Page 10 of One Night Rebellion
Her jaw drops. “JT? You’ve been out till three in the morning with JT?”
“We went to Willowbrook.” That’s essentially a confession. No one goes to Willowbrook just to talk, after all.
But Karly surprises me. There’s no squealing, no gloating about fulfilling lifelong fantasies. All I’m getting from her is quiet concern.
“He can break your heart… He did before. And he never even knew it. How does this possibly work, Addie? Are you gonna tell him you’ve been in love with him for your whole fucking life?”
“I wasn’t in love with him. I had a crush on him—which is perfectly normal.” Even as I say it, I can hear the defensiveness creeping into my voice. It was way more than a crush. I’ve spent my whole life comparing every boy, every guy, and every man I’ve ever flirted with, talked to, or gone out with to JT. And every time they came up short. “We’re just testing the waters… this is… it’s different. We’re both fully grown and capable of making our own decisions.”
Karly is quiet for a minute, just watching me with that expression that is completely unreadable. She got that from her grandfather. You never know what the hell Ranger is thinking.
After a minute, she walks toward the kitchen. I hear the freezer door open and close, her rattling around in the drawer. Then she’s coming back into the living room with a pint of ice cream and two spoons. For as long as we’ve been friends, ice cream has been a big part of our problem-solving pattern.
“Are you in over your head?”
I start to deny it, but that’s a lie I can’t even tell myself. So I just nod. “Probably.”
“It’s good that you know it. But don’t you let him find out,” she insists, gesturing with her spoon. Around a mouthful of rocky road, she continues, “If there is any karma in this world, he will fall for you so fast and so hard he can’t even tell down from up.”
I take a bite of ice cream to avoid responding. I’m not that lucky. I have never been that lucky.
6
JT
It's been literal years since I've gone to church with my parents, but here I am, along with my little sister in the front pew of Bellehaven Baptist. It's been a revolving door of people welcoming me back into town, but there's one person I keep looking for.
Addie.
I guess it would make sense she wouldn't be here this morning. We were out until three o'clock in the morning, doing things we shouldn't be thinking about in church, but I'd still hoped to see her.
Glancing behind me, I see Malcolm, his fiancée, his mom, and Luke. No Addie though.
"What's got your attention back there?" Sierra asks, looking in the same direction as me.
"Nothing, just seeing who all is here. Isn't that what church is for?"
She huffs, rolling her eyes. "No, JT. Church is for worshipin' the Lord, not lookin' for the hook-up you had the night before."
"What the h—heck, Sierra. What are you talking about?"
She gives me a grin. "I might be a tween, JT, but we're all connected by phones and the internet. I know that might be hard for you Millennials to understand, but if people spot you in Willowbrook, they post you on Spotted in Bellehaven. Everybody, including the preacher, knows what you were up to last night."
The way she drags out the “i" in night rubs me the wrong way. "Nosy-ass busybodies."
"Did you really think that changed? Even I know that's never going to happen."
Just as I'm about to answer her, I notice someone rushing through the doors right before they close. It's Addie, wearing a dress that's too short to be legal in the house of the Lord, or maybe it's just me having impure thoughts where I shouldn't be.
Malcolm waves to her, and she rushes over. As she takes a seat, her eyes meet mine, and a memory of how those lips of hers felt under mine flows through my body. I tilt my chin in acknowledgement, and she offers me a smile.
Pastor Jenkins takes the pulpit, adjusting his glasses as he looks out over the congregation. "Today, brothers and sisters, I want to talk to you about the sins of the flesh. About how our bodies can lead us astray from the Lord's path."
I can't help the low chuckle that escapes me, earning a sharp elbow from Sierra. If only Pastor Jenkins knew just how well acquainted I'd become with certain aspects of the flesh last night—the way Addie's skin felt warm and soft beneath my hands, even through the barrier of our clothes. The memory sends heat coursing through me, which is definitely not appropriate for Sunday morning service.
Sierra shoots me a look that could kill. "Behave," she hisses under her breath.
I try to focus on the sermon, but my eyes keep drifting to Addie. Every time she shifts in her seat, every time she crossesher legs, I'm reminded of how she felt pressed against me in the front seat of my Mustang, windows fogged up, her breathing ragged against my ear.
