Page 70 of Catch the Sun

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It’s a short ride back to the house where we make a pit stop to drop me and Ella off before the kegger. I’m smooshed in the back seat of the truck between Libby and Ella, while Brynn sits up front with McKay and details every second of the last few hours. She’s driving, since McKay was drinking and also because it’s been her “biggest dream in life” to finally drive our junky truck.

The enthusiastic pitch of her voice fades out because I’m too aware of my body pressed to Ella’s on my left. Arms flushed, thighs smashed together, herbare knee knocking with mine every time the tires skim over a pothole. Long hair tickling my shoulder, the scent of it overpowering the smell of stale cigarette smoke and old leather interior.

Her hands are fisted tightly in her lap as her giant purse rests between her feet, and I catch the way she glances up at me every now and then in my periphery. The evening’s adrenaline has dampened, turning her quiet, and it’s been a valiant effort to keep my palms clasped around my kneecaps. All I want to do is reach for her hand and lace our fingers together, which is borderline concerning. I don’t know why I want to do that.

When we pull into the driveway, Ella shuffles out of the truck first, her heels crunching atop gravel. “Thanks for the ride,” she says, already motioning to take off across the street. “See you guys on Monday.”

I slide out behind her, offering the group a hurried goodbye, then slam the door shut and chase after Ella, who is halfway to her house. “Hey, wait up.” The truck pulls out of the driveway and guns it down the quiet street until all I hear are high heels clapping along the pavement and singing cicadas. “Ella.”

She falters, glancing over her shoulder at me. “What’s up?”

“You’re running away.”

“I’m not running. I just thought…” She slows her feet, glancing at my house across the road, then back at me. “I thought the night was over.”

My eyes pan skyward. The moon hangs high, a silver glow in a stretch of black, and the stars are twinkling and bright. The dance might be over, but the night isn’t. “Let’s go to the bluffs.”

This brings her to a full stop. Ella pivots to fully face me, the breeze stealing a few pieces of her hair and tossing them across her face. “The bluffs?”

“Yeah. I promised you stargazing and it’s the perfect night for it.”

She blinks. “Stargazing.”

“Why not?”

“I’m…” Squeezing the strap of her purse, she peers down at her dress and high heels. “Well, look at me. I’d love nothing more than for this dress to be stripped off of me and discarded on my bedroom floor.”

Her eyes pop.

My throat works as a flickering of heat zips across my chest.

“Yikes.” She forces out a laugh and looks away. “That came out remarkably suggestive. And now I’m mortified.”

I school my brain to conjure up less indecent thoughts because friends don’t picture friends naked. That would be rude and inappropriate.

When I don’t respond because my brain is being rude and inappropriate despite my redirection attempts, Ella clears her throat and steps toward me. “You know what? It’s fine. We can be fancy for the stars tonight. This will be the only time I wear this dress, so I might as well make it last.”

Elation trickles through me. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Let’s do it.”

A smile tugs at my lips when I think about spending more time with her. Just us, one on one. I can’t even remember when I preferred the company of another person over my own solitude, but it’s been years. McKay used to be that person. “Great,” I say, trying not to sound too eager. “I’m going to check on my dad real quick and grab a blanket. Do you mind waiting out here?”

Her gaze drifts to my house across the street, settling on the side window where a yellowy light glows from behind the makeshift curtains. She looks at me, blinks. “No problem. I’ll change my shoes.”

I can tell she wants to join me, but that’s out of the question. We’re finally making progress in the friendship department, and the last thing I want to do is scare her away when she fully comprehends the disaster that lies on the other side of that piss-poor siding.

Sending her a quick nod, I jog toward my house and slip in through the front door. My father took sleeping pills before the dance, so he’s probably passed out cold. I grab an old quilt off the back of the sofa before calling out to him. “Dad?”

To my surprise, he answers. “In here, son.”

When I reach his bedroom, I spot him sitting up in bed with a book in his lap. “Hey,” I say. “Thought you were sleeping.”

“I was.” He stares off into nothing before glancing my way. His cloudy eyes defog as he gives me a brief once-over. “You look handsome, Maxwell.”

“Thanks. The Fall Fling dance was tonight.”

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