Page 42 of The Rebel (Covington Prep: The Girls We Love #7)

VALENCIA

I’d barely gotten any sleep last night, with going home to grab more clothes and my passport, packing my suitcase and letting my friends know what was happening.

The group chat had been fast and furious, everyone jealous and wanting to know all the details.

And surprisingly, in a private message, Gabby texted that she hoped I’d have a good trip and congratulated me on my selection in the art exhibition.

Sending back a quick reply of thanks, I asked if she would let the blind center co-ordinator know that I would be absent for the next few weeks.

She sent back a row of smiley emojis and hearts. And then a few seconds later, another text: Of course I will. Btw, just to let you know Scott and I broke up. Hope we can catch up when you get back : )

From the tone of her text, my heart dropped and I just knew she was hurting. Without hesitation, I called her.

I wasn’t wrong. Gabby blubbered and spilled it all to me, more upset over the way she’d treated me than her breakup.

She’d come to realize that Scott was a jerk who had been manipulative and controlling.

And he’d used her—when their band hadn’t been chosen to represent the school, he had become vicious, unkind and blamed her.

“Can you forgive me, Vali?” she asked. “I got so caught up with Scott, I think I lost my head.”

“Yeah,” I had to agree, “I think you did.”

And we’d both laughed, like old times—our friendship solid enough to stand the test of time and bad boyfriends. Hers, that is—not mine.

Jade and I had stayed up talking (okay, and other things), but the door had been left wide open.

After he left my room, Dad called, having just woken up.

They were on their way back to London and were desperate to see me, missing me so much, especially Paris who was blaming his lack of success on me not being there.

I was his lucky charm, his calming influence and he needed me.

That made my heart leap, being credited as a vital member of the team. Suddenly, everything was good in my life and though the thought of leaving Jade, Oliver and Dani was sad, having a first date and telling Mom about it was just as exciting.

It was a 75 minute flight from Falls Creek to O’Hare International Airport, making the connection for my 10:25 flight to London tight. I’d get to London after midnight, but Dad assured me he would be waiting for me.

Jade, a stickler for punctuality as well as rules, suggested we leave early, like the crack of dawn. He wanted to accommodate for traffic delays, parking issues and airport crowds.

Still, I couldn’t help but mock him about taking the morning off of school and missing his classes.

“You never know, I might take the whole day off,” he pondered.

“What! Outrageous,” I said. “What will you do?”

“I’ll go sit with Volley and watch the flight tracker and see just where your plane is,” he said.

You know, it was ridiculous how that set my heart into a tremor of earth shattering proportions, like 8 or 9 on the Richter scale. And it left me speechless and a little bit misty eyed.

I didn’t know that anything a boy could say could make you melt into a sappy, quivering mess. Yep, I was tearing up before we’d even gotten to the airport.

“You’re not supposed to cry on the first date,” Jade said.

“Im not crying,” I said, blotting at my eyes. “It’s allergies.”

“You had crab for breakfast?” Jade joked.

I punched his arm, but he quickly grabbed it and held my hand for the rest of the drive. Or until he needed to use it for the transmission.

As Jade had traveled this route before, I appreciated all his knowledge about international travel, border control and the pitfalls of an eight hour flight in economy class, though my legs weren’t as long as his, so I might survive a little easier.

“Gah,” he sighed as we looked at the departure board and knew it was time for me to go through customs. “It’s killing me that I’m not coming with you.” He wrapped his arms around me so firmly that I wondered if he’d misjudged his own strength.

“I’ll be back soon,” I whispered, rubbing my hands up his arms.

“I should have brought my passport,” he said in such a way that indicated he would have made the impulsive decision to come with me if he did have it.

A flutter of butterflies filled my stomach. “I’ll be sure to bring you back some Jaffa cakes,” I said.

“Yes. All the Jaffa cakes, please!” He laughed and kissed my forehead before his eyes glazed over with a look of longing. “Tell me three weeks isn’t long.”

“Three weeks isn’t long,” I repeated in a monotone of insincerity.

“You should go,” Jade said, though he hadn’t released me, not even a little.

“I’m going,” I said, though I wasn’t attempting to move from his embrace.

“Just one kiss,” he said. “Or you’ll miss your flight.”

His green eyes scanned me like he was taking a mental photograph, memorizing every facet of my face. A tingle vibrated through me, that feeling of being on a pedestal, on his pedestal, making me dizzy and...adored.

