Page 50 of Sunshine

He doesn’t have an opportunity to finish his sentence because in the span of mere seconds, I’ve gone from irritated to viciously nauseous. I jackknife at the waist with a low groan, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m puking in the bush next to me.

Regan gasps as Lizzie lets out a whiney “Ewwwww.” But I can hardly get a breath down before I heave again.

“Oh shit, is she okay?” I hear Connor ask.

“I’ve got it,” Wells mutters as he pulls my hair back with light fingers.

“Dude, she can’t puke in my backyard.”

“I said I’vegotit,” Wells growls.

Connor sighs and walks away, mumbling something about getting the hose. “Shit,” Regan says from behind me. “I’ll text David, he’s supposed to get here soon. I’ll ask if he can take us home.”

“How did you two get here?” Wells asks, voice heated with frustration.

“We walked from my house,” Regan explains shyly. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

I wretch again, the vile liquid spilling out of my mouth. It burns just as much on the way up as it did on the way down, and I have to cough through the fire.

“I’ll take her home,” Wells announces, his fingers cool as they smooth along my temple. “Brad, can you go find some water for her, please?”

“On it,” Brad replies.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. I never imagined the night ending with Wells hunched around me as I threw up in a hydrangea bush. I try to focus on individual leaves to stop the ground from spinning, but it only makes me dizzier. He doesn’t respond, but his fingers continue to dance on my skin, and I give myself over to the relief it brings.

“Here,” I hear Brad say a few minutes later.Thank god, he must have found water.

“Thanks,” Wells says. “Okay Layla, can you make it out front to my truck?”

I nod and climb up to my feet, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Shame curls tightly in my throat—this issoembarrassing. Wells keeps his hand on my shoulder, a soft pressure encouraging me forward. I turn to Regan, who looks a little awestruck. “I’m sorry,” I say again as a tear escapes down my cheek. I really hope I didn’t ruin her night, too.

She shakes her head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Just get some sleep, and I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree.

Wells’s truckis parked a couple of houses down along the curb, and when we reach it, he straightens me so I’m facing him. He scans my face, and that heaviness washes over me again for putting him in this position.

“How’s the stomach?” he asks tentatively, twisting the top off the bottle of water and handing it to me.

“Um.” I take a long drink. “Not great, but I think I’m okay right now.”

“Okay enough for you to make it through the drive to your house?”

I nod, and he pulls open the passenger-side door. I climb onto the worn seat and he reaches to buckle me in. “Why are you doing this?” I ask as he pulls the lap belt over my waist.

His gaze jumps to meet mine. “Doing what?”

“Helping me,” I say.

His eyes bounce back and forth between mine, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, he pulls himself out of the truck and shuts the door between us.

Okay . . . so much for that.

When he gets in on his side, I keep my focus on a mailbox outside my window. It’s wooden, carved in the shape of a bird, and it makes me wish I could fly away from here. That I could escape this night, escape this week and this town and everyone in it.

Connor liveson the other side of town from me, but Wells makes quick work of navigating us to my house.It’s ten o’clock, which means my mom and Barry have probably gone upstairs into their room for the night. Annie’s bedtime is eight, so I’m hoping I can quietly sneak in without anybody noticing me.

This is exactly why I always say no to drinking: I know my mom will have my head if she finds out. And I don’t blame her. I’ve had a few sips here and there out of curiosity, but not enough to ever feel anything. I still don’t feel like I’m ready, and spending the last year hanging out with upperclassmen doesn’t mean that feeling just goes away.

---