Page 44 of Rebel Summer

DAX

I think we need a secret knock. Me and my brother used to have one. It came in handy.

ME

For what?

DAX

In case your music is too loud, or I need a snack… Lots of reasons.

ME

I think we’re good.

DAX

Your loss. I take my shower at 6:00 am. The hot water runs out in seconds if we both shower at the same time.

ME

If you ever tick me off, that’s very good information to have.

DAX

Ivy…

ME

Sweet dreams

I laughed to myself and tossed my phone on the coffee table before flopping myself down on the couch. The rest of my evening was spent lounging in that exact position, mindlessly watching TV and feeling more alive than I had in years. Even watching TV felt foreign. I was now determined to make the best of this summer on the island. Cat had already informed me of the pick-up volleyball games that happened once a week on the beach, not to mention that the Fourth of July was coming up. I hadn’t had the luxury of a summer break in nearly six years, and I was planning to take full advantage—in between working double-time to pay Dax back for the extra hours, of course.

Court sentencing or no, this summer was looking up for Ivy Brooks.

Two days.

That was how long we lasted getting along in our shared space.

It was the music that finally did it. For all his talk about noisy neighbors, Dax sure was sure generous with the volume button in his own home. But more than that, I felt like he was only doing it to get under my skin. Actually, I knew he was.

And still…it broke me.

It was 6 am on Wednesday when the whiny, soulful cry of Bob Dylan filtered through my walls. How did I know it was Bob Dylan? I held my phone up next to the wall and used an app to identify the song. I tried banging on the wall above my headboard, which did absolutely nothing. When I heard his shower turn on, I stumbled into the bathroom and cranked my faucet as hot as it would go. A minute or two later, steam began to cloud the bathroom and I heard something akin to a yelp from next door followed by three loud raps on the wall. I pushed away thoughts of Dax in the shower but did have a case of the giggles off and on for the next five minutes while I made myself a cup of coffee.

Then the music was turned up even louder—with singing.

I attempted a few deep breaths. I was desperately trying to avoid conflict with him, but today was supposed to be a relaxing morning for me. The cafe had scheduled me for a day off, and I had planned to sleep in and then take a walk on the beach.

But the music.

I couldn’t read. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t listen to an audiobook. I couldn’t THINK about anything but my growing disdain for my new neighbor.

So, like the reasonable adult I was, I calmly walked (stormed) across our shared porch and banged on his door—but only because he probably wouldn’t hear a normal knock.

To my dismay, his door opened right away. Even the way he opened his door was smooth and casual. Smooth like the bare chest he currently wore with not a care in the world. Did I allow my gaze to trail downward?

Just a little bit. On accident.

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