Page 21 of Sunshine

Wells jumps into the back seat, sitting behind me. As Jason rounds the car to get in on the other side, I turn to look at Wells. “Do you have enough room back there?”

He shoots me a look that I’m not able to read. “Yeah.”

Jason gets in and starts the ignition. “Wells, do you think they have enough beer?”

“Probably not.”

I turn my focus to Jason. “Am I going to have to drive you home tonight?”

He flashes me a bright smile. “Maybe.”

I laugh because we both know I don’t have my license yet, but there’s a slight trepidation that coils in my stomach. I don’t want to show it, though—the last thing I want to do is prove my own naiveté.

My gaze moves back to the road in front of us and I feel it as soon as Jason presses on the gas, like a zipper up my spine. This moment in time. The anticipation of what’s to come on this early fall night as I toe the line between childhood and . . . whatever comes next. Like going to a high school party on the arm of a gorgeous, older guy.

It’s a moment ofrightness. It feels a lot like fate.

“We can go to that convenience store between here and Williamson County,” Wells mumbles from behind me.

“They have beer?” Jason asks.

“Yeah.”

“Do you still have Rhett’s ID?” Jason looks at his best friend in the rearview, and my mind traces down the line of Bennett brothers. Rhett is the middle one. The wildest one. Story goes he’s the one who burned down the old gazebo on Main a few years ago. No one’s ever been able to officially prove anything, but town gossip places Rhett in a drunken rage torching the place after a girl stood him up. Folks from around town came together to rebuild it, and the surrounding grass eventually grew back, but no one forgets something like that here. An open skeleton in this family’s closet.

“Yeah,” Wells repeats.Again.

“You don’t say much,” I mutter as Jason pulls onto the state road that leads to Williamson County. Jason looks at mefrom behind the steering wheel, but I keep my focus on the view out my window for the short drive past the edge of town. Maybe it was an odd thing to say out loud, but it’s true. Wells doesn’t seem to ever do anything more than what’s required.

We pull into the convenience store and Wells pushes through the door in the back. I watch as he pulls open the wooden door and slips inside the store.

“Be nice, Layla,” Jason warns quietly.

I finally brave a look back at him and am thrown by the disapproval in his eyes. “I am! I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. He’s just kind of quiet.”

He presses his lips together. “Just be nice, okay?” He reaches out to grab my hand, winding his fingers between mine.

I lean my head back on the headrest. “You really love him, don’t you?”

His brow arches. “He’s my best friend. We’ve been through a lot.”

I sigh. “I promise to be nice.”

Jason squeezes my hand and smiles. “Thank you.”

The front door to the store pushes back open a few minutes later, and Wells reemerges with a case of beer in his hands. Something about the way he holds the case, the way his forearms flex with the effort of it, makes him look older. I can picture him as a man: suntanned skin and strong arms from years of football and horse training, his tall build and wide frame driving through the world with the force of a monsoon storm.

“Hell yeah, he got some!” Jason laughs next to me. He lets go of my hand as Wells slides back in. “Any trouble?” Jason asks.

Wells shakes his head. “Nah—no one knows us out here.”

Jason whistles. “It’s a sign, my friend. Tonight is going to be a good one.”

As soon aswe pull up to Margot’s house I climb out of the car, suddenly nervous, rubbing my hands along the cotton of my dress to brush out any wrinkles. I look down at myself, and realize how dirty my white Converse look from all the dust at Bennett Ranch.

“You look fine,” Wells mutters from behind me. I turn to look at him, watching as he pulls the case of beer out of the back seat and uses his knee to shut the door while he keeps his eyes on mine.

“I know I do,” I say back, perplexed at his assessment.

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