Page 85 of Sunshine

“Hell yeah!” Jason shouts, making me jump. Wells laughs and shifts the truck into drive.

It takes less than an hour to get to the wide-open bay, even less time to get our camp set up. I’m relieved to see two tents have made the trip, smoothing over some of the nerves still dancing in my chest.

For the most part, things feel like they were four years ago, when my world revolved around time spent with Jason and Wells. Jason seems relaxed and happy, and I can’t help laughing at Wells’s boy-like excitement at building a fire with nothing but his hands and any natural tools he finds in the tree-lined land just beyond the sand. Of course, he’s able to get a fire roaring with no problem, and Jason pulls out packages of hot dogs to roast.

All things considered, the evening starts without a hitch.Jason and Wells share stories from college and I find myself lost in them, leaning into each one with an eagerness that’s bloomed from how much I’ve missed them. How much I’ve missedthis. They pass a bottle of whiskey back and forth as they banter, and I’m not sure when it happens but at some point, I become part of the passing order, taking pulls from the bottle and letting the warmth of it sink deep in my belly.

The air is brisk tonight, and Jason covers me beneath a heavy blanket. But between our laughter and the whiskey, there’s a contentment in my bones that the chill in the air couldn’t possibly touch.

It’s not until later, well after the sun has set and the crickets have started to chirp, well after I’ve gone from tipsy to drunk, that things begin to feel dangerous again.

What starts as an innocent drinking game of Never Have I Ever sours when Jason realizes that I’ve been living out my own college experience at NYU. When I take a swig of whiskey for having done a keg stand, he looks at me with confusion marring his otherwise happy expression. When I take another one for the time Chantal and I stripped naked with Leslie and Danielle and jumped in the Hudson River on a dare from Chantal’s boyfriend (whowasn’tpresent for the event itself), Jason’s face twists into an unexpected anger that knocks me back.

“What the fuck, Layla?” His blue eyes darken, hazy in the way they narrow on me.

Adrenaline shoots through me at the sheer venom in his tone—I know he’s been drinking a lot more than I have, and he’s always been a little unpredictable when he’s drunk. “What?” I ask gently. “It was with the girls—no one else was out there.”

Wells straightens in his chair on the other side of Jason, who scoffs and shakes his head. “All right,” he says after a beat. “You want to be some sort of bad girl?” He shoves the bottle of whiskey toward me. “Go ahead. Drink.”

“Jay,” Wells starts. But Jason ignores him. He just stares at me with a hard look, the bottle held out on the end of his long arm.

I know what he’s doing—even through my buzz, I can see his insecurities on display. Our relationship has been long-distance for two and a half years now, and it hasn’t been easy. But I’ve never given him a reason not to trust me, and I have every right to live my life in New York just like he’s living his in Texas.

So I take the bottle from his hands. And I take a drink.

“Layla,” Wells says, his tone careful.

This time, Jason turns to face him. “Leave her alone.”

Wells’s eyes flare. “She’s had a lot to drink.”

“So?” Jason retorts, his anger brewing. “Didn’t you hear? She does whatever she wants.”

I scoff. “Come on, Jason. That’s unfair.”

He sits back in his chair, turning his hard expression toward the dwindling fire.

My heart lurches and my mind spins—how did we go from laughing tothisin a matter of minutes? I slide my gaze to Wells and find him thrumming with his own anger, and my stomach flips.

And then it flips again—and I realize I’m going to be sick.

I shoot out of my chair, knocking it over in the sand. Both Jason and Wells turn to look at me, wide-eyed, as I bolt for the ocean.

“Layla!” Jason shouts, but I ignore him. My stomach twists with a cramp, and my throat burns with acid.

I wonder if tomorrow, I’ll remember the sensation of the freezing sea lapping against my shins, my body hunched over as waves of nausea rolled through me. And how, for a fleeting moment as my stomach emptied into the foamy water, I imagined the tide taking me with it.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

NOW

Ispend the next few days at home, avoiding my mother as much as possible without giving Annie a reason to worry. It would seem I’m also avoiding Wells, because I haven’t responded to the text he sent yesterday asking me how I’m feeling. I wasn’t sure if he’d meant after our dinner at June’s or the conversation we shared in the pasture. Either way, I don’t know what to say about any of it.

Still, he’s all I think about: in the early mornings as the sun heats up the sky; in the afternoons, when the cold winter air smells of earth and pine, wrapping around me as I walk through our neighborhood with Annie; at dusk, when the shadows of the fleeting sun whisper sweet nothings and beckon me in. For nearly six years, I was more than content with his place in my life. But now . . . it was so foolish to think that’s where he’d stay.

My flight back to New York is in two days, and my anxiety about leaving grows with every passing minute. I know I needto be there, that the distance and space will be good for me as I process through both my grief and my budding feelings for Wells. School will be the perfect distraction. So will Chantal and my other friends. But despite all of that, I don’t feel ready to go. So much of my life feels up in the air, and none of the pieces show any signs of coming back down.

I know I can’t avoid Wells forever. We need to have an honest talk about everything that’s happened and what it means for the future, and we’re losing precious time. So I take a chance and ask Barry if I can borrow his old Lexus—the one that’s been sitting in the garage, mostly untouched. I have a hunch he’s saving it for Annie and likely won’t say it because of what that means for me, but right now I don’t care—I just know I can’t ask my mom for her car after our fight.

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