Page 47 of Rebels & Rejects
“And yet, you were there to fuck Python the night he died.”
He’s watching me intently, searching my face for any reaction to his prying statement.
I keep my expression carefully shuttered as I state in a dry tone, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business. If I want to get off by rubbing myself against a tree trunk, then that’s my prerogative, and it’s got fuck all to do with you.”
He wipes a hand over his mouth, hiding the half-smile threatening to make an appearance, before leaning across the table toward me. “I just don’t see that someone like Python would be your type.”
There’s a playful twinkle in his eye at that statement, and what the fuck can I say to that? He knows exactly what my type is—him.
Unable to think of a half-decent comeback, I simply shrug my shoulders, refusing to say anything more on the subject, and after a moment, he switches lanes, getting us back on track. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Rejects aren’t like the Satan’s or any of the other gangs.”
I frown, pinching my lips together. I have noticed—how could I not? And it only confuses me more. It’s practically ingrained into my blood to hate any and all things gang-related, but the Rejects aren’t like any gang I’ve come across before. They don’t appear to be the lowlife scum I’m used to, but that doesn’t make it any easier for me to just discard my hatred for their kind. Besides, if I stopped viewing the Rejects asthe bad guys, then that would open the door for me to see them as something more, which terrifies me. My feelings for Oliver are confusing enough. Then, if you throw in whatever electrified chemistry I have with Cain... If I can’t tell myself that they’re off-limits because of who they are, then where does that leave me?
“I had—noticed. I’m just not sure if that changes anything.”
I lose myself in the depths of his gaze for a moment, the two of us falling into a world where only we exist. I can’t even begin to describe this pull I feel toward him. I’ve felt it ever since I sidled up beside him at the bar. I hardly know the guy—I’ve made a point of not getting to know him—but that doesn’t lessen this attraction between us. If anything, every time we cross paths, my resolve to stay away from him weakens.
Coughing, he clears his throat before asking, “You ready to go?”
With a nod of my head, I agree, “Sure.”
I go to grab a few dollar bills from my pocket but he beats me to it, dropping enough on the table to cover both of our meals.
“I don’t need you to pay for me,” I state with a frown of annoyance.
“Never said you did. I might be a Reject, but I do have some manners, and I know to settle the bill when you ask a girl out for a meal.”
I hesitate for a moment before relenting. Fair enough. So long as he realizes this isn’t a date, who am I to argue with a free meal.
His palm rests on my lower back, the light touch and chivalrous act making my stomach flip as a horde of butterflies take flight as he escorts me across the diner and out the door. I’m aware of his every movement as we walk down the street, and when the back of his hand brushes against mine, I get literal goosebumps. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself he’s a Reject and that he’s on a suicide mission, my body still craves him.
When we approach my apartment building, he pushes me against the wall, crowding me with his broad chest as he leans an arm against the brick above my head. “Go out with me.”
It’s not really a question. More of a demand. One my slutty side responds to. I stare into his pale blue eyes for a long moment, allowing myself for just a second to imagine a world where he isn’t a gang member, and I’m not just trying to keep my brother and me alive. I could definitely picture myself dating him. I imagine he would be easy to fall for, with his boyish charm and casual demeanor, not to mention he’s easy on the eyes. Yup, I could definitely lose myself in Oliver... in another life.
“I can’t,” I begin, watching as tight lines form around his eyes and his shoulders tense. “Maybe if you weren’t who you are... ” I trail off, unsure how to bluntly say if he wasn’t associated with a gang, thenmaybethings could have been different between us.
“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he states, unperturbed.
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe so, but Luc needs me. As much as I couldn’t live without him, he couldn’t live without me. And going out with someone like you, well, that’s just asking for trouble.”
He stares intently back at me for a second. “I think you’re just so used to doing all of it alone that you don’t know how to rely on anyone else. You think I’d bring more trouble to your door, and maybe I would, but I’d also bring more protection and better support. If trouble did come knocking, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.”
He paints a pretty picture, one I could easily fall for, but I know it’s not that black and white. If we were to break up, there would be a target on my back from rival gangs thinking they could maybe get information about the Rejects out of me. Not to mention the fucking war they’re about to start with the Antonellis. Anyone associated with them will be skinned alive.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, watching as his face shutters and he closes himself off from me. I fucking hate it, but I’ve made my decision. He gives a sharp jerk of his head before pushing off the wall and stepping backward.
“Yeah, me too.” With one last lingering look, he moves around to the driver’s side of the car, glancing over at me before he gets in. “Take care of yourself, Red.”
He’s already in the car with the door closed and the engine started by the time I find my voice, feeling strangely emotional as I watch him drive away. “You too, Oliver.”
Chapter 17
Luc is waiting for me when I let myself into the apartment. His anger from earlier is gone, as is my own, and when I step into the living room, he meets my apologetic gaze with a regretful one of his own.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out before I can say anything. “I knew you’d be mad—”
“I was, but only because I care about you.”
