Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEN
O n the third Friday of the school year, I’m happy to find Jason waiting for me outside of the gym after practice. Flyers got to practice inversions today, something I’ve never tried before. As one of the smallest girls on the squad, Coach gave me one of the coveted flyer positions despite my lack of experience.
I’ve done plenty of tumbling and stunt work in gymnastics growing up, but working those same moves while suspended in midair was much harder than I thought it’d be, and it’s the first time since making the varsity team that I truly feel my own inexperience.
Luckily the girls who stood as my base today were patient, and the other flyers gave me tips and advice so that by the end of the two-hour-long practice I was exhausted, but I was hitting the right marks.
Pom-poms in hand, I walk toward a smiling Jason who leans against the brick wall of the school. He’s wearing his letterman jacket, his hands stuffed casually in the pockets on each side as he nods polite hellos to the other girls who walk by. But when his eyes land on me, I see the way they light up and my stomach dips in excitement. It’s enough to stop me dead in my tracks.
His smile settles into a smirk as he pushes off the wall and walks toward me, giving me a peck on the cheek as soon as I’m within reach. “Hey, Layla,” he murmurs low in my ear. He smells like soap and his hair is damp from an after-practice shower, and I almost can’t stand it—the way he sends my heart spiraling.
My own smile grows so wide that it’s almost uncomfortable, but I can’t help it—not when he’s looking at me like that. Like he’s been waiting all day to breathe me in. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
He pulls my bag off of my shoulder and slides it over his own before holding his hand out for me to take. “I was hoping you might want to come somewhere with me,” he says as he leads us toward the school parking lot.
“Oh yeah?” I laugh. “Where?” Football games start next week so it’s our last Friday of freedom for a while, but since our date last weekend the chemistry continues to burn bright between us. His attempts at photo editing have suffered from the distraction.
Everyone in class was issued a decent camera to hang on to for projects this year, and last weekend we were tasked with taking nature pictures around our houses. I spent most of Sunday afternoon trying to capture my mom’s flower garden—it was a sunny day, and the coral petals from her Texas Paintbrush were almost neon in the sunlight. In class, I carefully adjusted the saturation to make the colors brighter, the green of the leaves so luminous they glowed from the computer screen.
Jason spent most of his editing time focused on me, and after turning in a dull and obscure photo of a football perched on an orange tee on his lawn, he’d been subjected to Mrs. Barajas's verbal feedback on his less-than-stellar processing choices.
He didn’t seem to mind.
I’m thrilled he wants to hang out with me again tonight.
“Wells is having a few people over at his place. Nothing crazy, but I want you to come so I can introduce everyone to my girl.” His smile grows, and I feel it tip right into my chest like a current.
Wells Bennett is an offensive tackle on the team. He was so good last year he became an instant starter—no other team was ever able to tackle Noah or Jason on the field with him planted there to guard them.
He’s Jason’s best friend, so I’m sure that helps motivate him to keep Jason safe. He also sits in front of me in math class, and every time I remember the way I crashed into him on the first day of school, I have to cool my cheeks with my fingers. That was before I knew who he was, but even now knowing, I still haven’t had a single interaction with him since. I’ve heard plenty of stories about the Bennett family, so I’ve been more than happy to keep clear of him.
“Um,” I say as we approach the parking lot. “Can I go home first? I need to shower and change.”
I don’t miss the way Jason sweeps his eyes over my body, lingering for a moment on my short black cheer shorts before he says, “Sure, can I pick you up in an hour? Is that enough time?”
“Yep,” I confirm, fiddling with my ponytail. And then a fit of bravery has me climbing onto my tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. Dating is still so new to me, but I love this part . . . like my heart might swell right out of my chest. “An hour is perfect.”
He grins. “You want a ride home?”
“No thanks. My house is close and the walk helps me cool down after practice.”
Jason leans in to give me a kiss this time, but his lips linger just above mine like he wants more. I giggle and push him away. “Okay, okay,” he relents, handing me back my bag with a wink. “See you in an hour.” I watch as he walks toward his Mustang, still reveling in the fact that I’m the girl he’s interested in.
My walk home is quick, and I can smell something cooking as soon as I push through the door. I find my mom in the kitchen hovering over our cast-iron stove. “Hey, Mom!”
She whips around to face me, smiling brightly. “Hi, bug, how was cheer?”
