Page 187 of Like a Power Play
There, standing in the wooden frame, is Peyton. She’s got Mr. Bubbles beside her, saddled in his green “therapy dog” vest. In her arms, she’s carrying a wicker basket the size of him. And suddenly, it all floods back.
The Sabertooths. The words “I love you”. The Narnia reference.
Oh my god.
You know they’re only in love in the movie?
Really?
To be fair, there’s no official guidebook on how to respond to sudden love confessions. Though, I’d assume the correct thing to do if the feelings are reciprocated would be to say it back. Or kiss her. Or do anything other than point out the discrepancies between movie adaptations and the original literature, thenpass out.
But I panicked. I didn’t know what to say. The second she looked at me, I realized I was done for. Telling myself I couldn’t trust her was like telling a fish not to swim. Telling myself not to love her was like telling myself not to breathe.
I like having options. Different books for different moods, new dinners every night.
But loving her? I had no say in that. And for the first time, I don’t want one.
Peyton makes me feel like I can do anything. The anger, the grief, they don’t disappear. Some days they’re stronger than others. But even more, I have hope. I have drive, and passion. And that’s something I never thought I’d get back.
But I don’t just love Peyton for how she makes me feel.
I love her for who she is.
I love that she remembers the details about people. That she shows up for the ones who have no one. That she abducted a neglected puppy on the sidewalk, and that she took a punch to protect the most vulnerable member of the team. That she dances and sings to music, no matter who is watching, and paints her body green for Halloween. I love that she texts her brother twice a day, even though he rarely responds, and I love that she knew exactly how to get me back onto the ice after only knowing me for a few weeks.
I love every fucking thing about her.
And I said“You know they’re only in love in the movie?”
Only a second after our eyes lock, everyone else in the room realizes she’s here. Not because of the usual cheering that erupts around her, but because the whole room falls silent.
Except for Bailey.
“Dude, what the frick?” she blurts, turning toward Caydence. “You can’t just stop in the middle of a—”
Caydence elbows her in the ribs, enticing a scowl out of her. Then she nods toward Peyton and me with a pointed glance.
“Welp,” Harlowe announces, pulling herself to her feet and clapping her hands once. “I’m hungry. Who’s coming?”
Bailey squints. “But we literallyjust—”
“Dude,” Zayda cuts in, tone dry.
Bailey sighs as Harlowe loops an arm through hers and starts ushering her toward the door.
“Come on, Princess,” Harlowe urges, tugging Bailey past my bed. As she gets close, she leans in and mutters, “Pro tip: don’t roll on top of your tubes. If they kink, it sends an emergency signal to the nurse and stirs up all kinds of shit.”
Slightly thrown by the oddly specific piece of advice, I manage a quiet, “Thanks,” as she herds Bailey toward the door.
The rest of the team trickles out behind them, tossing waves and salutes in my direction, a few of them bumping Peyton’s fist or ruffling Mister’s head on their way out. Once the door clicks shut behind the last one, Peyton turns to me with a concerned smile.
“Are you okay?” she asks, worry evident in her tone.
I theatrically gesture to the tubes connected to me. “What, these old things?” I swish a dismissive hand. “Please. It’s a cakewalk compared to dealing with you.”
Peyton flashes me a sarcastic smile, scrunching that perfect button nose as she steps closer. She drops the basket to the floor beside my bed and collapses into the chair.
“I should’ve let you hit the ground,” she jokes. “Teach you some gratitude.”
