Get Lost (8 page)

“Why not?”

“Because I spend all my time with you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Slightly taken off guard, I blush. “I never said it was.”

“You know what is a bad thing?” Justin leans in closer. “That we’ve been dating for about three weeks and I haven’t had the chance to kiss you yet.” Flabbergasted, I nervously cover my lips with a couple of fingers.

To no surprise, we are interrupted by the sound of Peter, who’s being escorted by two cheerleaders who are in their game day outfits, which consist of dark green, gray, and black miniskirts and halter tops.

Once he arrives at our table, Justin leans back as Peter smiles at them. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have some business to do.”

“Of course.” They lean over, and each places a kiss on his cheek.

Once they’re out of sight, he adjusts his school tie. “How is my favorite couple today?”

“We were  good.” Justin  emphasizes with  a wide smirk as he rubs the back of my hand.

“Wow, you guys are so good at this that you’ve almost convinced me this is real rather than a giant ploy.” The words force a deep swallow out of Justin, and he removes his hand.

“What’s up, Peter?” He uncomfortably adjusts himself and his tie.

“Couple of things.” He shrugs simply. “Aiden has a way into the museum but needs a little help from the two of you.”

“What’s he need?” I place my hands gently in my lap. Here it is. Protect my parents or save the world, world wins.

“Aiden needs a way for them to switch security systems to one that he can access—one he can install and have all the codes and passwords to. But in order for that to happen, there needs to be a reason for a change in the system.”

“Like if a rumor were going around that some juvenile high schooler hacked into it to get access to nude paintings.” Justin inputs and strokes his chin.

“Exactly, but we need it to get all the way to the principal because Principal Wilfred will be at the same showing you will be tonight, and from what I’ve heard, he and Ms. Middleton, the museum’s head  manager, are quite cozy.”

“So, you figure that, if I mention something about a kid bragging, Principal Wilfred will confirm that it happened and suggest a security system. Then, that’s where I can suggest Aiden’s made-up company, and we’re in.” The puzzle pieces are much easier to put together once you’ve done this a couple of times.

“Exactly. However, we need Principal Wilfred to hear the rumor the only way that would really catch his attention.” Peter smiles and waves at a couple of sophomores passing by. “An e-mail sent by Secretary Lisa. We’re going to need to get onto her computer, forward an e-mail to her from an anonymous sender, and forward that to Principal Wilfred. They both need to be out of their offices in order for this to work.”

“How do you propose we do that?” I tap my fingers on my lap.

Peter starts, “Wilfred takes his lunch break in an hour—”

Quickly, I interrupt, “And I’m in class.”

“Art class.” Justin chimes in. “Just say you forgot your sketchbook in your locker, and you’re free for a few minutes.”

Nodding, Peter continues, “Magically, Lisa’s going to need to refill her coffee, and magically, the coffee pot in the office is going to be empty, meaning she’ll have to travel to the lounge on the floor    below.”

“Are you magical?” I smile sweetly.

“In all sorts of ways.”The banter causes Justin to kick Peter under the table. He rebounds and then points to Justin. “You are going to hack into her computer, get the e-mail sent, and we’ve got our in.”

“What do you need me for?” I point to myself. “Lookout.” Peter informs. “I’ll be stationed on the lounge floor and text you when she’s  headed  your way, and you flag Justin out. Your locker is at the perfect location.”

“Easy enough.” Justin licks his lips and winks at me playfully, causing me to giggle.

Peter slides Justin’s half eaten sandwich over to himself. After taking a bite, he grumbles. “I think it’s time for you to meet her parents.”

“Why would I need to do that?” Justin asks.

“So they aren’t suspicious when she says she’s taking a date to the gala. Everyone knows you don’t think twice about the guy who’s dating your daughter when you’ve already met and approved him, otherwise all night, his attention will be on the two of you. He’ll be trying to contact you constantly and be worried when you don’t respond. He might even go so far as to cancel and find a way to escort the two of you, which is the last thing we need. Now Peyton, do you think your parents will be okay with meeting him tomorrow night?”

“Um,” I shut my sketchbook. “I think so. I’ll mention it tonight while we’re out. I’ve never had a guy come over for dinner, so I can only imagine that my parents will be relieved.”

“Dinner?” Justin smiles wildly  at  me. “You’re going to make me dinner?”

