Page 14 of Sunshine

My own smile grows so wide that it’s almost uncomfortable, but I can’t help it—not when he’s looking at me like that. Like he’s been waiting all day to breathe me in. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

He pulls my bag off of my shoulder and slides it over his own before holding his hand out for me to take. “I was hoping you might want to come somewhere with me,” he says as he leads us toward the school parking lot.

“Oh yeah?” I laugh. “Where?” Football games start next week so it’s our last Friday of freedom for a while, but since our date last weekend the chemistry continues to burn bright between us. His attempts at photo editing have suffered from the distraction.

Everyone in class was issued a decent camera to hang on to for projects this year, and last weekend we were tasked with taking nature pictures around our houses. I spent most of Sunday afternoon trying to capture my mom’s flower garden—it was a sunny day, and the coral petals from her Texas Paintbrush were almost neon in the sunlight. In class, I carefully adjusted the saturation to make the colors brighter, the greenof the leaves so luminous they glowed from the computer screen.

Jason spent most of his editing time focused on me, and after turning in a dull and obscure photo of a football perched on an orange tee on his lawn, he’d been subjected to Mrs. Barajas's verbal feedback on his less-than-stellar processing choices.

He didn’t seem to mind.

I’m thrilled he wants to hang out with me again tonight.

“Wells is having a few people over at his place. Nothing crazy, but I want you to come so I can introduce everyone to my girl.” His smile grows, and I feel it tip right into my chest like a current.

Wells Bennett is an offensive tackle on the team. He was so good last year he became an instant starter—no other team was ever able to tackle Noah or Jason on the field with him planted there to guard them.

He’s Jason’s best friend, so I’m sure that helps motivate him to keep Jason safe. He also sits in front of me in math class, and every time I remember the way I crashed into him on the first day of school, I have to cool my cheeks with my fingers. That was before I knew who he was, but even now knowing, I still haven’t had a single interaction with him since. I’ve heard plenty of stories about the Bennett family, so I’ve been more than happy to keep clear of him.

“Um,” I say as we approach the parking lot. “Can I go home first? I need to shower and change.”

I don’t miss the way Jason sweeps his eyes over my body, lingering for a moment on my short black cheer shorts before he says, “Sure, can I pick you up in an hour? Is that enough time?”

“Yep,” I confirm, fiddling with my ponytail.And then a fit of bravery has me climbing onto my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. Dating is still so new to me, but I love this part . . . like my heart might swell right out of my chest. “An hour is perfect.”

He grins. “You want a ride home?”

“No thanks. My house is close and the walk helps me cool down after practice.”

Jason leans in to give me a kiss this time, but his lips linger just above mine like he wants more. I giggle and push him away. “Okay, okay,” he relents, handing me back my bag with a wink. “See you in an hour.” I watch as he walks toward his Mustang, still reveling in the fact thatI’mthe girl he’s interested in.

My walk home is quick, and I can smell something cooking as soon as I push through the door. I find my mom in the kitchen hovering over our cast-iron stove. “Hey, Mom!”

She whips around to face me, smiling brightly. “Hi, bug, how was cheer?”

“It was good—I landed a new round-off back handspring combination that I’ve been struggling with. We also started flying.”

She smiles wider—my mom knows how hard those kinds of moves are. She was Saddlebrook Falls’ varsity cheer captain in her day. “That’s my girl!” She sets down the wooden spoon in her hand and reaches to wrap me in a warm hug. “You know, you are growing into quite the beautiful and capable young lady, Layla.” She pulls away to look me in the eye, her hands wrapping around my shoulders. “I’m really proud of you. You keep all this up, and that handsome quarterback of yours is going to lock you down the second you graduate from school.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom,” I whine, “don’t make it weird. I’mnot going to marry someone at eighteen—this isn’t the nineteenth century, for crying out loud.”

A laugh spills out of her. “All I’m saying is that you’re really doing it, sweetheart. You made the varsity cheer team as a freshman, you’re dating the mayor’s son—I’m so thrilled to keep watching you shine.”

I know better than to show it, but disappointment flares inside of me. I wish it took a little more than that to make my mother proud. But I also know the vision she has for my future is merely the by-product of her own painful history.

My father skipped out as soon as he found out my mother was pregnant with me. He wasn’t from here, just a lone traveler passing through town as he made his way west. He was young and reckless, running from a life in the sticks toward something new on the California coast, but he spent almost a year in Saddlebrook Falls after he and my mom fell hopelessly in love the summer after she graduated.

In the end, when it came time to face the music, he’d left her high and dry. She didn’t have a job, never went to college, and was so sure that he’d take her with him to California—take her out of this town and to the sparkling coast. Instead, he forced her to rely on the help of her parents.

When I was six, she met Barry on a trip to Vegas with her girlfriends. I’d been dropped off with my grandparents for the weekend, and by Sunday night my mom returned home with a big ring on her finger and an unfamiliar man on her arm. It caused a bit of a ruckus around town, but Barry won everyone over with his charm and deep pockets. Mom quickly got pregnant again, and Annie was born. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure my mother’s marriage to Barry would be as tolerable. After she’d initially brought him home, I tried to negotiate livingwith my grandparents, but it wasn’t long before they high-tailed it to a retirement home in Florida.

I guess we weren’t their problem anymore.

“Speaking of which,” I segue, “Jason’s picking me up soon—I need to go shower.”

Her smile slumps. “You won’t be here for dinner? I’m making chicken and dumplings.”

I shake my head as I move toward the hallway. “I’m sure we’ll pick something up on the way. Thanks though!”

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