Maybe I'm the One You Like

If you asked me a week ago, a month ago, hell, if you asked me five years ago, I would never tell you that I’ve been wrong. About anything. I would never admit to such a thing. And even if I was wrong about something, I probably wouldn’t fess up and admit it. I wasn’t like that. I wasn’t like that at all.

Yet for some reason, I found myself standing on Peyton’s front step ringing the door bell, praying that no one would answer so I could just go home with the notion that I at least tried. After a moment I concluded that no one besides Peyton was home, and I still made an effort anyway, and that was good enough for me-

"Hello Alex," Mrs. Arnette said as the door swung open. "How can I help you, sweetie?"

Luck was not on my side today, evidently.

"Um, is Peyton home?" I mumbled, scratching the back of my neck. Of course she was home, Alex, you dumbass.

"She is, didn't you see her on the bus?"

“N-no, I drive to school.”

"Oh, I see. Hm, if Peyton ever missed the bus do you think she could catch a ride with you?" Mrs. Arnette asked.

"I guess," I muttered. Fuck. "Is she home?"

"She's up in her room. Right at the top of the stairs."

I nodded at bolted up the stairs, trying to get away as soon as possible. Her room was easy enough to find; the girly stars and hearts littering the door was a dead giveaway. I knocked on the door softly before opening it. "Peyton?" I said softly as I stepped into the room. It was a typical girl’s room, purple walls, pictures of bands plastered everywhere, clothes on the ground, panties in the hamper...and Peyton was sitting on her bed, glaring at me as if I were the devil. Her eyeliner was a bit smudged and her hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She had also thrown on a dark blue hoodie over her shirt that looked to be about three sizes too large. I shifted my weight to my other foot and hesitantly waved.

"Get out," she sniffled.

"Peyt, I-”

“Get OUT.”

“I just wanted to-”

“Get the fuck OUT,” she roared, and grabbed a book off her nightstand, chucking it at my face.

“Watch it!” I snapped. “God dammit, I’m trying to be nice to you and you’re not even giving me a fucking chance!”

“You’re an asshole,” she glared. “You need to leave.”

“But-”

“What are you even DOING here?”

“I don't really know," I said honestly. "But I feel like I should make sure you're, um, okay."

"Save your breath." She sniffled again and reached across for another book.

“Woah, okay, stop,” I said, holding up my hands in surrender. “Let’s not blow this out of proportion.”

"You know, I can handle being the new girl," she muttered. "I expected people to talk about me. Oh look, who’s that girl? I’ve never seen her before. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve already heard it. But what I can't tolerate is you calling me fat."

"What! When did I say that!" I exclaimed. "You're putting words in my mouth!"

"You keep talking about food and how I keep eating, Alex! Do I honestly look that huge?” She crossed her arms and seemed to shrink into the pillows on her bed.

“Of course not!” I groaned. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize-“

“No shit you didn’t realize.”

“Well, you know that you’re fucking skinny, right?” I mumbled, racking my brain for something to say so she’d feel better. “I mean, you’re attractive, there’s no denying that. You really think I, the most shallow asshole at our school would think a fat girl was hot?” I surprised myself at how true that sounded.

“I guess not...” Peyton shrugged. “Just...please stop. I can’t take your shit on top of everything else.” She looked up at me and I nodded.

“Okay,” I nodded. “I’m sorry. Truce?” I held out my hand to her and after a moment, she hesitantly shook on it.
“Whatever, Alex. Truce.”

“Good.” I ran over to her bed and jumped on it, bouncing a couple of times before kicking off my shoes and getting comfortable. Peyton giggled and tried to push me off, but I held my ground and she gave up pretty quickly. She was pretty cute when she wasn’t busy hating me. “So this is your room,” I observed. She nodded.

“We painted it a few days ago.”

“That’s cool.” We sat in silence for a moment until my phone went off. I saw that Jack was calling and picked up immediately. “Yeah?”

“Party,” Jack replied. “You in?”

“Most definitely,” I grinned. “When and where?”

“Half an hour. Eliza Thompson’s place. I’ll pick you up.” Jack hung up and I turned to Peyton quickly. “I’ve gotta go,” I told her.

“Bye,” she said, but by then I was already out the door.

--

“Party, party, where’s the alchy?” Jack sang as he danced around the kitchen, already drunk. I laughed from my place on the counter next to Eliza.

“Great party,” I mentioned to her. She smirked.

“I always throw good parties, Gaskarth.”

“True, true. But face it sweetie, I just make it that much better.” She smirked as I inched closer to her overly glossed lips, touching the inside of her thigh ever so lightly.

“Agreed,” she breathed as she kissed me roughly and grabbed onto my hair. We got to making out and in the blur of it all I pulled her off the counter and up the stairs. I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.

--

Peyton’s POV.

It was weird of Alex to apologize to me. Him, of all people. It’s weird that we were actually civil to each other for once. Granted, it was for maybe two seconds, but it was a start, right? Normally, he’s a jackass and I bitch at him and we hate each other and move on. But for a moment there, we actually acted like friends. Until his friend called him and he left to go to a party. Someone should really tell Jack to lower his voice on the phone.

Now he’s probably hooking up with another girl at a party, and I’m alone at home, in an unfamiliar town that I was forced to move to. I had no friends, just someone that wants to get in my pants.

But that could be taken as flattery, right? He wants to hook up with me and therefore I must not be as disgusting as I thought. Or maybe he just hasn’t seen all of my flaws yet.

I stood up and looked at myself in the full length mirror, examining everything that was wrong with me. Contrary to what he told me, I wasn’t the skinniest girl at school. I could drop a few pounds. And come to think of it, I did eat a lot at dinner tonight. That couldn’t stay in my body and make me look bigger. That had to change. Even my giant sweatshirt that usually does a pretty good job of hiding everything wasn’t cutting it.

I made sure my parents weren’t around before I snuck into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I hated doing this to myself. I knew it was a bad idea from the very first time I tried. But after one last look in the mirror, there was simply no other option. It had to be done. I just tried not to let the tears blur my vision too much as I lifted up the toilet set.