Innocently, I bite my bottom lip. “Maybe.”

Perturbed by our happiness, Peter smirks deviously and takes another bite of the sandwich. “Well, no worries. Justin’s had plenty of practice meeting girls’ parents, haven’t you?”

Blindsided, I turn my head to Justin, whose smile fades as he slowly licks his lips and his attention turns to Peter. “Yup.”

“All those girls and all those gold stars from their parents. If it was a sport, Justin would take home the gold medal, wouldn’t you, pal?”

Uncomfortable, Justin hesitates  before responding. “I don’t know about a gold medal.”

“So modest.” Peter turns to me before continuing. “All right then, I’ll let you two lovebirds get back to lunch.” He points back and forth at us before having the final bite of the sandwich and leaving the wrapper on the table.

As soon as Peter’s out of sight, Justin slowly turns his head to me. Seeing the disappointed look on my face, he sighs. “Why are you giving me that look?”

“Lots of practice? Gold medal?”

“What? You’re mad that I had girlfriends before you?”

“No.” Offended by the comment, I slide my sketchbook in my backpack, while my voice quivers. “And I’m not your girlfriend, remember? Pretending…”

“Peyton,” his voice whimpers, trying to stop me from getting up. “Peyton. Peyton, wait!  Where are you going?”

“Art class, where else?” I slide my bag over my shoulder and storm off.

In the middle of class, my phone lights up from inside my purse with an unknown number. Realizing what time it is, I figure it’s Peter and time for me to do my part. Just like  he planned, I’m issued the pass to retrieve my art book as well as to use the restroom. Quickly, I haul myself from the art building all the way to the main building and up the stairs to the locker, just as Lisa huffs down the hallway with her coffee tumbler.

I glance over to see Justin rounding the corner from the other side. He tosses his hat in my direction, and I quickly slip it in my locker. Irritated, I allow my eyes to follow him as he strolls into the principal’s office. Cleverly, I drop the hat behind my feet, raise my smartphone up, and pull a tube of lip gloss I’m prone to carrying around thanks to Belle out of my pocket in preparation to look as if I’m applying it. Nervous, I wait for my cue, which is sent to me approximately four minutes after Justin went into the office.

Hopeful that it was enough time, I drop one of my books out of the locker, which sends a loud echo through the hall. Picking up the book, I glance over my shoulder, waiting for Justin to come strolling out of the office. Moments after he does, I hear Lisa’s heels clicking up the stairs. After grabbing my book and slipping him his hat, I close my locker and glance over at Lisa, who suspiciously glances at me.

“What are you doing?” She slowly pulls the cup of coffee up to her orange, lipstick covered lips.

“Just grabbing my art book.” I give her a small glance. With a short smirk, I compliment her skirt. “Love the color.”

“You’re so sweet.” She bobbles her frizzy, curled hair. I smile and turn my body toward the stairwell. Unsure of where Justin went, I hustle back to my art class. I settle in just as Ms. Kennedy begins her lecture. She informs us to turn a specific page, which is when I find a folded note with a flower doodled on it in the front of my book.

Slowly, I open it and reveal a note:

I know sorry isn’t going to be enough.

With a half-cocked smile, I lean forward and do my best to pay attention to the lecture.

After school, I make myself comfortable on the couch where I can hear my parents discussing my father’s inability to attend tonight, something that irks my mother greatly.

“You’re missing more and more of these things,” my mother huffs, strolling out of their bedroom in a black pencil skirt, unbuttoned brown blouse, and distracting wicker jewelry.

“I’m sorry.” My father apologizes, following behind her, yet turning the direction of his office. “But things have come up. I have to take care of  them, for  the sake of—”

“I swear if you say business, I’ll throw my shoe at you.” She parks her hands on the back of the couch where I am.

“Our family,” he calls from the usually locked room. “What are you doing?” she growls as he comes out clinging onto a file.

“I have to mail some things before I fly out tonight.”

“Who mails anything these days?” her voice whispers to me make me giggle.

Not having heard her, he continues, “Look honey, really I’m sorry, but I just have to go tonight. I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?” She tilts her head.

Desperate to please the only woman I think he’s ever loved, he croaks, “Anything you want.”