“We’ll talk everyday,” he said and I was about to agree but my words were null and void when his mouth claimed mine, a fiery kiss both urgent and sweet, tender yet possessive. I had no doubts that Jade Sinclair was stealing my heart away.

But that was fine—his Little Rebel was offering no resistance whatsoever.

––––––––

I woke up to find myself in London, England with Paris and Mom hovering over me. Too bad that I’d only had four or so hours sleep, they both demanded hugs to confirm that I was not an apparition.

“We have an early start,” Mom said, meaning Paris had an early start, “but you rest up a little more and Dad will bring you to the courts later. We’re so glad you’re here, honey.”

“Yeah,” Paris said, his smile wide, “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you, kid.”

I poked my tongue out at him. “Same. What time’s your match?”

“It’s the second match on Court 2,” he said, “against Philippe, my doubles partner in France.” That was the thing about tennis tournaments, unless you were playing the first match, you didn’t know your exact start time.

A match could be finished in under an hour, or it could drag on for three hours.

That’s why nutrition and warm-ups were so important, sometimes you had to be ready in an instant.

There was one time when it looked like the match before Paris’s was going to last at least two hours, but suddenly one player was injured and withdrew.

In fifteen minutes, Paris had to quickly prepare to be on court.

“You look different,” Mom butted in. “Like we’ve been away three weeks and you’re suddenly all grown up.”

I ran my hand through my knotted hair and frowned. “Don’t be crazy.”

“No, you do, something’s different.” Mom scrutinized me a little closer. “Did you dye your hair?”

“No! I didn’t dye my hair,” I said, taking the scrunchie off of my wrist and pulling my hair back into a loose bun.

“Well, I’m sensing something.”

“I got that feeling too,” Dad said, “when I first saw her.”

“Huh!” I scoffed. “All you’re sensing is extreme fatigue. I’d been jammed in the smallest economy class seat one row in front of the toilet so I heard every person who needed to use the bathroom. You could have gotten me a seat in business class!”

“Ha! We were lucky to get you that seat. Flights were full right through till Friday,” Dad said.

“Even business class?”

“Well, we didn’t look at those seats,” Dad conceded.

“I may have been wrong,” Mom said with a wry smile and a ruffle of my hair, “I don’t think our girl’s changed at all, Clint. Still moaning and as feisty as ever.”

“Just the way we like her,” Dad said with a wink.

I scowled and pouted, then smiled as I remembered how Jade wanted to book business class seats and come with me.

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Paris said. “It feels right now.”

It was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to get any more sleep and I jumped out of bed. “Have you had your breakfast yet? Let me get it. What food have we got?”

“Mom and Dad are useless,” Paris said as I joined him in the small kitchen of the apartment. “Look at these bananas.” He pointed to a bunch of bananas with a few spots on them. Most people would consider them fine but I knew they were too ripe for Paris’s taste.

“I’ll have to go shopping. Jade said that their grocery stores are different here and that if you can find a fruit and veg market, the food is so much better.”

“Oh,” Dad said, “we’ll see if we can find one then. That’s right, Jade did an exchange here, didn’t he?”

“Yep,” I answered, and turned back to Paris, “I’m guessing they didn’t soak the oats overnight?”

I always made Paris my own version of Bircher muesli, oats soaked overnight in almond milk and Greek yogurt with grated apple, cranberries, raisins and a dash of cinnamon. It wasn’t hard to do.

“No, I’ve been cooking them,” Paris said.

I tutted at Mom and Dad’s incompetence.

“We’ve been traveling,” Mom said in outraged defense. “It’s been very difficult to get exactly what he wants.”

“We haven’t been as precise as we would have liked,” Dad admitted meekly. “Paris has had to make adjustments.”

“Yeah, because they’re both pathetic,” Paris muttered in my ear.

We both sniggered, causing Mom to cast a stern glance at us. “And by the way, young lady, what’s this art exhibition you’ve been selected for? And why didn’t you tell us about it?”

I shrugged, unable to resist a snarky reply. “I thought it would be a distraction.”

Mom narrowed her eyes at me, like I was being insolent, but then her mouth twisted into a smile. And I realized that Mom and I had our own unique relationship. We were different, like chalk and cheese, and we sometimes—or oftentimes—clashed, but it didn’t lessen the love we felt for each other.

“Well, those pictures were amazing, Valencia,” she said. “They just blew me away.”

“Yeah, and who was that good looking guy with all the muscles?” Paris quipped.