Diamonds Are Forever. Michelle Madow

what I wanted to tell you.” The seriousness in his voice made Peyton go still. “The job isn’t in Las Vegas. It’s in a town in upstate New York—Port Charles. They have some mob issues there and one of the guys in charge needs a new bodyguard for his kid. I’m taking the red-eye tonight.”

      The words felt like a stake through Peyton’s heart. “Adrian did this on purpose, didn’t he?” she said. “He got you a job far away to make sure we never see each other.”

      “Listen, Peyton.” He rubbed his hands over his head and blew out a long breath. “I have feelings for you. You know it’s true, because I told you that night at the Imperial Palace, and I would never lie to you about something so important.”

      “Really?” she asked. “Because when you dropped off the face of the planet, I thought you didn’t care anymore. I thought you never wanted to talk to me again.”

      “As I told you, I needed time to think,” he said. “And while I was home, I did a lot of thinking. I wanted to justify what had happened between us, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion—the way I let my guard down around you was unacceptable. My job was to protect you. Not to bring you to a bar so you could confide in me over a pitcher of beer.”

      “You listened when I needed someone to talk to,” she said, scooting closer to him. “You were the only person I trusted who was there for me. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

      “Besides the fact that until you turn eighteen, anything between us is illegal, what’s ‘wrong with that’ is that I was your bodyguard.” He set his jaw, sitting straighter. “Not your boyfriend.”

      “Well, you’re not my bodyguard anymore.” She hated how bitter she sounded, but there was no taking it back, so she might as well let it all out. “And even though I only have two months until my birthday, clearly you have no interest in being my boyfriend, either.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t ‘do’ long-­distance relationships. At least, that’s what you told Mike when you broke up with him.”

      “You’re comparing yourself to Mike?” Peyton laughed. “Mike and I had nothing in common except that we were attracted to each other, and he was a challenge because he hung out with a different group of friends than I did in Fairfield. But you get me on a deeper level. You saw the darkest parts of my life—the worst parts of me—and you didn’t hate me. I didn’t have to put on an act with you.”

      “But you were forced to let me in,” he said. “I read your file, and I watched you for months before you even knew I existed. I knew you before we exchanged a single word. And I know that if you try to let people in on your own, you’ll connect with them more than you thought you could.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “Plus, you said yourself that you like a challenge. That’s why you went for Mike, and for Oliver, and for that Australian teacher of yours.”

      “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Those guys don’t come close to comparing to you.”

      “But at the time, you thought you were truly interested in each one of them, right?”

      “I don’t know,” she mumbled, looking down at her hands. “It doesn’t matter, because it didn’t work out with any of them. They don’t matter. They never did.”

      “You say that, but I’m just as—if not more—off-limits than they ever were.” He checked his watch, and Peyton’s chest ached at the realization that he was leaving soon. “I held your interest for this long because I’ve told you no.”

      “You’re wrong,” she said. “But I don’t know how I can make you see it...especially since you won’t even add me on Facebook so we can keep in touch.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Out of everything we’ve talked about tonight, your biggest concern is Facebook?”

      “It’s a good way to keep in touch.” She shrugged. “If you want to.”

      He took out his phone and tapped on the screen a few times. “There,” he said, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “Friend request accepted.”

      “Thanks,” she said, although now she felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it. She rarely used Facebook. Her feelings for Jackson were turning her into a drama queen, and she hated it.

      “By the way, congrats on applying to UNLV,” he said.

      She jerked her head, surprised by the change of subject. “How do you know about that?”

      “Your dad mentioned it when we talked. I hope you get in.”

      “Whatever.” She huffed. “I’m done with school. I’m not going.”

      “I always did see you as more of a gap-year type,” he said, as if she should know what that meant. He studied her with so much intensity that her heart caught in her throat. The energy between them crackled, and she leaned forward, inviting him wordlessly to come join her on the bed. His eyes didn’t leave hers, and for a moment she thought that this was it. He was finally going to kiss her again.

      “I need to head out.” He stood up and shoved the chair under her desk, ending whatever she thought she’d felt between them. “I don’t want to miss my plane.”

      “Okay.” She heard herself say it, but she felt numb. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t think. All she could do was sit there while he said goodbye and walked away.

      The moment he left the condo, she locked her door, fell onto her bed, buried her face in her pillows and cried.

       chapter 8:

      Madison walked into the Diamond Residences after school, her iPhone held up to her ear. As expected, the call went to voice mail. When was Oliver going to stop avoiding her and talk to her? It had been weeks since the accident, and all she’d gotten were a few text messages saying he was doing fine and that he would let her know when he was ready to talk. But it was now the beginning of February, and she was losing hope. Why didn’t he want to see her? She was trying to be there for him, but she couldn’t do that if he didn’t let her in.

      She was heading to the elevators when she spotted Damien in the Grand Café. She hadn’t hung out with him one-on-one since the incident over the summer when she’d kissed him while drunk, but maybe he had a better idea of what was going on with Oliver. Despite her misgivings, she walked over to him.

      He had a plate of the happy-hour meatballs and was doing something on his phone. He put it down when he saw her. A year ago, they would have already greeted each other and slipped into easy conversation. Now, his dark eyes watched her suspiciously. She missed the friendship they used to have.

      “Hey.” She smiled and forced herself to sound upbeat. “Mind if I join you?”

      “Go ahead.” He motioned for her to take the seat across from him, and she did. “Feel free to have a meatball.”

      The scent of the marinara and basil made her mouth water, but she ordered a freshly made “Green Machine” juice instead. “So, what’s up?” she asked.

      “Just grabbing a snack before hitting up the gym.” He leaned back and studied her. “What about you?”

      This was officially the most stilted conversation she’d ever had with Damien. Luckily, her drink arrived, and she swirled her straw around, taking a sip. She pursed her lips at the bitterness of the green juice.

      Damien finally smiled. “Not a fan of green juice?”

      “I’m getting used to it,” she said. “According to the juice expert I follow online, pure green juice is the healthiest,