Page 98 of Rebel Summer

“If teaching is what you love, why can’t you teach at a high school? Or at a community college?”

I paused. “It’s embarrassing, for one. I have a doctorate. I can’t teach high school math.”

“So, your noble calling has limitations on whose lives you can change?”

I sighed. “Listen, I probably said too much. There are lots of people who get jobs. Lots who love the research. Sometimes it’s hard to see the forest through the trees. Every student of academia feels like this at some point. I just need to put my head down and do this next job, and maybe something will open up.”

“When do you go back to Nashville?”

His fingers stopped playing with my hair, as if remembering the very real barrier between us. He shifted, edging slightly away from me.

I had just over two weeks left on the island. And once I procured secret permission from the clinic to use their ambulance (still working up the courage to ask about that one), I’d be done. After I…tagged a building. That, combined with my long hours at the cafe every morning, and I’d be finishing up my hours within two weeks. Easy peasy.

And then I’d leave.

Dax still wouldn’t have his Lego car, and that was no longer sitting right with me, but maybe I could come back for a few weekends and help.

“Two weeks if I get the courage to steal an ambulance and spray paint a building.”

After a long moment, Dax sat up, carefully extracting his arm from my shoulders. “Guess I’d better get the professor home, then.”

He started the boat with rigid shoulders—an uneasy vibe humming between us. I still sat in the seat we’d both occupied a moment ago, hating the distance. Resenting the fact that my body was chilly on this Florida ocean and he was no longer there to warm it.

“Can I drive?” I asked, working hard to keep a normal tone to my voice.

Dax seemed relieved at the question breaking into the weirdness and sent a slow smile my way. “Not on your life.”

“I’ll give you back one hour.”

“You might be the worst mathematician I’ve ever met.” He rolled his eyes and motioned me over. “This is a freebie, Books. Don’t get used to it.”

He stood, and our bodies did a dance, moving around each other, his hand at my waist guiding me to the seat in front of the wheel. Suddenly, the boat hit a dip in the ocean, and I lurched forward, my foot tripping on the long rope that laid in a heap in the aisle. His hands were around me in seconds, our bodies now meshed together in a tangle as I gripped his shoulders for balance. He didn’t pull away. His gaze dropped to my lips, and though he inched closer, he didn’t partake.

“Chicken,” I whispered, knowing this idea was bad but too far gone to care anymore.

Something snapped in his eyes, brandishing a fire that sizzled and burned. I held my breath as he grew closer, but his lips bypassed my mouth, settling somewhere near my ear. The heat from his breath spread like wildfire down my body. “You want to talk about opening my heart up? Fine. The kiss outside your cafe the other night was the hottest kiss I’ve ever had. I’ve been dropping tools in my garage ever since because my hands don’t work right because I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t get you out of my head. But you’re leaving. And I don’t kiss girls who are leaving. No matter how much I might want to.”

With that, he propelled me gently to the seat where, in a daze, I proceeded to drive us back to the dock. I didn’t remember arriving. We were just there. His hands gripped my arms as I stepped off the boat, pulling me forward as I tried to find my stride. But my legs faltered, and my heart lurched. Dax had completely disarmed me, thrown me off balance yet again.

I needed Tennessee. I needed the space between me and my dad. This job was everything I had worked toward for the past ten years. So much of my blood, sweat, and tears had gone into finishing this degree—into becoming someone worth talking about.

But what did that even mean? Was it awards and accolades? Getting published in journals and magazines? Earning the title of professor and teaching future generations? Certainly, those were all good things. But if, at the end of the day, I went home to an empty house and my published works sat untouched on dusty shelves, was it truly important?

After falling into bed that night, my ears perked up at the sound that I was waiting for. I had heard it so often by now I could almost detect a rhythm that was familiar, but it was over too quickly. He definitely had to knock using both hands for the beat. I’d have to remember to record it next time.

DAX

Any guesses yet?

ME

I need a hint.

DAX

If you haven’t gotten it by now, I can’t help you.

My parents’ BBQ is tomorrow. You coming?

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