Chapter 7

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PEYTON'S POV

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Showering in someone else's shower is always weird, but showering in someone's shower that you thoroughly dislike - that's even weirder. Her bathroom was so...neat. All of her products were lined up neatly on the shower shelf. Her towels were hung neatly on the towel rack. Her mirror was clear of water and toothpaste splatter. The shower tiles were pristine clean, not a single stray hair or dollop of spilt product in sight. She even had a candle and a vase on the windowsill, containing a single white orchid. Classic Zara.

I used her shower products, placing them haphazardly back on the shelf. The scent of coconut and vanilla filled my nostrils as I scrubbed the body wash over my skin and let the conditioner soak through my hair. It smelt divine; totally different to the products I used at home. I closed my eyes and let the hot water run over my body, revelling in the familiar smell. Familiar...

I snapped my eyes open, cursing as the conditioner ran into my eyes. I rinsed it out as best as I could. I smelt like her. Like Zara! I couldn't believe that I had just openly admitted, albeit to myself, that Zara smelt divine. I shook the thought from my head - just because the girl smelt nice...and had a great body...and a beautiful face, that didn't mean I don't still dislike her. Like I said, she is everything I aspire not to be.

I grabbed one of the towels and wrapped it around my body, taking another and drying my hair with it as best as I could. I wasn't the type to twist my towel up onto my head to let my hair dry, because in all seriousness...does that actually work? I dropped both towels on the floor and pulled out a change of underwear from my gym bag, then changing into the clothes that Zara had given me. They smelt like her too. Ugh.

I took my cologne and deodorant from my bag and sprayed myself incessantly, trying to drown out the smell of her. It worked, sort of. The entire bathroom now smelt like Rexona's 'sport fresh' and Calvin Klein's 'one summer', with a hint of her. When I was finally satisfied with the smell, I trudged out of the bathroom and downstairs once again, the overpowering smell of my cologne and deodorant suddenly replaced by the smell of food. It wasn't until then that I realised just how hungry I was. Seeing Zara sitting silently at the dining room table, I became suddenly aware at how awful I must've looked, my hair a complete birds nest having been tousled by the towel.

"Do you have a comb?" I asked from the foot of the stairs.

My presence must've shocked her, as she jumped slightly and her misted gaze suddenly snapped towards me. Her eyes dropped towards my chest and I had half a mind to ask her what exactly she was staring at before I realise it wasn't my chest she was staring at, but the shirt.

"Sorry?" she spoke, her voice cracking slightly. I crossed my arms across my body, hiding as much of the shirt as I could.

"A comb. Do you have one?"

"Oh," she nodded, "there should be one in the top drawer of the bathroom cabinet."

She quickly stood up from the table and rushed into the kitchen, her absence quickly followed by clanging of pots and pans. I climbed the stairs and located the comb, finding it exactly where she told me it would be - and of course, it just had to be bright pink. After untangling the mess that was my hair, I twisted it into a bun on top of my head and went back downstairs, finding Zara placing two plates down on the dining room table. She saw me walking into the dining room but paid me no attention, disappearing again into the kitchen and returning with two glasses of water.

"I made us some dinner..." she said awkwardly, gesturing towards the plates. "We had some spaghetti and pasta sauce in the pantry, and mince in the freezer, so I figured I'd use it to make spaghetti bolognese, if...if that's okay."

Her eyes flickered between the plates and me, watching nervously for my reaction. I wondered why on earth she was acting so anxious, it was her house after all.

"Yeah, that's fine," I nodded slowly, "I mean...thanks."

She bit her lip and nodded, sitting down in front of one of the plates. She looked at me nervously, expectantly almost...and I made my way to the table and sat down opposite her, pulling my plate towards me. I was so hungry, immediately digging into the pasta and having to stifle a satisfied moan. It was delicious, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that — I didn't want her to get a big head. We ate in an awkward silence, the only sounds being the clanking of our utensils on the plates and Dennis whining in the corner, drooling at the smell of our food. We both finished together, and she wordlessly took my empty plate and glass from me and put them in the sink.

"C'mere, Dennis! Dinner time!" I heard her call, and Dennis suddenly came barreling through the dining room at full speed.

