Sunkissed, Kasie West [best authors to read TXT] 📗

photos, hoping to pull up a pic of me and Shay doing something fun or inspiring, but my finger froze on the first pic on the camera roll.

Brooks.

He’d taken a pic the other night when he’d had my phone? It was a goofy selfie with his cheeks puffed out and his blue eyes shining. I rolled my eyes and slammed my phone down on the couch cushion next to me. “Don’t act like you’re funny and cute, Brooks,” I muttered.

My legs twitched, angry energy coursing through them. I stood again, taking the same path as before between the overstuffed couch and the irregular-shaped coffee table.

The front door swung open and Lauren walked in. Her cheeks were pink from the sun and she had a towel wrapped around her. She watched me complete a back-and-forth path. “What are you doing? Where are Mom and Dad?”

“They went to pick up the laundry room key. I guess the owner gave them permission to use it because we’ll be here all summer.”

“Ugh!” Lauren groaned. “And here I thought we’d be able to get out of this place every once in a while.”

“Guess not,” I returned.

“So what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to think.” And it definitely wasn’t working.

“O-kay,” she said, obviously not impressed with that answer.

“You know what I need,” I decided, sitting back down and picking up my phone. “I need a playlist.” That’s what would help me think.

“I thought all your songs were stuck in the cloud.”

“They are, but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?” She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, staring inside as she waited for me to answer.

“Inspiration.”

“Inspiration?”

“I’m going to prove I don’t just go with the flow.”

“Um…what?” She turned around, holding an apple.

I opened my Notes app. “I need a title first. Something like I’m Not Your Ice, Ice Baby, or Failure to Launch.”

“Are those supposed to be inspirational?”

“They will be to me.” I started typing in songs that I could add when I had internet. But even just having the list would remind me.

“And then what?” Lauren asked, biting into her apple.

“Then I’ll…I don’t know. Try new things or something.” I’d prove I knew how to live deliberately.

“While listening to your I’m Not Your Ice, Ice Baby playlist?”

I held up a finger. “While not listening to it.”

She smiled. “Right. While thinking about it.”

“Yes.” I went to the kitchen counter and began riffling through the welcome packet, looking for the schedule of activities. I’d make my own schedule—things to try this summer.

“I have a new thing for you to try,” Lauren said.

“Okay, what?”

“Band practice tonight.”

“No…I can’t…” We could not go to band practice. At least, I couldn’t. Brooks was going to think I was obsessed with him. I wasn’t. Right now I’d be happy if I never had to see him again. But I had to admit, when he dropped his judgmental walls, there was something there that intrigued me.

She raised her eyebrows, challenging me. She was right—I couldn’t turn down the first new experience presented to me. The goofy selfie of Brooks on my phone flashed through my mind. “Fine. I’ll come.”

“You ready?” Lauren said, poking her head in our room.

I sat up, putting the book I had been reading facedown on my bed. I’d found it on the TV stand in the living room where a television was supposed to sit but where only books and board games could be found. “Good news. I still like to read,” I said to Lauren. That was the initial reason I’d thought of a career as a lit professor. It later became about how literature and words and ideas had shaped history and how they could shape people.

“I thought you were trying new things, not old things,” she said.

“Yes, I am. I just…” What, Avery? You just what? Had still been trying to convince myself that I had chosen my future and it hadn’t chosen me? That I wasn’t as pathetic as I felt right now? “Nothing, you’re right. New things. Let’s go.”

Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room as we headed to the front door.

“Where are you girls off to?” Dad asked. I’d been avoiding him since cornhole. I’d begged off dinner in the dining hall, opting for a bowl of oatmeal here, and had been in my room ever since. I’d get over what he’d said eventually. He had no clue he’d insulted me; if he knew, he’d feel bad, and I really didn’t want to make him feel bad. I just needed some time.

“They’re telling ghost stories at the lower fire pit tonight,” Lauren lied effortlessly.

“Ooh, fun,” Mom said. “Maybe I should come with you.”

Lauren leveled Mom with a stare.

“But I won’t,” she said, laughing.

“See you later.” Lauren pulled the door closed behind us and aimed a flashlight on the path ahead. As we walked, trees loomed dark on either side of the path, like large sentinels.

“I have a really good ghost story. Do you think it’s audience participation tonight or no?” I asked with a straight face.

“We’re not really going there,” she said. “I just picked something from the schedule in case they checked it.”

“I know.”

“Oh, right. You and your dumb jokes.” She pulled out a notebook. “So, you trying new things got me thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s been something I’ve wanted to try forever now.” She took a breath and showed me the notebook. In black Sharpie on the front cover was the word Documentary. “I think I’ve found my subjects.”

“Subjects?” I asked.

“The band.”

“A documentary?” A loud toad croaked in the distance in a deep baritone. “About the band?”

She nodded. “Yes. I love doing videos. You know that. And I love all those true-crime documentaries. I’ve watched like a million of them. So this will be perfect.”

“Ooh, what crimes has the band committed?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes, proving once again that she didn’t appreciate my jokes very much. “None, but the same principles apply, right?” She flipped through the book and I could