Page 5 of Peaches

“I’m so sorry about Trent,” she’s quick to say. “I had no idea Ivan would be friends with someone like that. Everyone he was with at the concert waswaycooler.”

I shrug. “Not a big deal, and not your fault. I’m a big girl,” I tell her, brushing it off. “But, um . . . did you see who’s here?”

“No, who?”

“Rhett Bennett.”

Charlotte’s eyes grow wide. “No way.”

I nod. “Yeah. Sitting at a high-top across the dance floor. And he was looking right at us.”

“Hm,” she considers. “I mean, he probably recognizes us—I’m sure you’ve served him coffee after a bender or two.” She grins when I tsk at her—his reputation is no secret, but everyone knows it’s customary to feign ignorance, not speak of it aloud. “Maybe we should go talk to him.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Why not?”

“Because. You know that family is dangerous.EspeciallyRhett. Didn’t he beat Scotty Pearce to a pulp for asking him for a cigarette?” Rhett and Scotty were a few years older than us and had graduated by the time we got to high school, but there were tons of stories about all of the Bennett brothers. The youngest, Wells, was in our grade—but he hardly talked to anyone. The whole family keeps to themselves . . . except for when they’re causing trouble, I guess.

Charlotte rolls her eyes. “I heard Scotty was talking shit about their dad and deserved it.”

I blink at her. “Who could you have possibly heard that from?”

“Micah’s girlfriend’s older sister was in their grade and at that party—she saw it happen. She said the rumors about Rhett punching him over a cigarette weren’t true, and that Scotty was practically egging him on and looking to start shit.” Micah is Charlotte’s older brother, and he’s been dating Eileen, his girlfriend, since they were in middle school. I forgot Eileen had an older sister. “You know how things get twisted over time,” Charlotte continues. “I also heard the gazebo fire might not have been him.”

“Wow, really?” Of all the stories about the Bennetts, that fire is one of almost legend at this point. Apparently Rhett, who was drunk and angry about a girl standing him up, set the wooden gazebo in the town square on fire. The whole thing collapsed before they could douse the flames, and it took months to replace it. For a long time, you could still see the charred remains of the surrounding grass, but it’s since grown back.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, taking a deep breath. But then, before she can dump every detail she has on standby about this, something flashes on her face—a look of pure shock.

“Evenin’,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me. The sound expands in my gut as I grow rigid, the wall behind me now my personal support beam.

Charlotte’s eyes flit back and forth cartoonishly from mine to a spot just over my shoulder, and it doesn’t take a clairvoyant to know who’s behind me. Squeezing my eyes shut, I internally count backward from five before pivoting around and opening them again.

Rhett Bennett is standing less than two feet away from me, gaze moving across my face as if he’s looking for something. A black hat with a simple band sits low across his brow, dark curls begging to be freed barely held in along his temples. His gray eyes—or maybe they’re a pale blue—spark even in the low light of the hallway. They’re near thunderous, and the corners of his mouth are tipped down into an obvious frown. I can’t help but feel like I’ve done something wrong.

“Um . . . hi,” I stammer. “We were just talking about you!” I say way too loudly. I regret the words before they’ve left my mouth.

His frown deepens, and my stomach sinks with it. “I’m sure,” he says, so low it’s a wonder I can even hear him. He’s got that familiar hotheaded anger on full display, and I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life to be on the receiving end of it.

A group of girls burst out of the bathroom like fireworks, laughing at something I’m sure is far less stressful than the awkwardness I’m stuck in, but his eyes don’t leave mine. “It looked like those guys might’ve been bothering you.”

It’s not a question, and my mind blanks as I attempt to draw out a response from . . .somewhere. Surely there’s a single neuron still firing. Thankfully, Charlotte must sense my frozen state. “Oh, that’s just my boyfriend and a friend of his,” she says, stepping up beside me with a confidence she wears like a suit of armor.

Rhett’s gaze moves to her, and the relief I feel is nearly tangible. “Your boyfriend was shouting.”

Charlotte waves a hand like it’s nothing. “Yeah, his friend called me a bitch. Honestly, his friend sucks. Liv and I just met him tonight . . . but I doubt we’ll see him again.” She laughs, and I can hear how forced it is.

Rhett’s focus moves back to me, and . . .yep, I feel the damning effects of it all over again. “You good?”

Something sparks to life inside of my chest, like the click of a gas burner. I don’t understand his question. “Am I good?” I parrot. But he doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at me with that stoic frown. I flip the question around in my mind before finally finding my voice again. “Um, yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

He nods once, the dip of his chin infinitesimal, before stepping around us. Charlotte and I turn in sync to watch him disappear into the men’s bathroom.

“What theheckwas that?” Charlotte whispers beside me.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the closed door, knowing Rhett’s in there. “I have no idea.”

Charlotte turns to look at me. “I think he likes you.”

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