Page 2 of Sins of a Rebel

“He should be back any minute, though. He ran to the bank before they closed.”

Tysin nods, gazing out the open French doors overlooking the patio leading down to the dock near the water. The smell of the salt water lingers in the air, mixed with the familiar scent of coconut.

It’s early on a Saturday morning. Despite it being summer, the locals and tourists haven’t hit the beach yet, making for a quiet morning at Breaking Waves. I’m surprised to see Tysin here, especially after playing at Whiskey Barrel last night.

Tysin is the lead guitarist for A Rebels Havoc, alongside my brother, Madden, and their best friend, Brix. They’ve made a name for themselves around Carolina Beach and the local towns, playing shows on the weekends during summer.

“What are you doing here so early?”

“I need to talk to Garrett about a friend who’s gonna help me fix my motorcycle.”

He steps around me, resting his body against the wood counter spanning the wall of the store, and crosses his arms in front of him. He glances around the small cabana-style shop catering to surfers and beachgoers.

Tysin’s hair is longer on top, disheveled and sticking up in all different directions. He’s dressed in a dark red T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He looks relaxed and carefree. Never mind the fact he’d fit in better in a motorcycle shop, but something about the contrast appeals to me even more.

“I guess I’ll just wait here with you until he returns…” He trails off, getting a glimpse of my swimsuit underneath my neon-purple tank top. I opted for my torn denim shorts, hanging low on my hips, showing off the tan I’ve been working on all summer.

It isn’t that I mind having him here or that he’s watching me.

If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the opposite. Something about having his eyes on me makes me feel things I haven’t felt with any other man.

“How am I supposed to focus with you standing there looking at me like that?”

“Like what? What am I doing?” He holds his hand to his chest, feigning innocence.

He manages to keep a straight face, but I’m no fool.

“You know what you’re doing.” I flash a smug smile. “You can’t turn your charm on me and expect me not to see right through it. You know the effect you have on women, Sin. I’ve seen them around you before,” I joke, noting the nickname given to him by his adoring fans.

What was once excitement turned into unease coiling tight in my stomach at the mention of him with another woman. I've always hated watching him give them attention when I wanted it on me. Just last night, before they went on stage, I saw him flirting with another girl.

I met up with my best friend, Ivy, at Whiskey Barrel. She’s back in town for the summer, so to welcome her home, we hit up their show. After they wrapped, a line of Havoc Harlots waited for any of the guys to bite.

I didn’t stick around long enough to watch who they took home. Although, judging by the phone call from Ivy this morning when she woke up to find Brix passed out on the couch, it’s safe to say the fun didn’t stop there.

Tysin’s brows tightened at the change in my tone. “Doesn’t mean those women have the same effect on me. It takes someone special to do that.”

I would’ve expected his retort to be met with one of his toe-curling smirks, leaving me shedding my worries and roping me back into him. It worked, except there was no smirk to follow.

No, his face is determined, unyielding, making it clear he meant every word.

“Don’t lie. You love their attention as much as they love giving it to you.”

He pushes off the counter and takes me by surprise when he steps forward, eliminating the distance between us and pinning me against the hard wood. He leaves me with nowhere to go, not that I’d want to.

“What do you know about what I like?”

His nostrils flare, his lips parting.

Me? I’m stuck, frozen in place at the sight of him mere inches away from my face. All thoughts are out the window when I inhale a deep breath and am met with the captivating smell of his cologne. It’s an interesting woodsy scent mixed with the smell of fresh linen.

I find myself leaning in closer, wanting more of him.

Isn’t that always the case, though? I can never get enough of Tysin anytime he’s around.

“You’re right,” I mutter, catching him off guard. “I don’t know what you like or what you want.”

His brow furrows.

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