Page 29 of Her Devils

7.

A Rough Deal

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Peyton

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THINGS HAVE CHANGED.

The thought crosses my mind as I nurse my alcohol-free beer. Yeah, contrary to what everyone thinks, my athletic performance is my priority, and I never drink the day before a dive or jump.

Obviously before Dad laid down the law about shedding our heartbreaker reputation, I’d taken the edge off the competition jitters by getting laid.

Now I’m just doing as I’m told and showing my face at this lame party, looking at my smart watch and counting the seconds until it’s acceptable to leave.

My mind should be sharp and focused on tomorrow’s dive, on starting the season with a bang—no pun intended—but instead, all I can think about is her.

Lenley, just in case anyone was wondering.

I want to go up to her room and forget about the anxiety that grips me before every official jump in her arms.

Channing got there before me, though, the sneaky bastard, and how can I blame him? If Dad hadn’t been riding me so hard about “treating Lenley like a little sister,” I’d have raced my brother upstairs.

The fact that I’m not the only one who’s miserable tonight is no consolation.

J has been trying to get rid of Anna Penn since we left the tour bus, and I lift my “near beer” to him when he sends me a disgruntled look as Anna drags him to the dance floor in the middle of the tent.

I don’t know what kind of plans Dad and Gina have for our teams, but the fact that Dad told me that playing nice with the Angels is a priority right now tells me they are planning something.

Whatever that is, I’m going to bide my time and wait until I can rub Penn’s face all over the fact that I’m the better diver.

I scan the room, assessing the situation, eager for a way out of here.

Dad and Gina are at the bar, talking to one of the organizers of this mixer.

Sarah, Lenley’s best friend, is on the dance floor with Trent and Niko, the other two members of the Angels.

I know Kiara was tasked with manning the merchandise booth right outside the tent—she was pretty vocal about her displeasure that she was going to miss the party—and that leaves Penn sans girlfriend. I spot him standing at the opposite side of the tent, surrounded by a gaggle of adoring fans—female fans.

I’m sure Kiara would be less than pleased if she saw him enjoying the groupies’ attention, but how does that saying go? When the cat’s away, the mice will play, and Penn is the worst type of rat there is.

“Hey, you’re Peyton Cox, right?”

The feminine voice comes from behind me, and I jump, almost dropping my bottle of alcohol-free beer.

I turn around, taking in the blonde wearing a pink, latex Barbiecore minidress. Don’t ask how I know about Barbiecore, Sarah and Lenley were discussing the trend in detail a couple of days ago.

“Yeah, I’m Peyton.”

Her overly plump lips stretch in a flirty smile as she pushes her chest out, offering me her hand to shake. “I’m Starla, nice to meet you. You’re my favorite diver, my idol,” the girl continues. “I’ve been following you and your team since you guys started off in Texas. I also went to every event you guys did on the West Coast.”

I take a better look at her, panic making cold sweat run down my spine.

Did I fuck her?

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says.

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