“I want a family dinner here at the house—you, me, Peyton, and her new boyfriend.” She weasels it into the conversation.

Suddenly, my father freezes and looks at me. His small frame stands tall and defensively. “You have a boyfriend? Since when?”

“Where do you think she’s been these last few weeks?” my mother snips.

Clueless, he tosses a hand in the air. “The library?” After receiving a sarcastic look, he turns to face me. “You really haven’t been home, have you?”

I shake my head, and mom snaps again, “Nice of you to notice.”

“I guess this”—he waves the file around—“has had me so focused that I didn’t.”

“What is that?” The question slips out of my mouth. “Just a few things your grandparents insisted that

I get together.” Quickly, he changes the subject back. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Kind of,” I mumble, trying not to turn red.

“Well, I want to meet him,” he declares proudly. “You care enough to call him that. I care enough to meet him.”

“Tomorrow night,” my mother asserts loudly. “Tomorrow, but today I have work to do.” He grabs his suit jacket from the coatrack. “I love you both. Enjoy the showing.”

“We will.” My mom sighs before he strolls over, kisses her on the cheek and me on the forehead, and leaves. Once she hears the front door close, she leans over the couch. “See, told you it would be easy.”

Giggling, I shake my head and continue the sketch of Justin I was working on from earlier. The easy part is getting my parents to let him come over; the hard part is selling the idea that they can trust him when I’m still wondering if I can.

Chapter Six

With my face buried in my sketchbook, I enjoy the early morning breeze. I allow my hand to continue the drawing I was working on from the day before. This time, instead of aiming to get Justin’s face, I’m coloring in the orange on the juice container.

“That him?” My mother plops down beside me in the wicker patio chair.

Innocently, I answer, “Yeah.”

“He’s cute.” She nods, slowly pouting her lips. “Is this your only sketch of him?” Giving her a mocking look, she tosses her hands in the air. “Stupid question. Can I see the others?”

Nodding, I flip backward and show her the different sketches of him I’ve managed to capture. There’s one from the day after we first met, one from the museum, one from a romantic dinner date, one from our jewelry store incident, one from another picnic lunch in the park, and of course, the orange juice one from yesterday. In between the sketches are ones of Aiden and Eiden, and of course, Peter and  Belle.

“Who’s this?” She points to the twins, the way they looked at the food court.

“Couple of friends of his,” I comment, smirking at the difference of eye color. “I guess mine now too.”

“Hmm,” she hums out, forcing me to look back down instead of out into traffic. “Who’s   this?”

“Oh, that’s Peter,” I comment like it’s not a big deal, hoping that, as long as I’m nonchalant about it, she won’t pick up on anything else. “Justin’s best friend.”

“He’s looks so familiar. He almost looks like…”

“Honey,” my               father’s              voice               pierces              through hers, allowing me to close the sketchbook quickly, “you ready?”

“Of course.” She hums and stands up, her pink coat in her arms. “Now, you’re sure this isn’t going to take all day, right? I’m going to need to be back in time to make dinner for Peyton and her boyfriend…”

“Justin.”

“Justin.” My mom nods as my father slides his black blazer on.

“No worries. I set us up for dinner reservations at C’est Chic.” He winks at me, knowing it’s my favorite restaurant. “We will meet you there tonight. All right, sweetie?”

“Okay, Dad.” I smile as he leans over and places a kiss on my forehead.

“Now, let’s get going. The car’s waiting.” He points to the black vehicle that usually drives them around town. As I wave goodbye to them, I stand up to recharge with a good breakfast before heading off to school. I lay my sketchbook down on top of my bag and make myself a bowl of yogurt and sliced apples. Mid-bite of the first apple, I hear the doorbell ring. Curious as to who it could be, I prance over to the door and look through the peephole. Seeing only a badge, I cautiously open the door to see a flower delivery man holding a vase of red roses.

“I’m looking for a Peyton  Darling.” He  shows me his badge and delivery work order.

“That’s me.” I smile sweetly.

“In here, boys,” he calls to someone in the hall before handing me the vase. I watch as a group of delivery boys start hauling in vases, two at a time, each with a dozen red roses. Without being able to resist the sight of them filing in, I keep my eyes on the front door with my jaw on the ground as thirty six vases congregate in my living room and kitchen.

