she's beauty, she's grace, she'll punch you in the face

“Yeah, with the same enthusiasm as a Sisters of Mercy fan,” Jackson countered, forehead creasing as he shook his head. He wouldn’t let Peyton make him think that he was overreacting, because he knew fine well that this wasn’t how friends greeted each other after a long time apart. Heck, Gus was treated to cheek kisses and huge, tackling hugs if he spent too long in line at KFC. Jackson just missed people easily.

“People grow up but that doesn’t mean they just forget about their friends,” he argued. He fought to keep the hurt out of his tone but it was hard.

Jackson wasn’t exactly well versed in bottling up his feelings. He was a complete open book, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Everyone knew when Jackson was sad or happy or angry or even when he was feeling petty. And he was feeling pretty downright petty at that moment as he sulked at Peyton, searching her face for any signs of his best friend. He didn’t want her to suddenly spin around and de-wig herself to reveal a giggling blonde ready for tea parties and games of make believe, but a smile wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Peyton agreeing to grab coffee with him was a small victory, even though the way she relented sounded more like he’d wore her down than her actively wanting to join him. He had to take what he could get at that moment though before he figured out a way to break through the walls Peyton had built up around herself. Was that intrusive? Jackson only meant well, but maybe he was being too pushy. To rectify that, he turned to head back into the mall, figuring that Peyton would still want to give him some sort of wide berth so people wouldn’t think that they were walking together. She’d still have to sit with him in Starbucks, but her current mood meant he’d ruled out asking the barista to print a cutesy or embarrassing nickname on her coffee cup.

Just as he’d turned though, he heard it. The initialled nickname that was so generic, but also gave him the first pang of hope he’d felt since Peyton had thrown a teddy bear at him.

Turning, eyes wide, he didn’t bother to hide his expression. It wasn’t like he could if he tried anyway. He stayed still as Peyton walked forward a little hesitantly before eventually sliding her arms around him in her own mimicry of a hug.

A smile burst onto Jackson’s face and he returned the gesture with a puppylike enthusiasm, pulling the girl into him and hugging her tightly around the shoulders. The hug was a little stiff, and not as warm as their old cuddles used to be, but Peyton was still hugging him and admitting that she missed him and Jackson smiled and pressed his nose into her coloured and unfamiliar hair. He giddily swayed from side to side, shifting one foot to the other and rocking Peyton with him.

“I missed you too,” he grinned. He could hear the strain in her voice and figured that this Peyton probably didn’t let anyone else see her cry, but Jackson hadn’t taken those same steps to maturity so when he eventually let go of Peyton he wiped at his eyes and sniffed lightly. It was no secret that he’d missed Peyton, but Jackson hadn’t even realised how much until she’d allowed herself to hug him.

“So, coffee?” he asked her, offering her his hand and wiggling his fingers.

Peyton couldn’t remember the last time a guy had hugged her. Properly hugged - a sleazy arm around the waist or pat on the butt from whichever locker room jerk had used her to let off some steam that week didn’t count, neither did the semi-affectionate, semi-painful punches on the arm from her brothers. Her dad also didn’t hug, more comfortable chucking her under the chin on the rare occasion she’d done something worth his pride and being no more affectionate with than he was with his sporty, macho litter of sons. 

No, being pressed up against the soft material of a well worn hoody without enough pressure to keep her locked in without it being painful or giving her the chance to break away had become an alien feeling. It was safe and warm and felt just the tiniest bit like home, or the closest semblance Peyton had of one anyway. Despite it taking a hold of her and twisting her personality, accent and look into something different, Peyton had never truly settled into Texas even as it worked its way through her. 

Home was Ella singing and Gus crunching Doritos loudly through whatever movie was playing and good natured laughter when Sherrie’s bow shrieked off the strings and hugs from Jackson. Home was her mom and although she knew that wasn’t an option anymore, she’d managed despite her own self-sabotage to get one out of four on the remaining criteria and that wasn’t too bad a start. 

“Ugh.” She grumbled, pulling out of the embrace despite feeling like she could easily spend the next hour, day, lifetime in it. She was pretty sure that wasn’t normal, even with friends, but she hadn’t had enough experience with those in recent years to judge. 

“Don’t be a fucking sap.” She complained, rolling her eyes hard enough to hurt on purpose so she could take the extra moment to push back any traitorous tears that might be hanging around despite her attempts to keep the at bay. It was the dumb swaying that had almost got to her, reminding her of misguided attempts by the pair of them at waltzing around Ella’s yard, inspired by her parents showing them how. It had ended with Jackson accidentally stepping on her foot and Peyton purposefully stomping on his, but their friendship had survived through till the next day and his two left feet had improved alongside it. 

“And I didn’t ‘forget you’, drama queen.” She added, keeping her tone deliberately light. The comment had stung and if she really processed the thought behind it, that Jackson thought she’d forgotten the gang when they were the sole reason she’d traipsed her way across America since there was nothing else for her in Cherry Grove other than a dead end minimum wage job and an empty apartment, she knew she’d build up a rage that would make Jackson realise her earlier behaviour was barely skimming the surface of what could bubble up inside her unwanted and uncontrollable. “Why’d you think I’m even here?”

Not really wanting an answer or to delve into that discussion, she shifted uncomfortably from a mixture of trying to be more open and the cold breeze along her bare arms. 

“Coffee.” She confirmed. “Got any whisky to go in it?” Letting her mouth curl up the tiniest bit, the first semblance of a smile she’d shown that day, she caught his eye. “I gotta go back to work after, kiddin’.” 

She brushed past him, back to the warmth of the mall. Unfortunately, that warmth also came with the price of screaming kids, the smell of greasy food and unfortunately bright cheap lights. “Mostly.” She muttered to herself.

@ritapark: @peytonsays like figuring out when to shut your damn mouth wanna make out?

@peytonsays: @ritapark i'd say yes but then i wouldn't get to see you flounder on here some more

@ritapark: THANKS

That’s the one. Maybe she didn’t realise we were adopted and our genetics are a little different. But also if she didn’t realise that, I’d be kinda worried about her.

What is it with adults comparing you to other sproglets just because they popped out before you? 

Huh. Our guidance counselor loved a basketcase. As soon as she realised I wasn’t going to follow in JP’s footsteps, it was like I’d given her her Christmases and birthdays all at once. I was the perfect case study for a total shit show.

Isn’t your brother that football player? What did she expect, a fucking family All-Star team? 

And she didn’t manage to therapy it out of you?

I think she was too scared to try. Plus, once I graduated that was the last of my fucking bigass family to go through so she figured she wouldn’t have to bother.

It’s disturbing that your mind went there, of all places.

I have been told I’m disturbing. In fact, it was highlighted on my form in the guidance counsellor’s office.

You think I deliberately walk into the boys bathroom just so I can see them not wash their hands?

Whatever gets your motor running, I won’t judge.

Huh, I never really saw it in a ‘lesser of two evils’ kinda way, but I suppose… For real though, fellas, that can happen to anyone. Give a girl a break!

Uhhh, I don’t think it can happen to anyone. Unless you’re doing it on purpose?

Me or the dudes? Either way, correct.

You, you fuckwit. Although at least they were angry and not creepy.

@rxttenmal: boring cunts

@ellatremaine: @peytonsays Oh... Isabella just sent me a rather... lewd? text... ha! How funny! :)

@peytonsays: @ellatremaine ella. pls. turn ur phone off.