The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(90)

I cradle the side of her face, cupping her cheek in my hand, brushing my thumb against the line of her cheekbone. “Fuck,” I whisper. “Is it too much? Loving me? If the answer’s yes, then I’ll take you home right now. I’ll change schools. I’ll go, and you’ll never have to see me again. I don’t ever, ever wanna cause you pain.”

She catches hold of me by the wrist, turning toward me, a look of panic on her face. “No. Alex, no. Don’t you dare let me go. Loving you is the only thing that makes any sense right now. It’s everything else around us that’s fucked up beyond belief.”

I'm suddenly aware of someone standing next to us, on the other side of the bar. Paul's returned and he's got a fresh bottle of tequila in his hand. The roar of the bar comes crashing back down around us, people pressing in on all sides. “Looked like the one shot wasn't gonna cut it,” Paul says, smirking. “Thought you guys might appreciate some bottle service.” He gestures for our glasses. I give him mine, and Silver slides hers robotically toward him over the sticky countertop. Neither of us speaks as he tops us up and winks. “I know we just met,” he says, addressing Silver, “but I will tell you this. This guy has never brought a girl here. And I have never seen him look at anyone the way I just saw him looking at you. I had to run to the bathroom and throw up before I could bring this over. It was positively disgusting. That said, if he's done something to upset you, I already like you enough to take him out back and tan his tattooed hide for you. Just say the word, and it's as good as done.”

“Fuck you, asshole. You’re dreaming if you think you could,” I say, scowling at him halfheartedly.

Silver just smiles shyly. “It’s okay. He hasn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he did the opposite. He just made me really, really happy.”





SILVER





We drink, we dance, we talk, and then we dance some more. Once we’re sick of the noise in the bar, Alex takes me to a flat, dry spot on the hill behind the Rock, and we lie there for a couple of hours, freezing, looking up at the stars, talking about Ben and Max. The fresh air works wonders, and by the time the Uber pulls up in front of the house to drop me off, I’m stone cold sober. The windows are all in darkness, apart from one: Dad’s office window. He told me to be home by midnight, so it was safe to assume he was going to wait up for me and make sure I abided by his curfew. A wishful part of me had been hoping he might have just said fuck it and gone to bed, though. I see the blinds twitch and curse between my teeth.

I get out of the ride and let myself into the house, bracing for the litany of questions that will be coming any second now. In three…two…one…

“Silver?” he calls from his office.

Damn. No sneaking up the stairs unnoticed then. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then walk down the hall and stand in the doorway. “Hey, Dad.”

He takes his glasses off and sets them on his desk. “Three minutes past twelve, kiddo.”

“Are you gonna cane the back of my hands?” I say, grinning at him.

“For three minutes? I should think only a light beating’s in order. How was your night?”

I sigh, hiking my backpack up on my shoulder. “Ahh, y’know. Drunken debauchery. Half a bottle of tequila. Running around naked, howling at the moon. The usual.” It’s a low blow, using the truth to throw him off guard. I don’t’ feel good about it, but it’s better than an outright lie.

“And the car?”

“Hmm?”

“You rolled up in an Uber. The Nova crap out on you?”

“Yeah…it’s been acting up for days. I left it at Alex’s. He says he’s gonna take a look at it for me in the morning.”

“Well, I guess having a boyfriend who knows his way around an engine has its perks. Tell him to come over for dinner tomorrow night. Your Mom and I want to get to him know him a little better.”

“Dad—”

“How about you drag the guy over here tomorrow night without a fuss, and I won’t make a stink about the fact that I can smell all that booze on you from fifteen feet away, hmm?”

I chew the inside of my cheek, knowing defeat when I see it. “Well played, sir. Well played.”

He turns back to his computer, sliding his glasses back on. “Don't wake your brother up on your way to bed,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Otherwise I'll be forced to rethink my very forgiving mood.”

I laugh softly under my breath. “Night, Dad.”





31





SILVER





I wake up to a throbbing, thumping drum beat, pounding somewhere right behind my head. I’m gonna fucking kill my brother. Since when did he start listening to house music? And what the fuck time is it? The kid needs to learn some goddamn manners. Cracking my eyes open, I find my watch on the nightstand and peer blearily at Micky, blinking rapidly when I see that it’s nearly seven fifteen.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck.” I am so screwed. Like, definitely-going-to-be-late-for-first-period-if-I-don’t-fucking-move! screwed. My bedroom pitches as I sit bolt upright, and the thumping gets even louder, pulsing through my extremities and rattling against the inside of my skull. I realize, misery sinking in, that there is no music, and the pounding is actually my own heartbeat, hammering at my temples.