Page 22 of Sunshine

He scoffs and stalks toward the house.

Jason comes around the car and takes hold of my hand as we follow Wells through the front door. There are at least a dozen people in the kitchen, some of them holding cans of beer and some with red plastic cups. Liquor bottles are lined along the kitchen’s island along with various two-liters of sodas and gallons of juice. Wells sets his case of beer on the counter next to the kitchen sink and rips through the cardboard. Jason reaches in next and grabs two, stacking them together in one hand.

Wells frowns at him, but Jason doesn’t see it because he’s smiling at me.

He guides me through the crowd gathered in the kitchen to the back door, where other football players stand under a patio awning and next to an in-groundswimming pool.

The daylight bleeds into night as the sun hangs low on the horizon. The loud buzz of cicadas fills the air, sticky with a humidity that won’t quit. Jason’s group of friends celebrate when they see their quarterback. And I realize people are staring at him from all around the backyard . . . staring at himandme, like there’s some gravitational pull that snags everyone’s attention. I guess it makes sense, after last night’s game—it marked the beginning of his place among Mustang royalty. He lets go of my hand to high-five his friends, leaving me to stand a bit awkwardly behind him.

Some of the other players have girls on their arms, but I don’t recognize any of them. I’m relieved not to see Stassi anywhere. The group still eyes me up and down though, probably trying to figure out how a freshman like me ended up here with someone as bright and shiny as Jason. One of the girls—a redhead with curly hair and freckles dusting her face—gives me a warm smile, reaching a hand out. “Hi, I’m Haley.”

I wrap my hand around hers, giving her a light squeeze in thanks. “Layla,” I say back. “Nice to meet you.”

She comes to stand next to me, eyeing Jason. “You’re here with Jay?”

“Yeah,” I respond, looking at him too. He’s laughing with the guys as they recount a play from last night, his handsome face curled in delight. “We just started dating.”

She smiles wider. “Nice! I’m Matt’s girlfriend.” She nods toward the tall blond she was just standing next to. He’s the kicker from last night’s game. “We’ve been together since last year. Matt and Jason are pretty close—I bet we’ll be seeing much more of each other.”

I’m thrilled at Haley’s open kindness. “That sounds greatto me,” I say, my nose scrunched from my returning smile. “Do you play any sports?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not very athletic. My parents made me play soccer growing up, but I was terrible at it. You?”

I shrug. “I cheer. I actually cheer for Jason on the varsity squad.”

“Oh! That’s amazing! I swear, cheerleaders have, like, thebestbodies.”

I laugh, but then my eyes are back on Jason because he’s reaching for my face. His fingers slide up and across my cheeks, sending a wave of goosebumps down my neck. “Hey, are you good out here for a minute? I’m going to go get some beers for the guys.”

I nod, twisting back toward Haley with a smile. “Yeah! I’m good.” The guys around us follow Jason, and Haley and I are left to continue talking.

At some point, I notice Wells on the other side of the pool. He’s surrounded by a group of girls, and it’s obvious that they’re competing for his attention. He doesn’t seem fazed by it though, as he holds easy conversation with them all while sipping from a bottle of water.

Another girl—Megan—joins us, and I listen intently as they trade gossip like it’s candy. I try really hard to stay engaged in the conversation, but it’s honestly hard to keep up. I’m still getting my bearings on who’s who, and the way Haley and Megan talk about other people makes me feel like I’m in the middle of a pop quiz I didn’t study for.

The sun has fully disappeared, and Jason still hasn’t come back out of the house—it’s been at least a half hour since he went in there. I steal a glance across the pool to find that Wells has also disappeared. After Megan finishestelling a story about some girl who fully sat in a piece of chewed gum that someone had spit out in her chair—yikes—I politely excuse myself.

Inside, the music is turned up so loud I can’t hear my own thoughts, and there are way more people here than before. Most of the lights in the house have been turned off, the living room lit only by the glow of music videos that play on the big screen TV anchored to the wall. A beer pong table has been set up down a hallway, and I spot Jason standing next to Matt on the far side of it. Both of them are holding red plastic cups as they play against two guys I recognize as Brad and Ethan. I clock Stassi and Erin standing near them, surrounded by dozens of other girls who hang around the table.

Wells is standing behind Jason, and he looks frustrated.

I push through a few people and sidle up to Jason. It takes him a few minutes to realize I’m here, but the concentration in his brow loosens when he does. “Layla.” He kisses me on the cheek, his lips hot and wet against my skin. “Where have you been?”

I narrow my eyes. “Out back, where you left me.”

He slaps a hand on his forehead. “Shit, I’m sorry. Matty and I got roped into a game and we keep winning . . . you know how it goes.” He has the audacity to smirk at me.

A swell of irritation bubbles up my throat because Idon’tactually know how this goes. Jason is supposed to be my lifeline. He’s supposed to be hanging out withmehere, isn’t he? It’s obvious he’s drunk. I look around and realize that everyone is drunk.

Except for Wells, who’s looking back and forth between Jason and me with that frown marring his mouth.

“I want to go home,” I say when I turn back to Jason. But he doesn’t hear me, because Ethan just made the ball in a cupand everyone around us cheers. I watch as Jason picks up the cup, swiping the ball out of it with his finger before dropping it into the nearby water cup, chugging the contents of the one in his hand.

“Jesus,” Wells mutters. He shakes his head and leans in so I can hear him through all the noise. Or maybe it’s so that Jason doesn’t hearhim—I’m not sure—but either way he’s so close I can smell traces of leather on his skin. “Let him finish this game,” he says low, “because I don’t think I can tear him away otherwise. But then we’ll take you home. I promise.”

Concern rips through me, the trepidation from earlier coiling tighter. “Jason drove us. He can’t drive now.”

“I’ll drive.” My eyes drop to the water bottle in his hands before they rise to meet his. He gives me a tight, barely there smile, but his eyes are hard to read. “I haven’t had anything to drink. I figured this might happen.”

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