Page 112 of Rebel Summer

His hands slipped to the back of my neck and pulled my mouth to his. The tug and slide of his lips tangling with mine sparked a fire low in my belly. There was no hesitation on my part. I met fire with fire.

Growing impatient with our position, Dax’s hands found my hips, lifting and pulling me across the seat before settling me across his lap. I pressed in close. My hands, now free to wander, slid up his shoulders before slipping to the back of his head, losing themselves in the curls at the base of his neck. We were insatiable, giving in to the thing we’d both denied ourselves for so long.

He pulled back slightly, his lips wandering across my jawline before I pulled his mouth back on mine. His arms pressed and cradled me closer while my body relished in the feeling of being completely cocooned in his arms. Those arms that had protected and defended me all summer long.

There was something about being with Dax in this moment that calmed my nerves and eased my fears. And then I realized why I hadn’t been nervous to be in this car with him. To be risking this moment with him. Because with him, I was safe to fall. I had always been safe to fall. Safe to be less than perfect. The feeling was both addicting and liberating. There was a power in feeling safe with someone–safe to make mistakes and to be completely yourself. Safe to trust someone that much.

We’d been trying all night to not get caught. Who knew that getting caught would be the best part?

As if the universe had heard my bold thought, flashes of blue and red lit up our cozy oasis. A tap on our window had us pulling apart, blinking in confusion, me still on Dax’s lap and his hands around my waist.

“What in the—” Beau stood, gaping at us, as he began to yell. His words were muffled by the closed door between us, but we had no trouble interpreting his meaning.

He was ticked.

Biology Class

Day 49

Mr. Gray began his lecture at two minutes past the hour. It wasn’t unusual for Dax to be late. I slouched in my seat, my hand holding up my chin, and kept my gaze forward. Our conversation from yesterday ran through my mind on a constant shuffle.

The words I had said on repeat.

He never came.

Beau flipped on the light in a large room at the police station. A low hum sounded before the small island’s version of a jail lit up in fluorescent lights. The room boasted two small holding cells tucked side by side against the wall. They were cage-like and gave the impression of sturdy chicken wire wrapped around all sides. Honestly, it looked like something anybody could order off the internet. Each cell had a twin-sized bed with a questionable blanket and pillow sitting skewed on top and a metal toilet right there in the open room.

The cell on the right looked like it had been used more as a storage room than to hold prisoners. Boxes, old books, and a couple of dusty printers that looked like they’d come directly from the 1990s lined the floor and bed. Directly across from the holding cells was a large desk with a tidy stack of papers, a computer, and a plaque that said Officer Beau Palmer.

“Are you serious?” Dax asked, after we had a chance to soak in our immediate future.

“I had four calls from the retirement center alone, telling me about a car sighting, and at least seven other calls from people around the community.”

“How about we just —“ Dax began.

“Nope!” Beau held up his hand in front of Dax’s face. “You guys dragged me out of bed at three in the morning for something as dumb as this. I’ll be doing paperwork all day tomorrow, and I’ll probably still be taking calls all night.”

It appeared that Beau was still grumpy.

As if on cue, Beau’s phone began to ring. He picked it up, glanced at it, and groaned before silencing the ring.

“Sorry you got dragged into this, Ivy,” Beau said. “But if I make him stay, I’ve got to make you stay too.”

“It was my idea. I should be the one staying.”

Seriously. Why wasn’t I worried? This whole thing still felt like it was some grand adventure. I was still on PROBATION from the last time I screwed up. This was serious stuff. But also, I just had the best kiss of my life.

So…

That was probably where the wires were getting crossed.

“Alright, pick your cell,” Beau said, striding forward to the first cell without all the boxes and shoving a key in the lock. “And yes, you are sleeping here tonight. I’m that annoyed.”

The door opened with a squeak and a clank. He moved to the next and tried all seven keys on his chain before kicking the cage in frustration.

“Shouldn’t you have a keypad or something?” Dax asked, his arms folded and amusement pouring out of him. “Can’t every halfway decent criminal pick locks nowadays?”

Beau turned toward his friend. “Can you?”

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