Page 12 of Peyton's Price

“Uh…”

Liam couldn’t believe it. “Are you serious? Can you not even pretend to be friends anymore?”

Peyton sighed. “I apologize, but I don’t want to make my roommate uncomfortable.”

He hadn’t expected to hear that. “What? Who do you live with?”

“His name is Dylan Nguyen. Maggie and I went to high school with him.”

It took him a moment to connect the dots. His lips parted, mouth dropping. “Your roommate is that drug dealer who got expelled?”

Was she serious? What the hell was she thinking?

Peyton’s expression shuttered. “That’s all in the past. Dylan is in tech now, just like me. But he remembers how people judged him for that one mistake. You were particularly vocal. And I don’t want him to be uncomfortable in his own home, so, no, I’m sorry—I can’t ask you in.”

She retreated another step, moving closer to the door. “Thanks for stopping by to check on me, but you should call next time. That way, you won’t waste a trip.”

Liam couldn’t move. Peyton moving away from him was something so unfamiliar, so unexpected, it felt as if he were in shock.

She smiled again. It was almost sad. Wistful. The glow from her porch light shadowed her face, but there was a distinct shimmer in her eyes. “Goodbye,” she breathed before hitching her bag higher on her shoulder.

He watched her, rooted to the spot, as Peyton opened the door and disappeared inside.

* * *

Peyton tookthe drink Dylan handed her without asking what it was. After she took a sip, she coughed as the liquid fire burned her throat all the way down.

“Is that battery acid?” she choked out, her eyes watering.

“Almost. It’s Wall Street Whiskey.” Dylan held up a matching glass of his own before sitting across from her. “It’s extremely popular in Vietnam. My dad used to blow his whole paycheck on the stuff.”

Cocking his head, he studied her face. “Have you recovered yet?”

Peyton shook her head. “I’m not sure you can recover from finding Liam Tyler on your doorstep after a twelve-hour day.”

Dylan shuddered sympathetically. “I don’t blame you at all. One glimpse of him from behind the curtain, and I was right back in high school. I would say he hasn’t changed, but that would be a big fat lie. He’s even more built than he was back then—how the hell does he run a hotel chain if he spends all that time in the gym?”

Peyton huffed out an unwilling laugh. “He likes to work out his frustrations.”

“What frustrations does he have? According to Forbes, he’s kicking ass and taking names.” Dylan took a sip, then reached over to pat her hand. “I’m sorry he came here.”

She ducked her head. Since moving, Dylan had become her confidante. Brokenhearted and unable to hide it, she’d spilled her guts about Liam, his engagement, and why she’d felt the need to move across the country out of the blue.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” he said. “You need to start dating. Try Tinder or something.”

Peyton winced. “I don’t think I can handle that. I need to start small.”

Dylan took another swig of his drink. “Why? I say jump in the deep end. What is that old saying? The best way to get over someone is to getundersomeone else?”

“I’ve never…I’ve never been one for casual sex,” she corrected.

Her friend watched her with a frown. “You were going to say something else.” His eyes widened. “Oh, my God.”

Peyton held up a finger. “Stop right there. Don’t say it.”

“You’ve never ever? Not with anyone?”

Groaning, she collapsed deeper in her chair. For years, she’d treated her virginity like a prize to be claimed by the right man. Only it was a prize no one wanted.

---