Page 29 of Fake Out Hearts

“No, not to Canada. It’s a long story,” I say through a sigh. I really should finish packing, but taking a break to spend some time with one of the only friends I have in LA is too appealing to turn down. “I’ll tell you all about it over a cup. Where do you want to meet?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin your schedule.”

“Of course, I’m sure. Besides, I could really use a caffeine jolt right now.”

“Perfect. Then let’s meet at Keen Bean in, like, twenty minutes? Does that work?”

“See you there,” I say and hang up, feeling better already. The rest of my stuff can wait, so I leave it where it is and grab my purse and keys before locking up and leaving. I make it to KeenBean, a small local coffee place not far from my apartment, right on time.

Peyton’s already standing outside the shop waiting for me when I pull up, and I can’t help smiling at what she’s wearing. She’s always been on the more alternative end of the spectrum, so her dark eye makeup, multiple piercings, and plaid skirt with fishnet leggings fits her perfectly.

“I’m glad you agreed to come out,” she greets me as I climb out of the car, pulling me in for a hug.

“Thanks for the invite. I needed it more than you know,” I say, and follow her into the shop. It has a rustic look with exposed venting and stained, coffee-brown concrete floors, and every piece of furniture in the place is a handmade piece of matching wood. Between the quiet ambiance and the smell of fresh grounds in the air, I feel my shoulders drop almost as soon as we step through the front door.

“Order whatever you want, it’s on me,” Peyton says.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. It’s the least I can do for you after all of this.”

“Thanks, Peyton,” I say and try not to tear up as I approach the barista. I don’t need anything super fancy, so I order a quad Americano and an apple scone to go with it. Peyton, however, orders up something I couldn’t repeat even if I tried, but she’s much more into coffee than I’ll ever be.

We pick a high-top table toward the back of the shop where there aren’t many other people and settle in. Peyton smiles at me sadly while she drums her black-painted fingernails on the knotted, polished wood of the table.

“Seriously, are you okay? Screw everything else, I just want to check in on you.”

I shrug. “Like I said, I’m weirdly relieved by it all. It’s like a weight finally lifted and I can breathe again.”

“I get that. Getting cut from an asshole’s world will have that effect on a girl,” she says bluntly, and my eyebrows rise.

I’ve always known Peyton wasn’t Shawn’s biggest fan, but I’ve never heard her talk about him like this so openly—or at least not around me. She smirks at my reaction. “What? I figure I can let it all out with you now, right?”

“Yeah, go nuts.”

“Good. Because heisan asshole, and not just to you.”

“I’m not surprised in the slightest to hear that.”

“And I’m relieved you aren’t. You know, pretty much the entire crew hates his guts, but he’s our meal ticket, like it or not, so we’re stuck with him.”

“I know the feeling,” I say, and Peyton chuckles.

“I bet you do. But I still can’t believe he pulled that shit with you in public with the cameras rolling. That’s a new low, even for him,” she says, shaking her head.

“How bad would it sound if I told you I’m used to that kind of thing by now?”

“Pretty bad, not gonna lie,” Peyton says, and we laugh together. It’s dark, but in a weird way, it’s helping me feel better. Her validation—and reality check—are things I needed more than I realized. At least the rose-colored glasses aren’t slipping on.

The barista calls Peyton’s name to let her know our drinks are ready. “Hold that thought,” she says and gets up to grab our coffees. She returns a few seconds later and sets my americano in front of me, so I pop the lid off and start blowing on its surface. The boiling water they make them with always makes it too hot for me to drink at first.

Peyton sits stirring her complicated coffee concoction with a stirring stick she grabbed on her way back. She stares at me through the steam pouring out of it, and I can tell there’s something she wants to talk about but can’t find the words.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask before braving a sip. It’s still hot, but it’s at least not scalding my mouth.

Peyton sighs and lets go of her stirrer. It spins around the cardboard cup along with the liquid before it stops. “I have to be honest. I didn’t just invite you out to check in on you.”

“I kind of figured that. Whatever it is, just say it. I can handle it. I’m a big girl.”

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