After eating such a good meal I was ready to lie down. The day had been long and exhausting; physically, mentally, and emotionally. The faster I slept, the faster I could be free of Zara. It suddenly dawned on me that she and I hadn't discussed sleeping arrangements. I assumed this house had at least two bedrooms, but wasn't sure if she would want me sleep in her mother's room or not. I thought about sleeping on the couch, but I'll be damned if I have to squash underneath Dennis again.

"Uh...McMann?" I called out.

She reappeared from the kitchen, eyeing me nervously. Why was this girl so goddamn nervous?

"Hmm?"

"Where will I sleep?" I questioned.

It looked like the thought hadn't occurred to her either, and she stopped in her tracks.

"Um...well, we have a spare room upstairs but it's got a lot of...stuff in it," she said slowly.

She walked towards the stairs, and I knew I was supposed to follow her. I grabbed my bag from the couch and walked behind her all the way up the staircase, not being able to help the fact that I was shamelessly checking out her ass. Like I said, I don't have to like the girl to appreciate her good body. Luckily she didn't catch me this time. She opened the second door on the left side of the hallway and led me into a room. It had a queen size bed in the centre, surrounded by multiple cardboard boxes and the occasional tattered blanket or discarded photo.

"What's all this?" I asked, not that I cared. I didn't really care much for anything about Zara to be honest.

"It's my dads things," she said quietly.

Oh.

I stayed silent. I had no idea what to say. Here I was, with Zara McMann, standing in a room with her dead dads belongings. What do you say to that?

"If you're uncomfortable sleeping in here you can take my room. I'll sleep in here, or my mums room. I don't mind," she rambled, quickly heading towards the doorway to leave the room.

"No, it's okay," I told her, placing my bag on the bed. "This is fine."

She bit her lip again — I wish she'd stop doing that, and nodded slowly. Her blue eyes glistened slightly, and I hoped to God that she wouldn't start crying on me. I couldn't handle cryers. I don't do emotion of any kind, even too much happiness is uncomfortable for me. I checked my phone to avoid her gaze. It was almost 9:00pm, I had twenty eight texts from my group chat with the boys, and my battery was on twelve percent.

"Do you have a spare phone charger?" I asked her, and she jumped at my sudden question.

"For an iPhone?" she replied.

"Yeah."

"I'll check my mums room," she turned in her heel and left the room, and I took my time to take in my surroundings.

I was surrounded by boxes, some taped shut while others had been opened, contents strewn around the room. My gaze fell onto a framed photograph on the floor and I bent down to pick it up. There sat a young Zara, held lovingly in the arms of who I could only assume was her father. They both looked so happy - happier than I had ever been with my dad. I heard Zara's footsteps approaching and quickly returned the frame to where it sat collecting dust on the carpeted floor. I sat down on the bed, hoping to give the illusion that I had been there all along. She emerged in the doorway, silently handing me the phone charger. I nodded my thanks and she walked back out of the room, pausing to turn and look at me.

"Dennis likes to sleep in here sometimes," she said abruptly. "I think the smell comforts him. But if you don't want him in here you can just close the door."

I nodded.

"There's extra blankets and pillows in the linen closet if you need them."

I nodded again. She turned to leave.

"McMann," I found myself calling before I could stop myself.

She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue talking.

"Uh...cheers for, uh, dinner and stuff," I said pathetically.

She gave me a half smile, almost as if she could sense how pathetic I felt.

"Goodnight, Peyton," she said, before disappearing down the hall.

It took me hours to fall asleep that night. Zara was right, Dennis did come into the room. He jumped onto the bed and lay at my feet, curled up into a ball. It was oddly comforting, and I enjoyed his company. I texted the boys, telling them that despite being stuck with Zara McMann, I was all good. They knew I didn't like her, pretty much everyone did, but they didn't know what sparked my dislike for her. No one knew that I despised the girl for taking away my undefeated title. No one knew what I had to endure at home that night because of her. No one knew that my parents punished me if I didn't come out on top in everything; class, sports, friendship groups. They never physically abused me, but they made me feel as if I was worthless. If I wasn't coming first, I wasn't worth their time. Every night I fell asleep feeling anxious of what the next day would bring. Tonight was different. Tonight was the first night that, despite being in lockdown with Zara McMann, despite being in the middle of a pandemic, despite everything that was going on in the world, I fell asleep peacefully, not worried about what tomorrow would bring.

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AUTHORS NOTE
I hope you all enjoy this chapter. This story is slow to start, but if you stick with it I promise you won't be disappointed. Thank you all for your support — I love reading your comments!

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