American Honey

“You could never make it look bad. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you wear that number.”

“Since the first moment you met me?”

“Something like that.” I take a sip and Laney does too.

“Mmm, what is this?” she asks curiously, looking into the cup.

“You like it?”

“Yes.” She takes another sip.

“Iced tea vodka and lemonade.”

“Much better than sweet tea,” she comments.

“You don’t like sweet tea?” I ask, a little shocked.

“You didn’t notice I never drank anything at dinner when we were studying?”

“I did. I just never thought … I mean I can’t imagine anyone not liking sweet tea.”

“I felt bad telling your mom I didn’t like it.”

“You really are a Yankee,” I tease.

“Born and bred.” She laughs.

“I forgive you,” I joke.

“We can’t all be perfect like you.” She knocks her knees against mine.

“I’m not perfect anymore. Not that I ever was.” I look up at the starry sky.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” I can feel Laney’s eyes searing through me.

“I don’t know any other way to be.” I shrug. “My whole life I’ve been under a spotlight. People have either wanted something or expected something from me. I’ve always felt pressure to deliver.”

“I see,” she muses, taking another sip of her drink. I didn’t mean to get deep, but it’s easy to talk to Laney. Too easy sometimes.

“So why is your dad in New York?” I clear my throat, my soul feeling a little bare.

“He’s guest starring on America’s Next Top Chef. He’s the celebrity judge.”

“That sounds cool.”

“Yeah, he asked me to go with him, but I couldn’t bail on the football game. Miranda would have skinned me.”

“You passed on a trip to New York to play Powder Puff football?”

“Why do you sound shocked?”

“Because I am.” I laugh.

“Why?” she demands.

“Because football is just a game to you.”

“True, but it’s like a religion to the people around here. I didn’t want them to burn me in effigy if I ducked out.”