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

had wandered over to the fence and was watching a tennis match.

“What’s that?” Brooks asked.

“Kai has gotten heavy-handed with the drums in the bridge. I think you should talk to him about it.”

“I’ll listen for that tonight.”

“Will you?” Levi asked. “Because Kai seems to do what he wants.”

“Seriously, Levi?” Kai said, leaning around the phone my sister had been holding up. “Just because you make zero contributions to the band doesn’t mean you have to crap all over mine.”

“Bass is a key element.”

“Is it, though?” Kai said with a cheerful smile.

Levi turned to Brooks. “This is what I mean—you let him get away with everything.”

“Last I checked, I wasn’t band mom,” Brooks said.

“Spoken like a true leader,” Levi said in exasperation, and stormed off.

I watched him go and then assessed the remaining band members. Kai was focused back on my sister. Ian had never stopped watching tennis, and Brooks was crossing out items on the list he held.

“Is he going to be okay?” I asked when it was obvious nobody was going to say anything.

Brooks looked confused for a split second before he said, “Oh, Levi? Yeah, he’ll get over it. Always does.”

“You all seem to fight a lot.”

“I wouldn’t call it fighting but yes, there are many strong opinions here.”

It had seemed like fighting to me. And conflict wasn’t my favorite; I tried to avoid it when I could. Lauren’s laugh rang out and my brows drew together as I watched her and Kai, heads close, watch a video on her phone.

“Lauren, we should probably get back to our class.” I gave Brooks the Help me out here, she’s only fifteen look.

It was a lot to expect him to understand without words but he seemed to at least understand the first part because he said, “And we have a mouse in cabin four to corner, boys.”

They left, and as Lauren and I walked back to the meadow and our paintings, I said, “You know he’s eighteen, right?”

“Who?” she asked.

“You know exactly who I’m talking about,” I said, because she did; she was just trying to play innocent.

“Okay, Dad,” Lauren returned.

“Seriously, Lauren, any boy in college interested in a sophomore in high school is only interested in one thing.”

“Now you can read minds?” She sighed as she picked up her paint palette off the grass. “It’s not my fault that I’m mature for my age.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“Whatever. Nothing is happening. Pretty sure you’re the only one crushing on someone,” she said.

“No, I’m not. We’re just friends!” My racing heart and overly defensive reaction seemed to completely contradict my words. So I calmly added, “Plus, Brooks is only a year older than me. There’s a difference. But, either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m not here to get anyone fired.” And that was true.

She reached over and swiped a streak of green paint across my arm.

I gasped. “Brat!” I added purple to her neck and she squealed, then laughed.

I held up my paint palette like a shield, waiting for her retaliation. But before she did, she pulled out her phone so she could get it on video. My smile slipped off my face.

“Where did you get these? You just have bows and arrows lying around your cabin?” I asked.

Brooks and I stood in a clearing in the woods above the lake. After meeting at the pay phone (which turned out to be just a convenient place, not a waiting phone call), we’d trudged through overgrown brush, away from the crowded trails of camp, away from the docks dotted with colorful kayaks and paddle boats, away from the roped-off swimming area with its lounge chairs and splashing kids, to this spot that seemed far away from everything.

Even though it seemed far away, it had only been a fifteen-minute walk. I picked a few foxtails out of my socks and then stood. Beyond the trees surrounding us, I could see the large lake stretched out below, its jagged borders making it seem like it wanted to escape the confines of its home, the trees its only barriers to freedom.

Brooks picked up a bow leaning against a tree. “I swiped them from the archery range. They won’t miss them for a couple hours.”

I wondered when he had brought them up here. When he’d had time.

“Have you done this before?” he asked.

“Snuck into the woods with a boy and shot arrows? No, no, I haven’t.”

He smiled. “And if you take away the boy and the woods?”

Why would I want to do that? “Still no,” I said.

He nocked an arrow onto the bowstring and sent it flying into a fallen tree across the way.

“Is that what you were aiming for?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure how impressed I should be.”

“And you’ve decided you’re very impressed?”

“For sure.”

His eyes twinkled as he handed me a bow. “Let’s see what you got.”

I gripped the bow and stared at the tree across the way. “Tips, tricks, secrets?”

“Are you right-handed?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, left arm forward, right elbow straight back, until your hand rests against your cheek, and then aim and release.”

“That easy, huh?”

“I guess we’ll see.” He held up an arrow and pointed to the orange, feathered end. “See this little notch here? That fits over the string.”

I lifted the bow, fitting the arrow in place, and managed to stretch the string and arrow back until my hand touched my cheek. I’d seen enough movies to know at least the basics. There was more tension in the string than I’d imagined there’d be.

Brooks reached out and adjusted my elbow. “Look at your target over the top of the arrowhead.”

“Okay, I got it.”

“And release.”

I released, the arrow flew, and the string snapped hard against my inner arm. “Holy…Ouch!” I dropped the bow and covered my stinging arm.

“Oh yeah,” he said with a cringe. “I should’ve warned you about the snapback. People wear forearm guards for that.”

“But we don’t? We’re not people?”

He laughed. “I didn’t think to grab any.”

“Did you not get your arm snapped when you