Page 40 of Rebel Summer

“Let’s see what I remember about you. I know you used to like reading textbooks, but I don’t have any of those, unless you count the Lego guidebook.” His hopeful gaze was shut down with my annoyed look.

“Sunset Harbor doesn’t have a Key Club, or Beach Club, or some sort of Happy Smiles Club for you to be president of, so that wouldn’t work.”

“There’s no such thing as that club,” I interjected.

He went on, unfazed and enjoying himself. “I would have you join the Beach Clean-up Club, but you’re probably already a member.”

I was. At least, I used to be. But he didn’t need to know that.

“I’ve done stuff, okay?” I broke in, my hands across my chest. I wasn’t completely sure why I felt like I needed to prove this to Dax. Because I didn’t.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“No. You’ll just make fun of me.”

“Tell me you didn’t TP a house.”

I scoffed. “It wasn’t just once; it was several times. And we never got caught.”

His mouth dropped open. “Our part-time rent-a-cop didn’t catch you hooligans?”

I shot him an irritated look.

“What’s another thing?” he asked, sitting on the counter, facing me. “You’ve got me curious now.”

I shouldn’t tell Dax anything when he was just going to use it against me, but for a small moment, this was reminiscent of what I felt like sitting next to him in biology all those years ago.

Completely off balance.

A thrill for a girl whose life had always been so measured and calculated. If I got these grades and took these classes, I’d get into this college. If I smiled and shook hands and perfected the art of small talk, my dad wouldn’t be embarrassed of me. If I got a doctorate and taught at the highest level possible, my dad would have something to brag about at parties. A structured life of cause and effect.

Dax always surprised me. So much of our time and conversations had been burned into my memories because they were never what I expected. He was never what I expected. Just when I had him pegged as lazy, he’d pick up the scalpel. When I thought he didn’t care about biology, he’d point out something that he thought was interesting. Just when I thought he was turning a corner, he was in the principal’s office for setting off the fire alarms. He lived his life by his own set of rules, and that fascinated me.

“Me and some friends sometimes put bags of goldfish on porches. Then we’d ring the doorbell and run away.”

His eyes furrowed. “Like the crackers? For kids?”

“No, like a bag with water in it and a goldfish swimming around inside.”

Confusion etched his brow. “Why?”

“For that reaction right there.” I smiled, pointing at him.

He brandished a reluctant smile. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to handle what I’ve got for you.”

“I already crashed into a building, so take it down a few notches from that.”

I could almost feel the wheels turning inside his head as he strode to the counter. He took a large invoice pad and ripped the last blank page out. He grabbed a pen and started writing.

Unfortunately for him, he also left his phone unattended on the counter. While I was waiting there, bored, I added a few songs to his playlist while he was none the wiser.

“Okay,” Dax began, turning to face me. “Let’s not get confused. I want the Lego car finished, but if you’ve got a hankering for a good time, who am I to stop you? There are a few things I’d be willing to trade hours, for the simple pleasure of watching you do them.”

I attempted to peer over his muscled shoulder to determine my fate.

“Number one…get a tattoo. Fifty hours.”

“What?!” I pulled his arm, trying to grab the paper, but he moved it just out of my reach.

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