Page 85 of The Rebel
Still, I couldn’t help but mock him about taking the morning off of school and missing his classes.
“You never know, I might take the whole day off,” he pondered.
“What! Outrageous,” I said. “What will you do?”
“I’ll go sit with Volley and watch the flight tracker and see just where your plane is,” he said.
You know, it was ridiculous how that set my heart into a tremor of earth shattering proportions, like 8 or 9 on the Richter scale. And it left me speechless and a little bit misty eyed.
I didn’t know that anything a boy could say could make you melt into a sappy, quivering mess. Yep, I was tearing up before we’d even gotten to the airport.
“You’re not supposed to cry on the first date,” Jade said.
“Im not crying,” I said, blotting at my eyes. “It’s allergies.”
“You had crab for breakfast?” Jade joked.
I punched his arm, but he quickly grabbed it and held my hand for the rest of the drive. Or until he needed to use it for the transmission.
As Jade had traveled this route before, I appreciated all his knowledge about international travel, border control and the pitfalls of an eight hour flight in economy class, though my legs weren’t as long as his, so I might survive a little easier.
“Gah,” he sighed as we looked at the departure board and knew it was time for me to go through customs. “It’s killing me that I’m not coming with you.” He wrapped his arms around me so firmly that I wondered if he’d misjudged his own strength.
“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered, rubbing my hands up his arms.
“I should have brought my passport,” he said in such a way that indicated he would have made the impulsive decision to come with me if he did have it.
A flutter of butterflies filled my stomach. “I’ll be sure to bring you back some Jaffa cakes,” I said.
“Yes. All the Jaffa cakes, please!” He laughed and kissed my forehead before his eyes glazed over with a look of longing. “Tell me three weeks isn’t long.”
“Three weeks isn’t long,” I repeated in a monotone of insincerity.
“You should go,” Jade said, though he hadn’t released me, not even a little.
“I’m going,” I said, though I wasn’t attempting to move from his embrace.
“Just one kiss,” he said. “Or you’ll miss your flight.”
His green eyes scanned me like he was taking a mental photograph, memorizing every facet of my face. A tingle vibrated through me, that feeling of being on a pedestal, onhispedestal, making me dizzy and...adored.
“We’ll talk everyday,” he said and I was about to agree but my words were null and void when his mouth claimed mine, a fiery kiss both urgent and sweet, tender yet possessive. I had no doubts that Jade Sinclair was stealing my heart away.
But that was fine—his Little Rebel was offering no resistance whatsoever.
––––––––
I woke up to find myself in London, England with Paris and Mom hovering over me. Too bad that I’d only had four or so hours sleep, they both demanded hugs to confirm that I was not an apparition.
“We have an early start,” Mom said, meaning Paris had an early start, “but you rest up a little more and Dad will bring you to the courts later. We’re so glad you’re here, honey.”
“Yeah,” Paris said, his smile wide, “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you, kid.”
I poked my tongue out at him. “Same. What time’s your match?”
“It’s the second match on Court 2,” he said, “against Philippe, my doubles partner in France.” That was the thing about tennis tournaments, unless you were playing the first match, you didn’t know your exact start time. A match could be finished in under an hour, or it could drag on for three hours. That’s why nutrition and warm-ups were so important, sometimes you had to be ready in an instant. There was one time when it looked like the match before Paris’s was going to last at least two hours, but suddenly one player was injured and withdrew. In fifteen minutes, Paris had to quickly prepare to be on court.
“You look different,” Mom butted in. “Like we’ve been away three weeks and you’re suddenly all grown up.”
