A Gorgeous Villain (St. Mary's Rebels 2)

I watch him then.

Speechless.

I never thought of it that way. I never thought that I see good in people. I mean, I do, but I never made that connection. I never thought that that’s what I was doing with Reed.

I was though, right?

I did see the good in him and he took advantage of that.

I trusted him and he broke my trust. And maybe he’s right.

Maybe trusting people is not a crime, breaking that trust is.

He’s the criminal. And I’m the crime he committed.

“Are you going to eat the fucking cupcake or not?” he pushes out when all I do is stare at him.

At this beautiful criminal, this gorgeous villain.

“Apologize,” I blurt out and as soon as I say it, my spine goes up.

My resolve strengthens.

“What?”

“Apologize to me,” I tell him. “Because you’re right. I have been punishing myself. For the crimes that you committed. You’re the asshole here, the villain. And so apologize. Say you were an asshole. To use me like that. To abuse my trust. To break my heart like that. I apologized for stealing your car even though you deserved it and now it’s your turn. And apologize not because your sister wants you to but because you should.”

His nostrils flare and I raise my chin.

I’m not budging from this spot until he apologizes to me.

His jaw tics for a few seconds and his grip on the door tightens before he loosens it and says, “I’m the asshole here. I used you, abused your trust and broke your heart. I shouldn’t have done that. So yeah, I fucking apologize.”

It wasn’t exactly the heartfelt apology I was looking for but it’s fine.

It’s Reed.

He’s rude and insensitive and an asshole like he just said. So I’ll take it like I’m taking his help.

"Thank you.”

“So am I forgiven then?”

I look at him for a few seconds before I shake my head. “No. Not really. I don’t think anything you can do will ever make me forgive you.”

He looks back at me for a few seconds too. “Good.”

I feel a twinge in my heart and I swallow. “Fine.”

“Now, are you going to get inside the fucking car or not?”

“I will.” I throw him a regal nod. “And I will eat those cupcakes too. In your Mustang. Because I don’t care about your stupid rule of not eating inside your car.”

He does have that rule.

He told me that once and all the time we were together, I never broke it. But I’m going to break it now and he can’t stop me.

“Fine.” He throws me a short nod of his own. “You can eat your fucking cupcake in my car.”

So I finally get inside his car and open the box of cupcakes. When he closes the door, I hear him mutter, That rule was never for you anyway.

Again, I try not to dwell on those nearly silent words. I try not to let any warmth invade my chest.

But as I said, on nights like this, it becomes hard.

It becomes hard to ignore that for all his asshole ways, he did get me off the hook and he did apologize to me.

And one Thursday, a week later, it becomes almost impossible to ignore.

Because first, he comes to pick me up at midnight, wearing a suit.

A legit suit with a tie.

His jacket is off, but he’s wearing a dress shirt that stretches really nicely over his chest, and a loosened tie.

For a few seconds I can only watch him with wide eyes. Because he looks so… dashing. So freaking handsome and gorgeous and worldly.

Like the rich, arrogant boy he is.

A man actually.

And the second thing happens when I get inside his Mustang and my eyes fall on some papers and files scattered on his backseat. It’s not the files themselves that trip me up, it’s the black logo on them, Jackson Builders.

His dad’s company.

The company that Reed has sworn never to work at even though that’s what his dad has always wanted for him.

That’s what pushes me over the edge.

That file and his suit.

That’s what makes me break the pact. The pact that I’d made with Tempest of no brothers and no seeking out information about Reed.

About the last two years.

About what really happened and what he did to get me free.

***

He’s waiting for me by his car.

Like he always does.

Leaning against it, his arms crossed over his chest, his ankles crossed as well.

I can see him through the woods, his tall form, his dark jeans.

Tonight there’s no light in him, no softness. Nothing to sand down the beautiful, reckless edges.

Because tonight he’s forgone his hoodie that he usually wears. He doesn’t have his suit on either, which I only saw for the first time last Thursday, which made him look all old and mature and so experienced.

Tonight, he has that leather jacket on.