“It was good—I landed a new round-off back handspring combination that I’ve been struggling with. We also started flying.”
She smiles wider—my mom knows how hard those kinds of moves are. She was Saddlebrook Falls’ varsity cheer captain in her day. “That’s my girl!” She sets down the wooden spoon in her hand and reaches to wrap me in a warm hug. “You know, you are growing into quite the beautiful and capable young lady, Layla.” She pulls away to look me in the eye, her hands wrapping around my shoulders. “I’m really proud of you. You keep all this up, and that handsome quarterback of yours is going to lock you down the second you graduate from school.”
I roll my eyes. “Mom,” I whine, “don’t make it weird. I’m not going to marry someone at eighteen—this isn’t the nineteenth century, for crying out loud.”
A laugh spills out of her. “All I’m saying is that you’re really doing it, sweetheart. You made the varsity cheer team as a freshman, you’re dating the mayor’s son—I’m so thrilled to keep watching you shine.”
I know better than to show it, but disappointment flares inside of me. I wish it took a little more than that to make my mother proud. But I also know the vision she has for my future is merely the by-product of her own painful history.
My father skipped out as soon as he found out my mother was pregnant with me. He wasn’t from here, just a lone traveler passing through town as he made his way west. He was young and reckless, running from a life in the sticks toward something new on the California coast, but he spent almost a year in Saddlebrook Falls after he and my mom fell hopelessly in love the summer after she graduated.
In the end, when it came time to face the music, he’d left her high and dry. She didn’t have a job, never went to college, and was so sure that he’d take her with him to California—take her out of this town and to the sparkling coast. Instead, he forced her to rely on the help of her parents.
When I was six, she met Barry on a trip to Vegas with her girlfriends. I’d been dropped off with my grandparents for the weekend, and by Sunday night my mom returned home with a big ring on her finger and an unfamiliar man on her arm. It caused a bit of a ruckus around town, but Barry won everyone over with his charm and deep pockets. Mom quickly got pregnant again, and Annie was born. If it weren’t for her, I’m not sure my mother’s marriage to Barry would be as tolerable. After she’d initially brought him home, I tried to negotiate living with my grandparents, but it wasn’t long before they high-tailed it to a retirement home in Florida.
I guess we weren’t their problem anymore.
“Speaking of which,” I segue, “Jason’s picking me up soon—I need to go shower.”
Her smile slumps. “You won’t be here for dinner? I’m making chicken and dumplings.”
I shake my head as I move toward the hallway. “I’m sure we’ll pick something up on the way. Thanks though!”
“Hold on a minute, bug. On the way to where?”
I freeze—I don’t want to tell her I’m going to Wells Bennett’s house. The Bennetts have a . . . reputation in this town. “He wants to introduce me to some of the guys on the team.”
Her head tilts in consideration. “It’s not a party, is it?”
“No, not a party. Just a few friends.”
She makes a show of pursing her lips, but I already know I have her.
“Be home by eleven, okay?”
I nod. “Yes ma’am.”
Jason picks me up a half hour later, tearing out of my neighborhood with a loud squeal of his tires. I slap him on the arm, knowing I’ll hear about that from Mom when I get home, but I can’t help but smile as he reaches to tug on a wave of my still-damp hair. He came up to my front door to get me this time, dazzling my mother with his good southern manners. But the second we turned away from the house and heard the door latch shut, he nuzzled into my neck with a small growl. “I like you with wet hair,” he said low, his breath catching along the curve of my ear.
It warmed me from the inside out.
We drive to the other side of town where there’s nothing but wide-open farmland on either side of the two-lane road. I’ve never known where the Bennett family lives, but I do know that for generations they’ve run some sort of horse ranch, so it makes sense that it would be in the outskirts. I don’t know much about their family other than the gossip that’s trickled around over the years—mostly about a cluster of rowdy and lawless boys who will do just about anything for a thrill, and their angry, drunk father who’s been arrested on numerous occasions. But when those boys aren’t galavanting around town in the middle of the night getting into trouble, the family mostly keeps to themselves.
Jason snakes his mustang down a windy dirt road before a wooden gate comes into view. It’s propped open, fastened to the fence that lines the side of the road with an old rope. We drive through, and before long the road curves to the right toward a white house with huge windows flanked by beautiful black shutters. It’s the biggest house I’ve ever seen, surrounded by bright green grass and a garden of colorful flowers . . . and what looks like a horse corral.
