Page 84 of Rebel Summer

“I did not?—”

He was kissing me again. The soft, almost curious kiss we’d shared only moments ago was nowhere to be found. Dax’s lips glided across mine in a way that curled my toes and had me arching toward him. His kiss was hot and smooth and controlled, the way he seemed to handle everything. I resisted my part as long as I could, but a girl could only hold back for so long before she breaks. And by the time Dax’s hands skated up my sides, his thumbs brushing my rib cage, I had broken.

I broke so hard.

My lips parted against his, letting him in. And that was all it took.

He drew both of his arms tightly around my body, his lips never leaving mine. Then, hauling me against himself before lifting me off the ground, he turned us, setting me down gently before pressing me against the wall of the cafe. His hands took turns in my hair and on my neck before landing on my cheek. His lips melted into mine, stirring up emotions that definitely didn’t make this seem like a bad idea. My hands roamed greedily up his arms, skimming past the tattoos on his shoulder before finding their place buried in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. As if on fire, his lips moved from my mouth to travel across my jawline and back again, not missing an inch.

In the back of my mind, I tried to remember where we were. Outside the cafe, in full view of the public. In full view of my dad. If he was even still around. Despite my insistence that this had all been for his benefit, I suddenly hoped he wasn’t here. I hoped the entire town had decided to stay home on this otherwise unremarkable Friday afternoon. I didn’t want to share this moment. I wanted it all to myself.

His lips were still on mine, but already I was mourning the loss of his kiss. The kind of kiss that would devastate me for a lifetime.

There had been so much talk leading up to this moment–the teasing, the goading, dancing around the heart of it all. But talk was just that. Talk. In this moment, our lips had painted us both liars. Big talkers. Hiding what we wanted most.

At least…hiding what I wanted most.

Biology Class

Day 31

“I stepped in chicken poop in the hallway on my way here. I’m guessing I have you to thank for that,” I said to Dax as I dropped into my seat next to him.

Dax’s brow furrowed while he pretended to think. “It does seem like there’s been a crazy amount of chickens around here lately.”

“Where do you even get chickens?” The high school was on the mainland, but it wasn’t like we were being overrun by farms this close to the ocean.

He pointed to himself. “Why do you assume it was me?”

I leveled him with a look that only made him laugh and turn away.

The chickens had arrived in the hallways just moments before the bell rang for lunch. Nobody saw them show up or knew how it happened; suddenly they were just there—six chickens and one angry rooster. The commotion raised afterward between teacher, student, and bird was one for the books. Watching the teachers tripping over themselves in the mad, chaotic fray as they scrambled to catch all of them would probably go down as one of my greatest memories of high school.

Not that I would ever tell Dax that.

T-minus 19 days to exit

Dax hours remaining: 124

The sign above the door to Sunset Repairs said ‘Closed’, though I didn’t pay it any mind. The doorknob turned easily enough, and I stepped inside. He was here. I knew he was. And I wasn’t sure why it annoyed me so much. Actually, I knew exactly why.

The Fourth of July on Sunset Harbor was the stuff of American dreams. The entire day was full of activities from a pancake breakfast on the square, the parade, swimming and games on the beach, food trucks, and finally ending the night with dancing and fireworks. Holidays didn’t get any better than this, and Dax wanted to skip out to work on some lawnmowers? If he wouldn’t hire somebody to help him in his shop, I was going to do it for him.

I had spent the morning trying not to search for Dax while constantly scanning the crowds. At the town pancake breakfast, to give myself something to do, I had attempted to help Jane, who was in charge of the entire event, but she had swatted me away to eat and enjoy myself. Our island’s own golf star, Walker Collins, served me pancakes along with Gemma, a pretty brunette I went to junior high with. Given her overall gorgeousness and the fact that I’d seen her with Beau at the cafe together recently, my suspicion meter was officially pinging.

To my surprise, Dax had eventually shown up at the pancake breakfast. Cat, Holland, and I had just sat down with our food, and within minutes, Dax and Phoenix slid into the seats next to us with plates full of pancakes dripping with syrup.

Though I tried to keep my composure, Dax’s leg pressed against mine under the table and I struggled to think of words.

“So you’ll leave your shop for pancakes?” I asked him quietly while the rest of the group began talking smack about the epic volleyball game scheduled later.

Dax took a drink of coffee steaming out of a red Solo cup. “I’ve actually been leaving my shop a lot more these days. And my pile of work keeps growing.”

“Maybe you should hire some help.”

“I have a girl working at my place, but she’s a big distraction, and she’s not that great with boats or tools.”

I have a girl.

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