Page 34 of The Sun
She slapped at my thigh likesee, Sunny.“Damn. What’s it like to be loaded?”
He shook his head and parked behind a string of luxury SUVs.
The melody of Garth Brooke’s “Low Places” rang into the night sky when we climbed out.
On our way toward the side of the house, Ben wrapped his arm around Daisy’s waist. She glanced over at me, about to burst from excitement.
“So I’ve noticed, you and Daisy aren’t much alike.” Brandon laughed, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.
“I mean, in some ways. I’m definitely the cynic though.”
The second we rounded the house, the chorus to the infamous honky-tonk song hit, banjos twanging. The illuminated pool deck erupted with voices singing along while alcohol-induced woo-hoos intermittently drowned out the lyrics.
I had been to plenty of parties, but parties at Robertsdale where usually in the middle of some field or in a backyard littered with garden gnomes and plastic flamingos. This party—with its guest toll close to one-hundred, five kegs set up in front of the DJ table, and pristine, white lounge chairs that looked like they belonged to the Hilton, all sat behind a house that was bigger than the church—could have easily passed as the background to an MTV music video.
Daisy spun around like the girl fromThe Sound of Musicto take in the lavish surroundings. “This is insane.”
Ben slapped Brandon on the back so hard Brandon stumbled forward a step. “I’m going to get a beer. Want one?”
“Nah. DD.” Brandon flashed his keys. “Remember?”
“Mr. Responsible.” Ben grabbed Daisy, dragging her behind him. And then I was alone with Brandon.
I kept wringing my hands, uncertain where to put them. I swayed in time with the beat of the music while taking inventory of the faces, few of whom I recognized.
“So.” Brandon’s hands were in his pockets again.
For the first time since he had started at our school freshman year, he seemed uneasy. The air of confidence that usually radiated from him had dulled. If I didn’t know him, I would never have pegged him for the popular jock all the girls fantasized about.
“So?” I echoed.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and tapped his foot against a cooler. “You want a drink?”
“I’m fine.”
He took my hand, awkwardly attempting to thread his fingers through mine as he maneuvered me across the pool deck covered with dancing party goers. A random drunk wobbled in front of us before losing his footing and nearly crashing into me.
Brandon shoved him out of the way, telling him to watch out forhis girlthen he placed his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to his side like he needed to protect me.
Daisy was right. Brandon was nice, and for a moment, I wondered why I had been so opposed to a date with him in the first place. This was fine. Actually, it was almost more than fine.
We stopped at the edge of the patio that overlooked the bay. I leaned against the railing, and Brandon moved beside me, elbows on the banister, chin slightly tucked while he crossed one jean-clad leg in front of the other.
That careless stance was something a lot of girls would call effortlessly masculine, but to me, it just looked like he was trying too hard. Sometimes I wished I wasn’t as jaded as I was.
“So, Sunny. What are you about?”
I arched a brow. “About?”
“Yeah. Like, what’s important to you?”
I wasn’t prepared for such a deep, probing question, especially not from a jock. Suddenly, I felt guilty for judging him. For doing exactly what all those kids I hated did. “I mean,” I rubbed my hand over my arm. “Family. Friends. Stuff like that.”
“For some reason, I think there’s a lot more to you than that, Sunny Lower.” With a smirk, he moved in front of me, trapping me between him and the railing. His hand swept along my jaw. Naturally, I leaned into the soft touch. The affection.
“You’re really pretty,” he said.
“Thanks.”