As soon as they are all settled, I sign the paperwork and am instantly handed a white envelope, which I can only assume is a card.

Roses are red, Violets are blue,

I know I was a jerk, But I miss you.

With a soft smile, I stare at the card written in his amazing cursive handwriting.

“Excuse me, miss.” I hear the voice of one of the workers pipe up.

“Hmm?” I hum out, still in awe over the card. “Excuse me.” He repeats himself.

Irritated that he wants my attention, I look up to see Justin in one of the florists’ suits. Immediately, I squeal, “You were here the whole time!”

Nodding slowly, he smiles softly before I toss my arms around him for a warm embrace. Justin, with a relieved sigh, hugs me tightly, both arms around my waist, and snuggles closely.

After a few minutes of silence and a longing gaze into my eyes, he asks, “So, are you still mad at me?”

“Kind of.” My shoulders shrug slightly. “It’s hard to be mad when you’ve sent so many flowers.”

“That’s the hope.”

“Have you seen all those flowers? Do you know how much time someone took to prune those and make sure they were perfect? I mean, I can’t believe you were able to even find that many flowers in one shop! In fact I—”

“Peyton.” Justin brings me out of my anxiousness.

Pulling my arms away from him slowly, I ask, “What was Peter talking about…about all those girls?”

After taking a moment to process his thoughts, he licks his lips. “So, before I gave up my life to be a Lost Boy, I was a lot like Peter.”

“A jerk?”

With a bit of a laugh, he nods. “Girls fell at my feet. There was never a moment in time that I didn’t have a date. There was never a girl I couldn’t have. So I’ve dated quite a few girls, met many of their parents, and done quite a few things.”

“Oh.”

“But I didn’t want to tell you because that’s not who I am anymore. I’m a different person now. I care about my choices. I care about people, and I know how much better life is when, well, you actually put your heart into a relationship.”

“We’re in a relationship?” The question forces me to raise my eyebrows.

“I don’t usually send that many roses to girls I’m not involved with.”

“I thought I was just a decoy.”

“Maybe to them.” He reaches out to wrap his arms around me again. “But to me—”

“Prove it.” I stand up for myself for what feels like the first time since I met him. “You know me and so many of my secrets, but you…Every time I look up, there’s something new that slaps me in the face. I mean, what’s the deal with the tattoo on your wrist? Why is there a musical note? What about your family? Your parents? What’s with the skeleton key you carry around? That key looks so ancient that I don’t think it could open a pharaoh’s tomb. And what’s Neverland?”

“Slow down, Us Weekly.” He chortles, placing his hands in the air. After a small pause, Justin says, “Spend the day with me?”

“We have class in like forty five minutes.”

“Skip.”

“I’ve never skipped class before.”

“Everyone has to try it at least once,” he says encouragingly with his mischievous grin. “Come on. Skip school this one day, and I’ll let in on some of those secrets.”

“Some?” I tilt my head. “I want all those answers.”

“I’ll give you those answers and probably more, but only if you skip school and spend the day with me,” he says in his familiar, charming voice.

Staring deep into his eyes, I grin at how adorable he looks in a florist’s delivery boy suit before I let out a heavy sigh. How often does a guy dress up and do something like this? I can’t even remember the last guy who gave me anything, including a sweet smile. And, not to mention, the curiosity of not knowing much about the person I’m going to help save the world with is beginning to weigh on me. “Deal.”

“Do you mind if I change first?” He points to the uniform.

“I don’t know. I kind of like you like this.” I laugh as he backs away from me. After a painful look, I point, “Bathroom’s that way.”

Justin grabs a bag and saunters over to the hallway, while I turn to stroll into the kitchen where my parents leave a pad of in case you don’t feel well notes for me to use. I grab one of the pre-signed notes and return to munching on my breakfast while waiting on Justin, who’s taking his dear, sweet time to get dressed. After what feels like a class period, he finally comes out of the hallway dressed in his usual black dress pants, but this time, he sports a light gray button down and loose, black tie.

“Ready?” he asks, tossing the bag over his shoulder as I slide the note in my purse to hand in tomorrow morning.

After a nod, the two of us leave my apartment and drive a few blocks over to his, where, from the moment I step across the threshold, I feel at home. Dropping my backpack, I admire the modern look mixed with vintage, framed art, while he dead-bolts the door and checks the windows.

