Page 80 of Catch the Sun

“It’s different. She kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror on the drive over.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I’m sure she was just making sure he was comfortable.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Are you guys going to the same college?” I pivot.

He sniffs. “No. I have no grand plans after high school. Might see the world, might not.”

That’s strangely relatable. I toss him a glance and a smile. “The world is vast and intimidating. Maybe it’s more about finding our place in it, rather than seeing all of it.”

His mouth twitches when he looks at me. Nodding, McKay slips one hand in the pocket of his baggy jeans. His shoulder-length hair flies behind him when a breeze whips through, and for a moment, he bears a striking resemblance to Max. The tiny smile, the stance, the eyes a similar shade of blue in the low-hanging sun. But there is no trace of dimples.

I’m about to say something else when Max returns, tugging the hoodie over his head and handing it to me. “Here, take this. You look freezing.”

“But then you’ll be freezing,” I reply, frowning at the gesture while regarding his bare arms. “I’m the idiot drinking a slushie on a cold day.”

“I’ll be fine. Take it, Ella.”

Reluctantly, I accept the offering with a look of gratitude. “Thanks.” The hoodie is warm, scented with earthy cologne and the faint aroma of cigarette smoke. The sleeves hang past my palms as I wrap myself in a one-person hug and inhale deeply.

Max steps toward me, his gaze trailing me as his throat rolls. “Looks good on you.”

“It’s comfy,” I say with a smile.

“Ready for music?” He doesn’t wait for me to reply as he closes the gapbetween us and reaches for one of my concealed hands.

I shake it through the sleeve hole and our fingers interlock. It feels effortless, like our hands were made for holding, and warmth spreads to every limb. I lift my eyes to his as he towers a foot above me. “Ready,” I say.

I’d be ready for anything with his hand in mine.

***

We commandeer a high-top table that overlooks a giant stage. Dazzling strobes splash an array of colors across the band as attendees wave their hands on the dance floor and music pulls everyone to their feet.

Bear’s Den is playing—one of Max’s favorite bands. I recognize a few songs that played on the drive over. Kai sways back and forth to my right, so I nudge him with my elbow. “Having fun?”

He glances beside him at Brynn! before clearing his throat. “Sure. The music is good.”

“And the company is exceptional.”

“The company is mostly exceptional.”

We share a glance, and I know McKay’s passive-aggressive comments are what have tainted the exceptional company.

When the band announces their next song called “Red Earth & Pouring Rain,” Max leans in to me on my left. His rich voice tickles my ear and sends a shiver up my spine. “This one is my favorite.”

“Oh, yeah?” I twist to look at him, and he’s closer than I expect. I suck in a quick breath as our noses almost kiss. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

The crowd goes wild when the first chord rings out. The lights dim and a lone spotlight shines on the lead singer, casting him in a white glow. As his voice croons into the microphone, harmonizing in perfect sync with the instruments, energy surges through the audience and causes bodies to undulate and arms to swing back and forth. There’s a huge smile on my face as I watch, transfixed, my shoulder glued to Max’s arm. When I pull my chin up to catch his expression, I drink in his closed eyes and soft smile. There’s a dreamy, soulful wrinkle tohis brow and I find myself staring at him instead of at the band. He must feel my attention on him, because a moment later, his arm is around me, tugging me closer.

I melt into him.

The song picks up, the crowd whistling and bopping. Couples sway and slow dance as magic creeps beneath my skin and zaps my heart. I lean in to Max with my whole weight, nestling in the crook of his arm, flush against his torso as he holds onto me like a treasure. Just as the singer belts out lyrics about pouring rain, a sprinkler system activates, dousing the crowd in a cool shower. I gasp. A laugh follows, and my head tilts back while a gentle stream of water mists my face.

Max blinks down at me, a smile pulling at his lips, the moisture from overhead dampening his bangs until they’re stuck to his forehead.

Nothing else exists. Just this song, this boy, and this look between us.

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