Page 30 of The Rebel of Raleigh High
He smirks. Hair tousled, skin pale, eyes as dark as sin. His mouth twitches as he breathes steadily down his nose. “I have a brother. A little brother. He’s in care right now. I want to be his legal guardian when I turn eighteen, but I need to impress the crap out of Darhower first. I’m asking for your help.”
So, there is a reason behind this. I knew there had to be, but I didn’t expect it to be this. He has a little brother, and he wants to take care of him. I just…I can’t picture it. Not for a second. Alex doesn’t exactly give off the responsible, stand-in-father kind of vibe.
“I have seven months to get my shit together. If you sign off on my lesson sheet twice a week, that’d be a huge step in the right direction.”
I laugh, massaging the pads of my fingers into my forehead. Seems I’ve developed a bastard of a headache all of a sudden. “Sign off on the lessons? Say you’ve done them when you actually haven’t? Right. So, you want me to lie for you. What are you gonna do when you have to sit the end of year music exam, genius?”
A secret, amused smile makes it all the way to the corners of his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve got it handled.”
“This is some fucking bullshit, Alex.” If he doesn’t register the frustration and annoyance in my voice, then he’s mentally fucking compromised. He’s been wasting my time, playing some sort of weird game with me ever since he decided to climb into my car, and I don’t know why. Whatever his reasoning, I’m sick of it.
Another round of thunder growls in the distance. “Fine. Just go. I’ll sign off on your lessons. Whatever you want me to do. Let’s just minimize contact as much as possible. I’m not willing to make my life any harder than it already is.”
He stares at me, unblinking. His eyes run me through like dark blades. “I think you’ll change your mind about that one, Silver.”
Exasperated, I get up, hurriedly putting away my guitar. My fingers find the catches on my hard case, but it takes three attempts to close them. “I don’t understand what your game plan is here, but you’re not making any sense. You stood there in the bathrooms the other day and told me in no uncertain terms that you weren’t interested in me. But by the way you’re talking now, it sure as hell doesn’t sound that way.” I continue to fluster, snatching the other guitar from him and sliding into the gig bag, zipping it up in quick, angry movements.
“How does it sound to you, Silver?” The timbre of his voice mimics the thunder, gravel, rough, deep enough to make me quake.
Rounding on him, my chest rising and falling way too quickly, I ball my hands into fists, fighting the urge to scream. “Like you realized it might be fun to try and mess with me. Like you saw a broken, vulnerable person, just trying to get through her last shitty, miserable days of high school, and you thought to yourself, “Hmm, graduation’s a long way off, Alex. Maybe you should toy with that girl as a source of entertainment to stem your own selfish fucking boredom.”
He stands perfectly still, frozen in place. The only small movement he makes is that of his shoulders rising slowly. As always, he appears annoyingly unaffected by what I’ve just said to him. His gaze is as hard as ever, impenetrable and distant. For one insane, awful moment, I think I’m actually going to pick up one of Dad’s barely used tools and smash him over the head with it. That would be satisfying, at least, and I’d feel a little relieved for a moment before the remorse kicked in.
“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” I snap. “Nothing touches you. Nothing reaches you. You’re… you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“You’re a void, Alex. A vast, beautiful fucking black hole that sucks everything into it and gives nothing back. Ever. Even the goddamn daylight can’t escape you. A dark cloud follows you wherever you go. It’s impossible to miss. Youseeeverything. Youjudgeeveryone. You think youknoweverything. And, underneath all of that, youfeelnothing.”
For the very first time, a small flicker of emotion flashes over his features. I haven’t angered him, though. His composure doesn’t falter even for a heartbeat. He simply looks…confused. With careful, measured, even steps, he moves towards me, and a kernel of fear begins to take root inside me. What…what the hell is he going to do?
