The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(101)
I sit on the bleachers inside Raleigh High’s gym, surrounded by three hundred other students, and I’m awed by the way that people are already somehow finding it in them to laugh. Yes, there are tears. Yes, there are hugs, and there are empty seats, but I also see the hope in people’s eyes, and I hear their words of encouragement and comfort. I feel a sense of community amongst my peers that I used to feel every day before I was trapped inside a bathroom with Jacob Weaving, and that…that is what enables me to sit straight, chin high, and endure the pain of what happened at our school two weeks ago.
Of course, it helps that I have someone here with me to hold my hand. Someone I didn’t see coming. According to the letter of the law, the person sitting next to me is still an adolescent, and for that I am eternally grateful; if the powers that be had seen him as an adult a little over a month ago, he’d currently be sitting in prison right now, and I would never have crossed paths with him. Perhaps more importantly, there’s a chance many more Raleigh students could have lost their lives when Leon Wickman stalked through these familiar hallways and opened fire. Who knows what could have happened. All I do know, is that when it counted, Alex Moretti was a man and he stepped up to the plate.
I nestle into his side, deeply inhaling, soaking up the scent of fresh pine needles and cold winter air. He smells like freedom, like the wind that whipped past us as he drove us here on his motorcycle, risking one last ride before the snows set in for the next few months. I used to hate the brutal, oppressive Washington winters, but now every time I step out into the snow and rain, I’m instantly reminded of the guy who swept into my life on the very first of Raleigh’s sleet flurries and altered my life forever. See, in truth, I’ve had three of those bombshell days. It’s not just the nightmare events that catch us unaware and unprepared. Mercifully, there are days, unremarkable days that seem to follow the status quo, that start out with lost keys and engine trouble, and detention…and then you see someone for the first time. You catch their face in profile, and you see the hint of a wicked smirk on their face, and it begins: you’re stumbling, tripping, losing your footing, and the world feels like it’s ending all over again. Ending the very best of ways, to start all over, fresh and anew, and you’re falling. But this time, falling isn’t so scary after all. You’re falling in a good way, and the journey over the edge of the cliff you were standing on is the turns out to be the most exhilarating ride of your life.
Alex presses his lips against my temple, kissing me softly, and my heart swells to the point of bursting. “How many more, Argento?” he rumbles into my ear.
I smile, laughing softly under my breath. “One less than yesterday.”
“Humor me.”
So, I humor him. “One hundred and thirty-two. One hundred and thirty-two more school days until we’re free.”
“But in between, there’s Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And New Year’s. And prom.”
I groan, turning my face into his chest, enjoying the deep, bassy rumble of his laughter. “God, let’s not talk about prom. Please.”
“Really? You don’t care about prom? I have it on good authority that someone’s planning on asking you.”
I look up into his face, arching an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
He nods, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I heard Gareth Foster on this phone with his mom in the parking lot. He said you have hair the color of spun gold. I could see his boner through his chinos.”
“Great. I’ve always had it bad for Gareth. He’s a great dancer. Maybe prom won’t be so bad after all.”
Alex wraps an arm around my shoulders, growling into my ear. He’s being playful, but the sound sends a shiver up my spine that isn’t entirely appropriate for this setting. “You realize I will cut anyone who even looks twice at you between now and the rest of time, right, Dolcezza?”
He makes me feel so good it fucking hurts. “I had a sneaking suspicion that might be the case,” I whisper back. “But it’s a girl’s prerogative to consider her options when prom comes around, Alessandro,” I say teasingly.
His eyes travel over my face, pausing on my nose, my chin, roaming over my cheekbones before they come to a stop on my eyes. Goddamnit. The way he looks at me, so serious, so…at peace, his face so full of emotion. I don’t know how to tolerate the intensity of his eyes sometimes. I feel like I’m about to crack apart and fall open in his hands at any moment. I would typically hide at this point, embarrassed and too overwhelmed by him, but I’ve been fighting that urge recently. I want to show up for these moments. I have to. There are people in this world who never have someone look at them the way Alex looks at me. I am one of the lucky ones.
“What? No, ‘It’s Alex,’” reprimand today,” I ask.
He pauses, his eyelids lowering just a little, and then he shakes his head. “No. Not today.” He speaks quietly, so only I can hear him. “She used to call me that. My mom. I’ve always hated it when someone else uses that name. Feels like they’re taking a razor blade and cutting down into me as deep as they can. But…not you, Argento. When you call me Alessandro…” He huffs, looking down at his hands, studying his own tattooed fingers that are interlaced with mine. “When you say it…it feels the same as when she said it. It feels like...” He seems to be battling with something too deep and too raw to process right now. He laughs, shaking himself out, shrugging out of the tense moment we just found ourselves in. “It feels good when you say it,” he says briskly. “That’s all.”