Page 43 of Rebel
“Oh.”
“Yeah.Oh.”
We sit in silence for a while, until there’s nothing left of the sun, sunken beyond the distant fields, leaving behind nothing but the tiniest glimmer of light. “You can go. In the morning, I’ll drive you back to town,” Rebel says abruptly.
“What? You’re just gonna let me go?”
“Yeah. Why not? Everything else is fucked. Hector and Raphael would somehow find a way out of being arrested, anyway. They’d bribe the fucking judge. Or just kill him, too. Your testimony would be pointless. And after all those people in that grocery store…” Rebel leans back on his elbows, crossing his feet at his ankles. “After all of those random people being killed because of me, I don’t particularly want your family’s blood on my hands, too. You should just catch the Greyhound back to Seattle.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Somehow, it feels like this might be a trick. But then again, Rebel looks absolutely devastated. Why would he bother putting on such a convincing act, if he’s only just going to tell me he was joking in the morning? That doesn’t strike me as his style. Doesn’t strike me as the sort of head game he would play. “Do you mean it?”
“Sure. At least I’ll have a vaguely clear conscience where you’re concerned, if the five-o do come calling.”
I hug my knees up to my chin, tears stinging at my eyes. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’m gonna start sobbing and I won’t be able to stop. He’s letting me go. Tomorrow, I get to go home to my family. “Thank you, Jamie.”
He bristles at that, doesn’t like it, I can tell, but I’m thinking of what he said in the hallway before. Jamie was an honorable man. And him dropping this whole thing, setting me free like he said he would, is an honorable thing to do. Far more Jamie than Rebel.
We sit in silence for a long time, until we start to see stars peeking through the deepening blue of the night sky. “I used to bring all of my dates up here to see the stars,” he eventually says, pointing up at them. “Never brought anyone to see the sunset, though. That was always something I did alone.”
I can imagine him as a young teenager, scrambling up here, sitting and watching for hours. I can imagine him bringing girls up here, too. Making out with them under the blanket of stars. Doing much worse, no doubt. “I’m sure they were all incredibly beautiful. And incredibly grateful,” I say, allowing a hint of sarcasm to pepper my tone.
“Sograteful,” he answers. “Can’t blame them, really. Being invited up here was like winning a golden ticket to the chocolate factory.” His face is deadpan, though I can tell he’s joking. “As far as them all being beautiful, you’re probably right there. But you, sugar…just so you know, you’d win the title for Most Beautiful Woman Louis James Aubertin Ever Snuck Up Onto The Roof hands down.”
I can feel two hot patches flaming on my cheeks—embarrassment. I hug my knees tighter to me, not sure if I want to look at him or not. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Flirt with me. Say stuff like that. Proposition me.”
Rebel laughs, unashamed and, unlike me, unembarrassed. “Because I told you, sugar. I like you. I’d definitely try and fuck you if we’d have met under any other circumstances.”
“You do that a lot? Try and fuck a lot of girls?”
“No. Never. Just the ones I think might make pliable bedmates.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’d be pliable?”
“I think, despite how resilient you are when you need to be, you’d let the right person have control over you if the situation presented itself.”
“You mean that I’d let someone dominate me?”
“And you’d fucking love it.”
“And you assume that you’re the right person?”
“Oh, sugar. I’m theonlyperson who could dominate you.”
I want to laugh. I want to laugh right in his face, but the arrogance that’s normally present when he says something sexual isn’t there right now. He’s being totally and utterly serious.
“I don’t understand you,” I whisper.
“Are you supposed to?” he whispers back.
“It’s how my brain works. I’m studying psychology so I can understand everyone I ever meet. I like knowing how people work. What makes them tick. But you…”
Rebel smiles. It’s a kick-you-in-the-guts kind of smile that I can imagine a boy from Alabama wearing. Slowly, he reaches over and pulls at the lace on my shoe. “Don’t bother trying to get inside my head, sugar. It’s a dark and fucking scary place. Even I don’t want to be here most of the time. You change your mind about the sex, though, and we can talk.”
REBEL
