Page 92 of Rebellious

“I love you,” she whispers.

I sigh; this morning is going to utter hell. “I love you too.”

Hanging up, I slam the phone on the counter.

“Was that your mom?”

Aspen’s voice startles me. “Uh, yeah. She was making sure we didn’t burn the house down.” I try to hide the lie with a smile.

“Ha! Did you tell her we hid the matches when we got here?”

I shake my head. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” She hops up on the counter, her bare legs tan against my white shirt.

I pour her a cup and dump a mountain of cream and sugar in before handing it over.

She takes the cup, blowing over the top. “You gonna tell me why you’re in a shitty mood, or should I guess?”

“I’m not in a bad mood,” I lie easily.

Aspen’s brows arch as she takes a sip of the fiery liquid. “See, if I didn’t know every facet of your moods, that lie would have worked.” She holds her palm out for me to high-five. “That lie was nicely done, sir.”

I grunt out a laugh and swat her hand away. “It’s not a lie. I’m fine.” And, apparently, making lying a habit.

“Oh, Bennett, Bennett, Bennett,” she chides me. “Don’t play this shit with me. I always get it out of you, eventually.”

I sigh. She’s right; she will get the truth eventually, but it could be years. However, my mother’s words still burn in the back of my throat. How does Aspen feel about me going with her?

“Fine,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee. “My mother called with some concerns.”

She cocks her head to the side. “Concerns like?”

Here goes nothing. “Concerns like me accepting a transfer to Kensington University.” I don’t need to tell her where the college is. She knows it’s in Boston.

“Oh,” she doesn’t seem shocked. “I didn’t realize you were serious about transferring.”

I tip my chin. “I think we both can agree this summer changed some things.”

She nods. “It did… and it didn’t.”

My eyes narrow. “How are things the same?”

She sighs, her body slumping in defeat. “Do you love me, Bennett?”

“Of course,” I respond with no hesitation.

She smiles, but it seems pained. “And I you,” she whispers. “That’s why I’m going to Boston, and you’re not coming with me.”

As if she hit me, I rear back. “What?”

She looks down into her cup like it holds the answers. “I don’t want you to come with me.”

I don’t understand. “Why?”

She sighs, her gaze lifting to mine. “Your mom is right.”

“I don’t care,” I clip, my voice taking on a hard edge. “You aren’t living in an unfamiliar state all alone.”

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