Page 61 of Catch the Sun

“Why Michigan?” I wonder.

“I don’t really know. I’ve just always wanted to live there,” she says. “It feels like the home I’ve never had. There’s this nostalgia about it, like I’m imagining memories that don’t exist. Strange, huh?” Her eyes glimmer in the pink twinkle lights. “I want to kayak in the summer and build snowmen in the winter. Live off the land. Ride horses and catch rainbow trout. And on the night of my twenty-first birthday, I want to go to Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park and try to see the northern lights. It’s a big dream of mine, and that park is supposed to be one of the best places to view them in the whole United States.”

I wonder if she realizes she’s smiling, a purely authentic tip to her lips as dreams and wishes unfurl behind her eyes. “When’s your birthday?” I ask.

“November twentieth.” Ella leans back, surveying her handiwork with an air of triumph. “There. All set.”

My fingers rise to skim along the bandaged wound. I feel my own smile lifting as that pocket of peace swells and simmers, creating something almost palpable between us. A friendship in motion.

A dance.

Rhythm.

Our gazes tangle as I touch along the edges of the gauze. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She clears her throat and stands, swiping her hands along her cotton shorts. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No way.”

“Don’t go all lionhearted on me. You have a hole in your head. Take the comfy mattress.” As she moves toward her queen-sized bed and throws back the covers, she falters. Then she spins around to face me. “Wait. You shouldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”

Damn.

Exhaustion bubbles to the surface as I stare at her fluffy blankets and collection of ten thousand pillows. “I’ll be fine.”

“No. I’ll keep you awake.” Her cheeks puff as she blows out a breath. “Let me find a shirt for you to wear. I still have a box of Jonah’s clothes in my closet… I couldn’t bear to part with some of his favorite T-shirts and hoodies.” She turnsto the closet. “They probably smell like a moldy attic, so that should keep you from getting too comfortable. Unless…” Faltering, she swivels back around. “Is it weird wearing his stuff?”

“No. It’s fine.”

This seems to appease her, and she steps into the closet.

While Ella rummages through boxes, I pull myself up from the chair and assess my equilibrium. I don’t feel quite as woozy and I don’t stagger sideways, so I take a few cautious steps over to the bed. Ella is bent over in the closet, her sleep shorts riding up her thighs.

It’s then I stagger a little.

I tear my eyes away. “How do you plan on keeping me awake?” When I take a seat on the edge of her mattress, I wonder if that came across too suggestively. I’m sitting on her bed, half-naked, trying not to ogle her curves like a pervert.

Luckily, she’s not privy to my intrusive thoughts, so she doesn’t read into any innuendo as she lifts up and approaches me with a white T-shirt bunched in her hands. “You underestimate how annoying I can be.”

A smile pulls. I take the shirt and glance down at the design across the front. “Winnie the Pooh?”

“Yeah,” is all she says.

Ella looks away, pivoting to fiddle with her loose hair while I pull the shirt over my head. The shirt is a little tight around my biceps, but it’ll do. The smell of musty cardboard box and a hint of sage fills my nose as I scoot across the mattress to the headboard, the box spring creaking.

Tentatively, Ella crawls in beside me.

My mind goes blank.

Cotton balls fill my mouth as I stretch out my legs and our hips bump together.

I’m eighteen, so it’s not hard to fixate on the fact that I’m lying in a pretty girl’s bed, even though it’s not like that with Ella.

I feel like this is the part where awkward silence is about to fester between us. We’re side by side, backs to the headboard, shoulders smashed together.

But I should know her better than that by now.

She immediately starts to sing. Off-key and extra terrible.

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