest that you cooperate. No need to make more trouble for yourselves than necessary.”

Madison grudgingly entered her password and handed the phone to Peyton, who gladly took it from her. Peyton clicked into Madison’s photo album, and sure enough, there were two pictures of her at the bar with Hunter, the two of them having drinks and flirting.

“And you told me to ‘calm down’—as if I’d imagined you taking the pictures?” Peyton sneered and hit the trash can button beneath each one. “Good thing I’m not naive.”

“I told you to calm down because I wasn’t going to post them anywhere public,” Madison said. “You and I might not be friends, but I don’t want to get Hunter fired.”

“So why take the pictures?” Peyton handed the phone back to Madison, feeling lighter now that the pictures were gone.

“Because you were drinking and flirting with our hot Aussie English teacher,” Larissa chimed in. “Why not take pictures?”

Madison looked like she was going to add something, but she didn’t have a chance.

“None of this matters, because the pictures are deleted,” Jackson said. “Now, Peyton, I believe you need to get up to your condo to get changed for dinner. You’re running late as it is.”

“Right,” Peyton said, although she knew as well as Jackson did that there were no dinner reservations that night. She stomped away from Madison and Larissa, not bothering to say bye, the sounds of their whispers and laughter coming from behind her. She would not give them the satisfaction of turning around and glaring at them.

As she made her way to the penthouse elevators, she reminded herself that despite what Jackson had done for her back there, nothing had changed between them. He wasn’t going to open up to her again like he had for those few days over the summer. By intervening and making sure the photos were deleted, he was doing his job. Carl and Teddy would have done the same for Savannah and Courtney. She shouldn’t get her hopes up.

She pressed the button for the elevator, and as always, Jackson appeared beside her. This elevator ride would surely be spent the same way as the rest of them since the kiss—either silent, with vague chitchat or with one-word responses from him when she attempted to have a real conversation. Not like she’d made any recent attempts. His barriers were impossible to break through, and eventually, she’d stopped trying. Being rejected over and over again was too painful.

The elevator was empty except for the two of them. She slid her key card into the slot, and pressed the button for the top floor.

“I could have handled those girls myself,” she said, bracing herself for what would surely be a one-word, emotionless response.

“Not without causing a scene that might have led to people taking more unwanted pictures of you,” he said, his jaw tense. “You need to be more careful.”

She crossed her arms and watched the floor numbers on the display climb. That was worse than a one-word response—clearly he thought she was an impulsive kid. It was opposite from the way Hunter had treated her at the bar—as if she were an adult worthy of real conversation.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Jackson’s voice broke through the silence. “The one your classmates took photos of you with?”

Her breath hitched at the realization that Jackson had asked her a personal question. And that seeing her with Hunter might have made him jealous. Could he still care about her?

“That was Hunter Sterling, from Australia.” She tilted her head toward Jackson, allowing her long hair to drape over her shoulder, and smiled. “Why are you asking?”

“Because he’s too old for you,” Jackson said, concern breaking through his normally impassive expression.

“He’s only a little older than you,” Peyton said playfully. “I would guess twenty-five or twenty-six. So he’s not too old for me. We actually had a rather fascinating conversation.”

“You want me to believe you walked up to this guy randomly and struck up a conversation?” Jackson asked. “I’ve been guarding you for months now, so I know that’s not your typical behavior.”

“And what’s my ‘typical behavior’?”

“You let guys come to you,” he said, his eyes so intense that she forgot to breathe. “Not the other way around.”

“Fine, you’re right,” she admitted. The truth was more interesting, anyway. “He’s my English teacher. I saw him at the bar, and it would have been rude of me to not say hi.”

“That guy was your teacher?” Jackson jerked his head to look at her straight on, his arm muscles flexing.

“Relax.” Peyton kept her tone light. Jackson was definitely jealous—maybe all wasn’t lost between them. “Like I said, it would have been rude of me not to say hi. I had a question about something we’re reading for class, and he helped me out while he waited for his date to arrive. It’s no big deal.”

Jackson focused on the crack in the elevator doors, and Peyton chipped at her black nail polish, worried that the connection between them was gone again. “I hope so,” he finally said, stepping aside so that she could leave the elevator first.

She walked into the hall, and he followed far behind, as if he’d never let his guard down to begin with. But that conversation was enough to give her hope. He still cared about her. They had a chance…. She just had to play her cards right.

And she was getting a distinct vibe not to push him anymore. At least, not right now.

Her phone buzzed with a text, and she took it from her bag, glad for a distraction. It was from someone she hadn’t spoken to in a while: Oliver Prescott. She’d thought she was interested in him during her first few days in Vegas, but once she’d realized what a jerk he was—he’d stupidly bet he could sleep with her and her sisters before the end of summer—she’d moved on. She’d been the only one to sleep with him, and while she hated that she’d been played, better her than Courtney or Savannah. She was the only one of them strong enough to handle it, mainly because she was the only one who wasn’t a virgin. To have your virginity taken by someone who was using you….eyton shuddered at how awful that would feel. Someone would have to do something terrible to deserve that. Even the guy she’d lost her virginity to—her ex-boyfriend, Vince—had thought he loved her at the time.

She opened up the message from Oliver and read it.

Have u thought about what u want me to do for that bet, or are u gonna keep stalling?

Peyton rolled her eyes and threw her phone back into her bag. He didn’t have to clarify what bet he was referring to. Over the summer, Oliver’s parents had set him up on a date with Courtney. They thought she would be a “good influence” on him. At that point, Peyton and Oliver had already hooked up, and she’d been pissed that he’d agreed to go on the date with Courtney instead of bringing her. She’d told him Courtney would never be interested in him, but he’d claimed otherwise, going as far as turning it into a bet. Knowing that Oliver wasn’t Courtney’s type, and that Courtney would never fall for his games, Peyton had agreed. She’d won, and the terms of their bet stated that because Oliver had lost, he had to do any one thing Peyton asked.

Luckily they hadn’t set a time limit, because she still hadn’t come up with the perfect task.

Once she was inside her condo, she took out her phone and replied to the text.

Not yet. But once I do, don’t worry—I’ll let you know.