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

I saw that the notifications on my phone were nonexistent. In other words, nobody had texted or Snapped or DMed me in weeks. Nobody had even tagged me in a post. I didn’t want to be disappointed by this, but I was.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I nearly dropped it. A pic of Brooks’s face next to a pack of makeup wipes appeared on my screen. I smiled, then texted back a pic of me holding up my thumb.

I added his name and number to the contact info in my phone. Then I swiped over to each of my social media accounts, double-checking my notifications. Nothing. I pulled up Shay’s latest story, wondering if she’d said anything about our fight. But it was just pics out a car window—trees, a lake, a billboard. Her road trip with Trent, I realized.

Brooks opened the car door and I jumped in surprise.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“What? Yes. Fine.” I turned off the screen and put my phone down.

He tossed the makeup wipes onto my lap.

“Thanks.”

“Checking in with your friends?” he said, nodding toward my phone.

“Sort of. No, not really.”

He turned on the car and backed out of the spot. “Your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Now that you’ve made it, you should tell your family and friends about the festival. They can buy tickets and come.”

I was super proud that I had helped us make it into the festival, but I didn’t think my parents would understand that it was an accomplishment. They’d only see it as a betrayal. I’d been lying to them. The thought of that made my stomach turn. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Why?”

“My parents hate music. They are actively working to have it banned from our town.”

“Really?”

“Did that even sound a little bit possible to you?”

He gave my shoulder a push and laughed. “Yes, obviously it did. So then what’s the real reason?”

“Because I’ve been lying, and not just a little bit.”

“True. But what about other friends? They wouldn’t drive up and watch you perform?”

I flipped the visor down to find the mirror. “Do you mind? Is this blocking your view?”

“It’s fine,” he said.

I clicked on the light. “I guess I’m not that close to a lot of people,” I said, freeing a makeup wipe and getting to work on my face.

“And your boyfriend?” That was the second time he’d asked about a boyfriend. “You and Clay aren’t—”

“Clay? No!” I turned to face him. “You thought Clay and I were together?”

“I know he likes you. I just wondered if you liked him back.”

“How do you know that?”

“It’s obvious.”

“Well, I disagree. But we’re friends, sort of,” I said. “I barely know him. What about you? Are you inviting people up?”

“No.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, my mom works two jobs. And it would be impossible for my dad.”

“You should tell your mom, Brooks. Give her the opportunity to support you.”

“I told you, I’m not her favorite person right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged.

I took the bobby pins out of my hair and deposited them one by one into the cup holder in the console. “What about your girlfriend? Gwen? Will she come?”

“Gwen? Who’s— Oh! No, she’s my dad’s nurse.”

My shoulders fell with relief.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh…” I undid the braid while trying to hide a smile that wanted to light up my face. “My sister will probably come. I need to tell her now that…this part is done.”

“And Mari, she wanted to come too.”

“That’s right. So see, we’ll have people there.”

I looked down at what I was wearing, knowing my dad would immediately find my outfit suspicious. It wasn’t my standard wardrobe. I buttoned up the flannel I wore, leaving the top two buttons undone, then pulled my arms inside of it and snaked my way out of the tank before pulling it out and over my head. I put my arms back in the flannel sleeves, buttoned another button, and threw the tank behind me onto the seat.

“That was impressive,” he said, pointing to my flannel.

“All girls have this skill—don’t be too impressed.”

He was quiet for a little while and I clicked off the light I’d been using to take off my makeup and settled back against the seat. I watched the yellow lines on the road in front of us.

“I am impressed.”

I let out a sharp breath. “I guess you’re easily impressed, then.”

“No,” he said. “Not the tank top thing. Your performance. You did really good.”

“You already said that,” I said quietly.

“I can’t say it again?”

“It helped to look at you, made me forget what I was doing.” The second that came out of my mouth, my cheeks heated up. “I mean, it made me think we were back in the room at camp and I didn’t have to worry.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He stared straight ahead.

“Now we have to write a second song, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, you up for it?”

“For sure.” I watched mile markers and street signs rush by as we drove.

I turned a heating vent toward me. Brooks’s thumbs tapped a silent beat on the steering wheel. Why had our conversation suddenly dried up? We’d been spending so much time together and never had a problem talking.

Did it have something to do with the fact that I was hyperaware of every breath he was taking? Or every shift he made in his seat. He tucked his hair behind his ear, exposing his jaw, and I wanted to reach over and run a finger along it. I swallowed that desire and turned my attention out the side window.

“Are you still tired?” he asked after a while.

“Yes,” I answered, even though I wasn’t at all. I was wide awake, my senses on high alert.

“We’re almost there,” he said.

I checked my phone. Sure enough, the No service message was back in the corner. We’d made good time. It was ten minutes before eight. I would beat my parents.

The headlights shone on the Bear Meadow sign, and the sound of the turn signal cut through the