Under the Dusty Sky (Holloway Farms)

over, I press my hands to my eyes, and Bentley rubs my back.
    “ Won’t be doing that again for awhile, hey?”
    “ More like ever,” I grumble back.
    “ So do you want to come with me to town to pick you up?”
    I look over at his grinning face as he kneels beside me, his hand still trailing up and down my back. There’s the urgency that was missing last night. A sudden and irrational need for his hands to be everywhere at once.
    “ I’d love to, but I’m in a bikini top, I feel gross, and my mouth tastes like a manure pile. Not that I would know what that tastes like,” I say, and he laughs.
    “ I happen to have an old t-shirt of mine that shrunk in the wash, aspirin, and a spare toothbrush. Still in the package.”
    He holds out his other hand, and I shake my head at the shirt, bottle, toothbrush, toothpaste, and small bottle of water clutched in his fist.
    “ You think of everything, don’t you?” I remember the note he left.
    “ Well of course. I am perfect, after all.”
    My eyes snap to his, which are dancing with amusement.
    “ What did I say to you last night?” My heart starts hammering, and Ben leans forward to kiss the tip of my nose. I almost fall backwards because it catches me totally off guard.
    “ Let’s just say I know you a little better today than I did yesterday,” he says and presses his finger to the spot that he kissed. A kiss for every time he learns something about me. I’m horrified at what that something was.
    I brush my teeth quickly using the bottled water and the bucket and throw the T-shirt over my head. It smells like everything good a guy can smell like. Earth and soap and spice and a faint hint of whatever cologne or deodorant he uses. It’s faded and worn and stretched out so the neck hangs down over my shoulder just like my ratty old sweatshirt. I smile up at him.
    “ I might keep this shirt,” I say, and he gestures with his hand like it’s all mine.
    I run my fingers through my knotted hair and pull an elastic band from my shorts pocket after braiding the strands down my shoulder.
    “ You ready, princess? You know we won’t be getting out of the truck, right?”
    I slap his knee, and he stands, reaching out his hand to me. I take it, and he pulls me up, but I should have known that standing would be a bad idea. My stomach lurches, and my head goes fuzzy. I think I’m going to faint. I grab onto Ben, and he steadies me by sliding his arms around me. I rest my forehead on his chest and take a couple deep breaths, smelling nothing but him.
    I spend a lot of time close to people. I have three brothers that basically live on top of me. I have friends I hug, people I bump into, guys I’ve tried to get close to. But with Ben, I’m so aware of it. I know exactly where he is in proximity to me. I can almost feel him move. He touches me a lot. I remember the first day on the porch when he wiped my cheek instead of just saying I had crap on my face.
    “ You okay?” He rubs my arms until my vision comes back.
    “ Yeah, totally, just dizzy.”
    And not just from the hangover.
    ***
    It’s not hard to sneak out, but I still lie flat on the seat until we pass the barns and stables just in case. Once I feel safe, I return to a sitting position with my feet on the dash, letting the wind cool me down and the dust fill my lungs.
    “ So what do you do around here for fun?” Bentley asks before smirking to himself. “Besides getting trashed.”
    “ Ha. Ha. But there really isn’t much else to do. Swim at Lacy’s. Hang out in the Dustbowl. Or Maggie’s Diner. Ride bikes, skateboard, wander the streets or sit and quietly hate our lives.”
    He laughs out loud this time, and I feel proud of it. That I made him laugh. A real laugh. What is happening to me?
    “ Learn how to drive?” He raises an eyebrow, and my whole body floods with excitement.
    “ Seriously? Like right now?”
    “ Why not?”
    “ Um, because my dad would kill you. Because I’m not sixteen yet. Because I am the motor destroyer.”
    “ No, actually you are the clutch burner, but good point. You’re sixteen tomorrow. How about if you wreck the truck I just tell your dad you stole it?”
    I probably look like Mason when you tell him he can watch his favorite TV show one more time. Wide grin and straight back with bright eyes.
    “ I can handle that,” I say.
    We pull off onto an old deserted side road that leads to the Shelton Shack. A haunted farm that was abandoned when my dad was my age.