Rebel Soul: (Rebel Series Book 1) ((Rebel Series)) (9 page)

“Because she
asked
him.” Elle rolled her eyes. “Braden’s there, so nothing will happen. He made her sit in the back and Brock didn’t argue.”

I sighed, turning onto the county road the Claytons’ farm was on, following the trail of brake lights. It seemed like every single person at the concert was headed there. “Elle, I really don’t want to be here. This is a terrible idea.”

“Why?” Elle twisted her body to face me, her gaze scrutinizing me. She could read me like nobody else. Lying to her was pointless, even if I wanted to lie to her, which I didn’t. Elle was my best friend, my only companion.

“A thousand reasons.” I bit my lip, slowing as the trail of brake lights ahead of me lit up as cars one by one turned down the Claytons’ driveway. “One, or all, of my brothers could show up. Ezra’s cousin could be there.”

“If Ezra’s cousin is dumb enough to show up, I guess it would be a good thing for your brothers to be there,” Elle pointed out. “Besides, you’re not in high school anymore. You’re eighteen and you’re going to
college
in a couple of months. There’s really no reason for them to be fun blockers anymore.”

“There may be no reason, but they still will be,” I grumbled. “Besides…it’s not
just
about them, or even Ezra’s cousin…” I trailed off, sighing heavily as I turned onto the dirt driveway.

“Then what’s going on?” Elle demanded, crossing her arms and fixing me with a piercing stare. I pulled up behind some random car and put my truck in park, killing the engine.

I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. “I’m in over my head here. I’ve never felt the way I feel about him before…and nothing’s even happened yet. I don’t like feeling out of control like this. And I don’t like that it’s with him.”

“Why not?” Elle whispered, her eyes still fixated on my face.

“He seems complicated,” I answered, biting my bottom lip. “He seems intense and I don’t know if I can survive him.”

Elle was quiet, contemplating my answer.

Throughout high school, it was Elle who crushed hard, Elle who was obsessed and Elle who fell. I played the devil’s advocate. I soothed her broken heart every time a jerk stomped all over it. Sure, I’d had a few minor crushes here and there, but nothing cures a crush like watching the boy you like run off with his tail between his legs after a “friendly chat” with your brothers.

“Maybe you’re not
supposed to
survive him,” she said softly after several long minutes. She raised her eyes to meet mine. “Maybe he’s the one.”

I snorted. Elle always bought that fairytale crap; she believed in Prince Charming and true love, in passion and soul mates.

Elle loved without regret, without question and without any reservations. Elle didn’t have a father; he’d left when she was a baby. She was raised by a tough woman who didn’t think twice about playing both roles. I grew up watching my father long for the missing piece of his heart. We both grew up seeing what love left behind, only we had completely different reactions.

My best friend firmly believed that there was someone out there for everyone, that her father just hadn’t been it for her mother.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure about love. Even if it was real, even if there
was
such a thing as soul mates and happily-ever-afters…I still feared the whole package. I suppose I was afraid. I didn’t want to be left behind by love, and I knew it could happen. Death wasn’t the only culprit, but it was the most final and the most searing.

“Let’s just pretend for a moment that Brock likes me, and I like him, and we go out. There’s still the fact that my dad
specifically said
to stay away from him,” I added, opening my door. I couldn’t stay inside the cab a moment longer.

Elle climbed out and slammed her door, looking at me over the cab of the truck. “He’d tell you to stay away from anyone with a penis.”

I said nothing as Elle led the way into the large barn. Music was already blaring, making the wooden rafters shake.

Barn parties at the Clayton’s house were always over the top. They had a lot of money, with several barns on their farm. This particular barn was actually dedicated to being the “party barn”. The Claytons allowed couples from all over to get married in it too. It was a sought after venue by brides in Muskoka. There was a fully stocked bar, but it was usually completely off limits and reserved for the events that Mrs. Clayton organized.

It was a twenty dollar cover charge to get in. I arched a brow, shaking my head. It wasn’t surprising at all that Mr. and Mrs. Clayton had found a way to make an over-priced dollar.

Still, they’d really outdone themselves this time. Twinkle lights were everywhere, illuminating the makeshift dance floor. Speakers were pulsing and bodies were swaying. I took a steadying breath, scanning the crowd, searching for the one person I had no right to look for.

I bit my lip, trying to talk myself out of this silly infatuation. Brock and I could never work. Besides, I was headed off to college soon. There wasn’t any time to start anything, not that Brock Miller was interested.

Still, disappointment crushed down on my foolish heart when my eyes finally landed on him. He was dancing with Melanie, or rather, she was grinding up against him and wiggling her hips like some exotic dancer from a hip hop video.

Elle saw the look on my face and quickly steered me in the opposite direction, towards the bar.

“I’m not drinking tonight,” I argued, trying to tug my hand free of her death grip. “I honestly just want to go home.”

“The hell you are, and you’re going to need a little liquid courage.” Elle raised her eyebrows at me over her shoulder, still dragging me. “There’s no way in hell you’ll get over yourself without it.”

“I drove tonight,” I pointed out.

There seemed to be an overwhelming number of people hanging out by the bar. Elle elbowed her way in, with me following close behind. “And I’ll be your designated driver. Not an ounce of alcohol shall pass these beautiful lips.” She winked. She had already decided how tonight was going to play out, and arguing with her was pointless.

We came to a stop in front of the black walnut bar. I arched my brow at Elle, impressed. Usually when Melanie threw a party in the barn, there wasn’t a bartender. Tonight, an attractive looking guy was behind the bar. His dark brown eyes met Elle’s and he grinned.

“Can I get two Red Headed Slut shots please?” she ordered, leaning over the bar. I knew she was giving the poor bartender a generous view of her ample cleavage. He didn’t even bother asking her for ID; he just went about preparing the shots.

