Page 7 of Rebellious

But after three pubs, six shots of vodka, and a spontaneous phone call, our night—well, morning—ended with us standing on the edge of an abandoned bridge with a whole lot of attitude.

“Hold this for me.”

Handing over the piece of gum I’d been chewing for the past hour, I flash Bennett a smug smile. “You don’t want me to choke going down, do you?” I take in the firm set of his jaw, that insanely sexy cheek muscle twitching as he holds my gaze. You’d think the reason he’s in a foul mood this morning is because he’s awake at the butt crack of dawn, but I know better.

Bennett Jameson, quarterback of Havemeyer’s title-winning football team, is having the shittiest of mornings thanks to me and my drunken, spontaneous ideas.

“Well, if you won’t hold my gum, will you at least give me a push over the edge?” I look over my shoulder at the vast space below. “I don’t want to chicken out and owe Fenn a hundred bucks.”

I shake my hand, drawing his attention back to the piece of gum stuck between two fingers.

“No,” he bites out, snatching the gum and throwing it over his shoulder.

I cock a brow, amused. “No, you don’t want to hold my gum?” I give him a teasing look. “You could have just said so. You didn’t have to be all rude about it.” I pat my back pocket. “I got a whole new pack. I didn’t actually need you to hold it anyway.”

Do I know he wants to kill me?

Yes.

Does that entice me to keep going?

Absolutely.

Nothing in this world beats aggravating Bennett Jameson in front of witnesses. He may want to strangle me, but he won’t, because he’s a gentleman like that.

Okay. That’s not true.

Bennett is a gentleman, but he doesn’t give a shit if he embarrasses me in front of witnesses. The only reason he hasn’t is because he’s a patient man and knows when he’s being taunted.

I am all about that life.

Pushing Bennett Jameson’s boundaries is what I live for.

Bennett blinks slowly, as if I’ve bored him into a coma. I shrug, a slow smile teasing at my lips right before I yell for his twin brother. “Drew! Come shove me over the—”

Bennett’s hand clamps over my mouth, his stare full of barely controlled anger, when he grits out a firm, “No.”

After he releases my mouth, I notice a tremble in his arms while his hands clench at his sides.

A cautious woman would stop messing with him at this point.

I’m not that woman.

“Count me down then?” I negotiate, flashing Paul, the guy securing my harness, a wink. “You gotta participate somehow, BJ. This is our last event as a crew. If you’ve forgotten, I’m finally graduating from college.” It only took me five years to graduate with a master’s degree since my grad program was only a year long. I enjoyed the entire college experience, but more than that, I adored the man in front of me. I couldn’t leave him after four years; I needed more time.

Bennett’s hardened expression never wavers, even after calling him BJ—a nickname he hates. “You’re not jumping,” he clarifies.

I reach out, intending to soothe him by cupping that ticking steel jaw, but he takes a step back, and I’m left with a buzzing fury idling between us. I push down a frustrated sigh. Bennett is notoriously stingy with his affection. And touching—unless absolutely necessary—is against his rules.

It doesn’t stop me, though.

“Not only am I jumping,” I correct him, “but I’m jumping with my eyes closed.” I force my eyebrows up and down a bit. I’m sure it looks ridiculous, but that’s okay. Too much seriousness will set him off. I want to aggravate him, not piss him off and make us both miserable.

His low growl rumbles between us.

And… playtime is over. “Tell you what, Bennett, I—”

“Swear to God, Aspen—” my brother, Fenn, interrupts, “—if you don’t jump, I will push you off this bridge myself. It’s too fucking early to deal with yours and Bennett’s drama. You wanted to jump, let’s do it.”

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