It must be a horse corral, because someone is sitting on a horse inside of it.
Half a dozen cars are parked in a row along the tree-line on the other side of the house, and Jason drives toward it to park next to an older Chevy Impala. Something about the horse in the corral snags at my attention, so I crane my neck to look out of the back windshield of the car to get a better look. I can barely see what’s going on but . . . I think the horse is trying to buck the rider off of it. “Is he okay?” I ask, nerves flaring through me.
But Jason just softly chuckles, like my worry isn’t necessary. “Oh yeah, everything’s fine.” He shoots me a quick wink. “Let’s go.”
I can hear whoops and hollering as we near the edge of the corral. People are crowded around watching the rider do his best to hold on, and I can’t stop myself from hurtling forward, still not convinced that something isn’t wrong.
As I get closer, I realize it’s Wells on the horse. His face is twisted in fierce concentration as he holds tight to dark leather reins, the chestnut horse bucking wildly beneath him. His hips bounce up and off the saddle, but he sinks back into it every time the horse lands on its feet, his corded arms straining as his thighs work to keep himself seated.
“What’s he doing?”
Jason smiles next to me, shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug. “Riding.”
I turn my attention back to Wells, to his dusty black T-shirt and old backward hat. Something hangs out of the corner of his mouth as the horse continues to twist and kick, and I feel entranced by it all. I’ve seen plenty of horses in my life—this is Texas after all—but I’ve never seen anything like this outside of the rodeo competitions on TV that Barry sometimes watches.
“He’s winding down,” a man with a dark brown cowboy hat calls out from the other side of the corral. In the bending sunlight, he looks a lot like Wells. Maybe a few years older—one of his brothers, I’d guess. There are five of them in total, and they’re all known for their bad behavior.
According to town lore their dad, Bud Bennett, lost the use of his legs in a rodeo accident over a decade ago. He became somewhat of a recluse after it happened, avoiding going into town as much as he could and finding solace from his loss at the bottom of the bottle. My mom said before his accident, you could find him at the center of barroom brawls.
After Bud’s accident, his sons had to step up and run the ranch. There are whispers about what the Bennetts might really do here, scandalous theories of a secret drug ring or a barn full of stolen property. It’s why I was hesitant to tell my mom I was coming here tonight—I knew what she’d say. But sometimes I wonder if any of those stories are really to be believed. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re nothing but a convenient way for the townsfolk to peddle convenient narratives about a family they don’t understand.
“Yep,” is all Wells says back, eyes still focused on the horse beneath him. One of his hands stays in the air, as if to keep himself balanced.
His brother is right—the horse begins to slow, his kicks bursting less frequently and with less energy until he eventually starts trotting around the perimeter of the space. “Good,” he calls back out. “Let’s bring him in.” He pushes off the fence to unlatch a gate that’s built into it, shooting an obvious glare toward this side of the corral where a group of football players continue to jeer. I realize most of them have a beer in their hand. I don’t recognize the girls with them, but they eye me curiously as Jason palms the small of my back to steer me closer.
“Hey, everyone,” Jason greets. “This is Layla.”
“That was fast,” one of the girls says, a tall beauty in a bright green crop-top. “Michelle’s body isn’t even cold, and you’re already parading around a new one? ”
Heat burns my cheeks as Jason’s grip on me tightens. “Always a flair for the dramatics, huh Stassi?”
Stassi grins. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”
“Knock it off, Stass,” says a dark-haired boy in a letterman jacket that matches Jason’s, and he hooks an arm around her. She looks at him with innocent eyes and he plants a chaste kiss on her temple. “Behave,” he murmurs into her ear.
“It’s nice to meet you, Layla.” Another boy with a mop of blond curls greets me, holding a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Brad. And this is my girlfriend, Erin.” He gestures to the smaller blonde to his left who gives me a wide smile.
“Hi,” I say back, doing my best to press down the embarrassment from Stassi’s words. I know Jason’s breakup with Michelle was only a couple of weeks ago, but that doesn’t mean what we have is any less real. It doesn’t help my confidence that everyone here is clearly older than me—all probably juniors, like Jason and Wells.
Erin’s returning smile is warm, though, and it helps to smooth over the nerves I feel. “Nice to meet you, Layla. I think I’ve seen you around—you’re a cheerleader, right?”