That’s how it was with Elle. She never got carded, and when she did, she had a pretty believable fake ID. I had one too, that Elle was forced to hang on to at
all
times because I could only imagine what kind of trouble I’d get into if my father found a fake ID in my room. I’d probably be grounded until I was fifty.

I sighed, taking the shot from her hand. I tossed it back in one gulp, the combination of Jager, cranberry juice and peach schnapps assaulting my taste buds. She smiled, relieved that I wasn’t going to fight her on this. Her grin widened as she shoved the other shot to me and ordered another.

“Elle! You said you weren’t drinking!” I protested, my eyebrows knitting together.

“Relax, I’m not. It’s for you. You’re going to shoot them, and then we’re going to go dance!” Elle nodded towards the shot glass still in my hand. I rolled my eyes and did as she commanded. The idea of numbing all the thoughts in my head right now sounded pretty damn good. I knew Brock was somewhere on the dance floor, with
Melanie
of all people.

I never liked Melanie. She was always standoffish and rude to me, even when she was dating Gordon. She was condescending and petty, selfish and haughty. Plus, she cheated on Gordon. Not that Gordon had cared; he was thankful for the excuse to break up with her, but still. Anyone who cheated on one of my brothers landed a well-earned place on my shit list.

“Stop thinking about that tramp,” Elle ordered, handing me the final shot. I tossed it back, feeling tipsy. The alcohol barely burned as it slid down the back of my throat, a sign that I was definitely going to regret having three shots in so little time.

I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed the alcohol to wash over me like a comforting blanket. I wasn’t drunk like I’d been the other night, but I was feeling light and free.

Jason Aldean’s
Dirt Road Anthem
was playing as Elle grabbed my hand and tugged me out to the dance floor.

Dancing was something Elle and I had always done together. We garnered each other nicely, and we knew we fetched a lot of attention when we danced in public. I tossed my hair over my shoulders, spinning around with my hands up over my head, singing the lyrics along with her.

My eyes roamed the bodies on the dance floor, searching for that one person that I craved. I didn’t see Brock, or Melanie for that matter, and it only made me feel worse.
Dirt Road Anthem
faded off and Blake Shelton’s
Sangria
kicked on, the lyrics doing
nothing
to free my mind of its current thoughts. “I need another shot,” I told Elle, tugging her back towards the bar.

“Another Red Headed Slut,” I ordered.

“Do you have ID?” the bartender asked, arching a brow. Elle stepped out and handed him our fake IDs. He didn’t seem to care about their authenticity. Shrugging, he slid me another shot. I tossed it back, scowling at Elle.

“I told you this was a terrible idea.”

“What, you’re not having
any
fun at all?” Elle pouted, seeming hurt by my foul attitude.

“Not really. Where’s Braden?” What I wanted to ask was
’Where’s Brock?’
Elle knew and smiled. “He texted me, said he was having a smoke. Brock’s with him,” she answered.

Before I could respond, someone put their hand on my hip. I turned my head, glaring daggers at the person, about to light into them before I realized who it was.

“Excuse me, darling, I just need to get a drink,” Travis Channing drawled, his emerald eyes sparkling at me. They slowly roamed my face and dropped down the rest of my body with slow appreciation. His hand was still on my hip.

I was gaping like a fish, my mouth opening and closing. Travis didn’t seem bothered by my inability to communicate. The corner of his lip lifted up in a charming smile. He broke eye contact to order a Jack Daniels, then dropped his gaze back down to my lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Tessa,” I muttered, frowning slightly. “Tessa
Armstrong
,” I emphasized my last name purposely.

“Shit.” Travis chuckled, recognition crossing his features. He took another slow look. “You grew up.”

“People tend to do that,” I responded, looking towards Elle for help. She was every bit as shocked as I was. I could honestly say this was the first time a celebrity had touched me, even if it was some guy that grew up around here and fished with my brother in high school. 

He laughed, like I’d told the funniest joke ever. “Well Tessa Armstrong, do you want to dance?” he asked.

I contemplated his question. It wasn’t every day that someone asked me to dance at a party; most of the guys in this town had learned the hard way. My thoughts briefly drifted over to Brock before I inwardly scolded myself for caring. He hadn’t shown any interest in me all night, and I refused to be that girl that waited around.

“Alright,” I said, shrugging. Elle’s eyes widened and she repressed a smile, watching as I allowed Travis to lead me to the dance floor.

He put his hands on my hips and pulled me against his body, swaying in time to Tim McGraw’s
Diamond Rings and Old Barstools
.

All I could think about while I danced with
the
Travis Channing was Brock; Brock’s reluctant smile, Brock’s gray eyes. The way I felt when I was around him, the way I felt like everything could fall away, but him and me.

Travis was taller than me by nearly five inches. He had wavy, dark blond hair that couldn’t quite decide if it was curly or straight. It teased his shirt collar and fell in a charming swoop over his forehead. He was lean and fit, but he didn’t ooze the delectable masculinity that Brock did. By all counts, I should have been attracted to Travis, and I probably would have been at least enamored with him…had Brock not invaded my senses.

“Were you at the concert?” Travis’s voice stirred my thoughts away from Brock and I tried to focus on his face. The alcohol in my system made that normally easy task a little challenging.

“Yeah, I was there. It was good,” I shrugged.

Travis grinned. “Just good?”

“Sorry, it was
the most amazing thing I have ever had the pleasure of witnessing, ever. My ear drums will never be the same again,
” I corrected sarcastically, smirking. Travis blinked at me for a moment, and then he threw back his head and laughed.

“Shit Tessa, you’re the realest girl I’ve met in a long time.” He sounded astonished by this fact.