“I have a temper,” he grinds out. “A bad one. I had to master it a long time ago, otherwise it was going to master me. So, yeah. I’m not exactly the most reactive person you’ll ever meet. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on in here,” he says, tapping the side of his head. “I’m not aloof. I’m not cold. I’m not distant. I’m learning. And I feeleverything, Silver.” He pauses, an unfamiliar edge of uncertainty smoldering in his eyes. It looks like he’s battling with himself over what he should say next. He speaks quickly, then, rushing the words out, as if he wants to expel them from his body before he can change his mind.
“You’re right. I told you that you were a means to an end in the bathroom, that I wasn’t interested in you, and that wasn’t true. I am not trying to use you as a source of entertainment, though. I’m trying to figure you out. I’m intrigued by you.”
“Why the hell would I intrigue you, for Christ’s sake?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re still standing. Because, after everything you went through, you didn’t fucking break.”
He’s so close to me now. Closer than he’s ever been before. I’m unsteady on my feet, and my heart is rioting against my ribs, as though it’s trying to break free from its cage and flee the scene of a crime.
“Strength is drawn to strength, Silver, and I think there’s a chance that you might be the strongest person I have ever met.” His warm breath skates over my collar bone and the shiver that follows doesn’t just slide over my skin—it sinks deep down into the marrow of my bones. With excruciatingly slow movements, Alex reaches out a tentative hand and takes hold of the curl of hair that’s fallen free from my sloppy ponytail. He gently winds it around the end of his finger, pupils blown, his lips parted, fixated on his finger and my hair that’s wrapped around it. He whispers the words that follow. “It isn’t just that. I also happen to think that you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever witnessed with my own two eyes. Iamwatching you just as much as you’re watching me…and I don’t trust myself to look away.”
Ho…ly….shiiiiiiit.
I am seventeen-years-old. The world is changing around me so rapidly that I worry I might never find my place in it. Just a few short years ago, I was so sure of everything. I loved boybands, and horses, drawing and playing my guitar. Then, almost overnight, nothing was certain anymore, and things I thought I knew to be true no longer were. It was as though I was a caterpillar, happy, learning and growing, and then without warning I began to transform into something else. There has been no chrysalis, though, no cocoon to hide away inside, safe, until I’m ready to reemerge into the world, new and fresh and complete. No, all of my transformations have taken place out in the open, in public, for all to see, and the process has been horrific.
In the past year alone, I’ve had to endure more trauma and heartache than most people are asked to endure in their entire lifetimes. Something precious was taken from me, ripped away, stolen with greedy hands and whiskey-soaked breath, and I felt it inside me—that bottomless, dark chasm that swallowed any hope of me ever having a normal teenage life. I’ve believed, since the moment I rolled over onto my side on the bathroom floor of Leon Wickman’s father’s bathroom with my insides all torn up, blood making the insides of my thighs sticky, the smell of copper hanging heavy in the air, that I would never be capable of feeling affection for a guy ever again.
And yet…
Here I am, seventeen-years-old, unbroken…and the way Alex Moretti is looking at me now has kindled something in the hollow of my chest that I thought had perished.
Alex swallows, his eyes on fire, and I can read his intentions on his face: he’s going to kiss me. He’s going to press his mouth on mine, and he’s going to bury his hands into my hair, and he’s going to steal my breath, and my heart and the tattered remnants of my fragile soul…and I’m going to let him, because I’m intrigued by him, too, and—
“Get out.”
I hate the words even as I whisper them, but I can’t. I can’t fucking do this.
Alex’s eyes, half lowered, open wide at the command. He immediately takes a step back. Next thing I know, he’s sliding on his leather jacket, which has been sitting on Dad’s workbench this entire time, and he’s leaving the garage. He swings his leg over his motorcycle and then sits there for a second, staring at me. “I’m not going to force you to fall for me, Silver. You’ve already been forced to do too much. But don’t blame me if I try and change your mind.”
“You’ve got more chance of pulling down the moon.” My throat throbs, aching against the words, but they’re the truth.
Alex turns the key in the ignition, and the motorcycle’s engine roars to life. The single beam of its headlight feels like a tractor beam, pulling me toward him, tugging at the very cells of my body, but I stay absolutely still as he backs down the driveway, out onto the street, and rides off into the rain.
