Page 126 of Rebel Summer

“I’m sorry you got in trouble,” he said, his eyes sweeping across my face as if he was memorizing every freckle.

“I’d do community service with you any day.”

He grinned. “My kind of woman.”

I took a breath. “Dax…I like you so much it scares me. I’m worried I won’t be enough for you. I’m worried that my brain has gone to mush, and I can see myself forgetting all about teaching because I just want to sweep the floors in your shop so I can hang out with you. You’ve jumbled me up in all the best ways.”

His smile slayed me just then. As did the way his hands slid up my sides to land on my shoulders and neck. As did the kisses he wielded at that spot just below my ear. And along my jawline. Until I captured his mouth with mine.

When he’d had his fill, he stepped back.

“Books, I was gone for you in high school and it took about ten seconds of you being back to realize not much had changed.”

It was too much. The sweetness. He was too much. But he wasn’t done.

He leaned in closer, “So gone that I would clean the shop bathroom every day before you got there.”

A laugh sputtered out of me. “I knew it.”

“And I’d leave my shop doors open to blow in dirt so the floors would be dirty enough to sweep every day. I ate at the cafe more times this summer than I have my entire life. I wanted you by me. But I knew you were leaving and so I kept trying to deny it and push you away, just like everybody else in my life.”

I brushed at a strand of his hair on his forehead.

“Books, I’m not good with words. I hadn’t realized how much I had shut people out of my life after Mason left. I made it my business not to need anyone again. And then you showed up and I suddenly needed every second with you.”

“It was incredibly annoying,” he said, as he kissed my nose and made me laugh.

“You’re exactly who I want—who I’ve always wanted.” He glanced down, running a hand through his hair. “I just never thought I could have you.”

“I think you’re pretty good with words,” I said, smiling up at him.

“I’m better without words, though,” he said, his nose brushing softly against mine.

“My kind of talk,” I said. “And what about?—”

His impatient lips interrupted mine, making me forget everything else.

Day 1

I lay dazed and flat on the playground wood chips, gasping for a breath that was stalled somewhere in my lungs. Ten seconds earlier, I had been running up the equipment stairs toward the slide, ready to race down again, when an older boy with messy red hair and freckles had beat me to the slide and shoved me out of his way.

Except, out of his way on the crowded landing meant a five foot drop down the opening of the playground set. I fell backward, arms flailing and banging my head against the fireman pole until the ground met my back.

Once the breath came back to my lungs, tears leaked out of my eyes. It wasn’t the pain as much as feeling hurt that someone would be mean enough to push me in the first place. I was careful not to cry out, but instead I sat up and wiped my eyes while searching for any sign of my parents–though even at five years old, I knew the Fourth of July breakfast going on across the park would have their attention.

A dark haired boy wearing a blue and red Spiderman shirt squatted before me. I blinked up at him, my eyes adjusting to the harsh sunlight behind his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, sniffling and wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

“He pushed you,” he said, pointing at the red-haired boy laughing raucously and chasing another boy around the perimeter of the playground.

The boy in front of me looked familiar.

“I’m Dax. I’ve seen you at my school before.”

I shrugged. “I’m Ivy.”

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