I grin. “Yeah, I am.”
Erin looks back at Stassi as the dark-haired boy leads her by the hand toward what looks like a large shed. “Don’t worry about Stassi. She’s really good friends with Michelle.” Her eyes flick to Jason for a second before she clears her throat.
I’ve never felt more awkward in my life, and I debate asking Jason to bring me home. It was nice of him to want to introduce me to his friends, but I didn’t ask for any of this. I steal a glance and find him looking unbothered, like none of this makes him feel as anxious as it makes me.
Something catches his attention in the distance, and I look to see Wells approaching the group on foot with the man in the cowboy hat. The horse is gone, likely tucked back into the giant barn behind them. They speak quietly to each other for a moment before the man claps Wells on the shoulder and looks our way, that glare setting back into place as he studies each one of us. He shakes his head and then heads toward the house.
Wells’s lips are pressed tight around a piece of hay. “What’s Brooks’s problem?” Jason asks, his hand sliding to my waist again.
Wells shrugs. “Doesn’t want you all getting drunk here again. He and Kasey had to pick up a bunch of cans last time ’cause you fuckers don’t have any respect.”
Jason snorts. “Kasey drank more than all of us that night—they were probably his cans.”
Wells flashes him a warning look. “Let’s just take it easy, okay?” His eyes slide to me, like he’s just realized someone new is here. His eyes drop to Jason’s hand on my waist before they move back to Jason, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Jay, what the fuck?”
Great. Wells didn’t even know I was coming? Jason’s expression falters. “What?” He forces a smile back on his face as he looks down at me. “This is Layla. Layla, this is my best friend Wells. Forgive his rudeness.” His tone dips with his own warning.
I give Wells my best thousand-watt smile. “We have algebra together, I think.”
He looks at me for a beat, deep brown eyes assessing. And then he lowers his head. “Yeah.”
The rest of the group has already meandered toward the makeshift building that Stassi and her boyfriend disappeared into. Jason tilts his head that way. “Let’s have some fun, okay? I’m not drinking tonight, anyway. I have to get Layla home later.”
Wells still looks unconvinced, but at least his frown has disappeared. He simply nods, adjusting the worn hat on his head before wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Jason’s hand slips from my waist and winds into mine, and he tugs me toward the building.
Once we get inside, I see that it’s not a shed at all, it’s more of a recreation room. There’s a foosball table in the corner where the dark-haired boy—Ethan, Jason tells me—and Brad play. Erin and Stassi sit together on a worn sofa against the wall, watching them as they chaotically spin the little plastic men on the table. A fridge stands on the opposite wall, a dart board hanging next to it that looks like it’s seen better days, and a beer pong table that sits in the middle of the room, ready for use.
Wells beelines it for the fridge, opening the door to reveal it’s stocked full of beer. He grabs one, cracks it open, and takes a series of large gulps. I watch the column of his throat work with each swallow, both intimidated and a little mesmerized.
Jason dips his head low to my ear. “Sorry about Wells—he can be a bit of a grump sometimes.”
I try my best to give him a confident smile, but I still feel a distant nagging that I shouldn’t be here. Stassi glares at me from the other side of the room, and it’s like I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. I want to crawl into the shadows of the room, blend into the spaces where the light from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling doesn’t quite reach.
The foosball game soon ends with Ethan’s victory, and Jason jumps in to take Brad’s place. Brad stalks off to the fridge, grabbing a handful of beers to hand out to the rest of the group. Erin and Stassi both take one, as does Ethan. Jason refuses, which eases some of the tightness in my chest. When Brad offers one to me, I shake my head. “No thank you.”
Stassi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Not as fun as Michelle, either.”
Jason shoots her a dirty look, and Ethan curses low from his side of the table. Stassi, it seems, isn’t going to warm up to me anytime soon.
Something brushes against my arm, and I turn to find Wells is standing next to me. He peers down at me with open curiosity before turning his focus toward the game. But then he speaks, the low timbre of his voice curling around me. “I suggest you toughen up if you’re gonna hang around here, sunshine.” His eyes stay rooted on the others, and I’m not sure what to make of his words, or why he called me sunshine. But before I can say a word back to him, he steps away to unfold a camping chair, placing it on the ground near the couch and settling himself into it.