Page 31 of Rebellious

Methodically, he pens the rule onto my stomach. It doesn’t make me feel tingly or sad like it normally does. Probably because I’m flipping through the pictures on my phone and enjoying the hell out of seeing that big hand palm the shit out of my boob like he was scared someone was trying to steal it. I turn the screen around so he can see. “This one is my favorite,” I say, beaming. “It says, ‘I could use my mouth and make you feel so much better.’”

The hand on my stomach pauses.

“Don’t you agree?” I tease.

At first, he doesn’t answer me, but then he sucks in his bottom lip and shakes his head. “It says, ‘You had to have my hands because my tongue would’ve tortured you.’”

My mouth hangs open. Bennett Jameson has finally shocked me speechless.

“I—”

I can’t form words as I watch him bow over my stomach, popping a dot on the “i” of tit.

“You want some coffee?” he asks, sitting up and capping the marker like he didn’t just admit that his mouth would have tortured me. Tortured!

Am I dreaming?

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, grinning like a little kid. “Shower and change. The guys and I will start loading up your boxes.”

The mention of boxes pulls me out of my blissful shock. “Okay. Thanks.”

How could I forget for even a minute I was moving today?

Oh right, Bennett squeezed my boob and told me he was considering transferring schools! However, both milestones come with a big fat but. Neither I want to know right now. Call me crazy, but I prefer living on Denial Island just a little longer. Then, when I’m full of fun in the sun with Bennett, he can destroy me.

Climbing out of bed, I tug Bennett’s oversized shirt down and pad out to the kitchen. The living room is what I expected—a mess, but Fenn and Drew each have garbage bags and are picking up—not by choice, I’m sure.

I can already tell Fenn’s going to be a real sweetheart with the glare he’s sporting. “Do you ever sleep in your own room?”

“Do you ever stop whining?” I return.

See? He’s super lovely today.

Bennett slides a cup of coffee across the counter, ignoring Fenn, which tips him over into Shittyville quickly.

“I hope she’s riding with you,” he says, eyeing Bennett. “Otherwise, she won’t make it home.”

I scoff. “Please, sweetie. Don’t act like you know the way home.” I poke my lip out pitifully. “Mr. I Failed Geography Twice.”

I dodge the can he throws and laugh. “Text me when we’re leaving,” I tell Bennett, making my way to the front door. I don’t have time for sleep-deprived drama demons.

The drive home was typical. Bennett sat in the driver’s seat brooding while I scrolled through the boob grab evidence, showing him a few when we stopped at a traffic light.

“You need to delete those.” He’s trying to be a real honorable dude. Too bad I won’t let him.

“You can delete your copies then.”

He jerks his gaze to his phone lying on the console. “You sent me copies?”

“All sixty of them.”

“Aspen.”

“Bennett.”

“I’m not playing,” he says, leveling me with that look he gets before a game.

“I’m not playing either. I figured you might miss me when I move to Boston. Better to have as many memories as possible.”

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