Page 20 of The Sweet Spot

Wren.

I look back to find her and Saira still standing over by the photo booth, terrified. Saira’s phone is in her trembling hands.

“Do—do you want me to call the cops or something?” she stammers.

“No.” I shake my head, rushing over to them. “We’ll get busted for drinking—and fighting.”

Logan appears beside me, clamping his arm down on my shoulder. “Gotta go, bro. Cops are coming.”

Sure enough, the distant wail of approaching sirens pierces the air.

“Shit.” Scrubbing my hand over my face, I look down at Wren. “I gotta go.”

“Go,” she urges, giving me a quick hug. “Come back and find me sometime.” She gives me one photo strip and pockets the other and then I’m gone, pulling Matt through the crowd of onlookers, trying desperately to disappear before the cops show up.

“What the fuck, Matt?” I grumble as we squeeze out of the nearest exit.

“Wasn’t me, not this time,” he says, looking both ways as we cross the busy street.

“It wasn’t,” Kellan says, hurrying alongside as Logan leads the charge. “Dude in the black shirt bumped Matt first.”

It doesn’t matter who started the fight. Matt turns twenty-one in a couple of days, but he’s still underaged. We all are. Plus, he’s gotten in trouble for fighting before.

Red and blue lights pull up to the other end of the boardwalk. We slink quickly through the parking lot, where Logan uses the fob to find his car.

“Hey, did you get Saira’s number?” I ask Kellan, turning to look at him as Logan eases out of the parking lot.

“Nope.” He looks at me, his eyes searching mine in the dark. “You get Wren’s?”

I turn back around with a heavy sigh, shaking my head. “No.”

Matt reaches forward, squeezing my shoulder. “Sorry, bro.”

Wren

Nothing like a fistfight to ruin a perfectly good evening.

Soon after the boys disappear Saira and I head toward the exit in unspoken agreement. Time to get the hell out of dodge.

“I’m still shaking,” Saira mutters, rubbing her arms as we approach the gate.

“Me too.” I slide my arm through hers, keeping her close. “Everything happened so quickly.”

“Do you think they got out of here okay?”

“I don’t know.” I glance around as we step out onto the sidewalk. The hour is later than I realized, but the boardwalk is still crazy-busy, which is typical for this time of year. There are three cop cars parked along the curb in front of the other entrance, lights flashing silently. “I’m pretty sure they left from this side, so I hope so.”

A car stops to let us go, and Saira tugs me over the crosswalk. “Sleepover?”

“Definitely. Although, I’m not sure how much I’ll actually sleep.”

She hums in agreement. “My house or yours?”

“Yours. I’m sick of my house,” I gripe. “I’ve been looking at it every day and every night all summer.”

“All right, all right.” Saira swings our hands. “I’ll follow you home so you can get your stuff and then we’ll go back to my place. Mom must’ve really missed me because she made dhal puriandroti for dinner.”

“And you honestly thought I’d pick my place over yours?” I ask dryly.

---