With a smile, I attempt to slip myself onto the gray leather love seat that I’ve spent many afternoons and evenings on, when he grabs my hand and says, “This way.”

Justin leads us into his bedroom and locks the door, which makes me uncomfortable. I haven’t let him kiss me yet, so why would he assume I was going to let him sleep with me?

I stutter nervously, “U-u-u-m, w-w-what are we doing in here?”

Picking up on the vibes, he turns around and sneers, “What do you think?”

“I…well…I…um…well…you know I…”

“Did you think I brought you here to try to sleep with you?”

After a slight hesitation, I nod, and he shakes his head, disheartened. “You should know by now that I’m more of a gentleman than that. Sydney Barrows said, ‘The more you act like a lady, the more he’ll act like a gentleman.’ If more girls thought about it like that, they’d have all the romance they desire.”

“Like me?”

Justin winks.

“So, what are we doing back here?”

“Just watch.” He informs me before sliding his mattress and box spring off the frame. Justin slides the mystery key out of his pocket. “First answer, the key I carry around in my pocket is for this.” He sticks it into a small hole at the bottom of the frame and turns it. Suddenly, the top part springs open, revealing a set of piano keys, while the bottom part slides up and reveals a set of foot pedals.

“A piano?”

“Yeah.” He grins at it lovingly. With a wiggle, he pulls a collapsible bench from the footboard and slides it over. “Come sit with me.”

Doing as instructed, I watch him as he stares longingly at the keys with a distant look. After several minutes in silence, he sighs. “This was my first love.”

“A piano?”

“Yeah.” He stares at the keys. “See, my dad was a musician. His jazz band toured all across the world playing for those with millions of dollars and those who only dreamed of riches.”

“He played the piano. That’s why you know so much about it.”

“He believed that music, like love, was meant for everyone to enjoy. He taught me how to play.”

“Are you any good?”

“Hmm.” His soft hum is followed by a lick of the lips. “I was. I used to be great. In fact, before I became a Lost Boy, I convinced myself I wanted to follow in Dad’s footsteps. I had it all set up, too. Dad knew the right people to make that happen, but after the accident…”

“What accident?”

“My parents had been traveling so much that they booked us our own special family vacation. It was going to be to the beach, somewhere we didn’t get to go often. God, I was so excited that I counted down the days on the calendar, crossing them off one by one. The night before we were supposed to leave, my parents went out for a special dinner—you know, just the two of them— at their favorite restaurant. While they were out, a major storm hit. They were going to wait it out but decided to try and get home to me before it got worse. On the road though, a car T-boned them. Instant kill.”

“Wow,” the word barely leaks out. Unsure of what else to say, I croak, “I’m so sorry.”

“After that, I retired my piano skills for a while. Eventually, I remembered what my father had always told me, ‘May music always be the guide in your life that it is in  mine.’”

My hand cups my mouth, and I mumble, “Like in the piano book I bought you.”

“That was his piano book.” The words are hard for him to stomach. “I gave it away before I left for Neverland. Music led him away from my alcoholic grandfather, who beat him. Music guided him to my mother, who at the time was the secretary of a promotional company. Music made him want to be a better man, a better husband, and a better father.” A small hum leaves me, and Justin shrugs. “But then, I met Peter. Once we started hanging out, he encouraged me to play less and less.”

“Why?”

“He said it would be easier for me to forget that way, to let my past go. It would be easier to pretend none of it existed—the way a Lost Boy is supposed to live—but really, he was jealous.”

“Peter? Jealous? You don’t say!” The sarcasm causes him to giggle.

“Peter never had a good relationship with his father. Part of him resented me for that.”

“And the other part?”

With a proud snigger, he shrugs. “It gave me one up on him. Belle used to love to listen to me play, which killed Peter. It took her attention away from him. It made her wonder what else could be out there for her, what she could have had, had she not rushed into something with him. And god, he hates being second guessed, not in control, and most definitely, in true competition.”

“Hates a lot of stuff, doesn’t he?”

“So, he made me promise to stop playing before I became an official Lost Boy, and I did. He called it a test of loyalty.” He stares at the keys, his eyes playing them slowly, while his hands shake in anxiety. “The Loyalty Oath is its official name. So, I can look, but I can’t play.”