Rewrite the Stars

I turn my back to him, stuffing my phone into my jeans pocket as I start to walk away, not giving in to his bait.

“In fact,” he calls out after me, “I’m trying to protect you.”

I spin around, exasperated. “Protect me from what? Having a decent summer?” I yell, throwing my arms out, feeling a little unhinged, but not caring enough to reel it in. “You’re doing a real bang-up job.”

“From getting hurt,” he says, sounding earnest. I let my arms drop down to my sides, some of the fight leaving me. “Let’s go for a ride,” he suggests. When I give him a skeptical look, he rolls his eyes. “There are things you don’t know. I promise to be nice.”

“One hour,” I concede, curiosity getting the best of me.

“That’s all I need.”

Fifteen minutes later, we’re in one of the pickup trucks—don’t ask me whose—pulling into a local coffee shop. When I walk inside, the smell alone is enough to make my mouth water. Lathan extends his arm, motioning for me to go ahead of him. I order a sandwich and an iced coffee while he orders a black coffee. Shocker.

“So, what do I need protecting from, oh virtuous one?” I ask, taking a seat into one of the leather arm chairs seated around a table in the back of the shop. Lathan sits across from me, sitting back with his chin propped on his head, looking contemplative.

“Has Sebastian told you anything about our…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “Family history?”

“He’s not exactly Chatty Cathy,” I deadpan.

“Right. To make a long, extremely complicated story short, we don’t date. We don’t marry. We don’t have children. We don’t get attached.”

“I already got that spiel from Sebastian,” I say, boredom lacing my tone. “How does this involve me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snaps. “We both know there’s something going on with you two.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he stops me by holding up a hand.

“Take it from me, Evan. This will end badly.”

I shake my head. “You’re not making sense. Why do you care what I do?”

“Sebastian’s not thinking straight. Someone around here has to.” He takes a sip of his coffee. When he speaks again, his voice is lower. Softer. “Look, I’ll buy you a one-way flight right now. Go home to your family, Evan. Before it’s too late. For both of you.”

“Even if I wanted to leave, I have nowhere to go back to.” I stand, grabbing the bag with my sandwich and my coffee. “I have no one. If you brought me here to scare me into leaving with thinly veiled threats, then you can take me back. Now.” I should go home. In fact, I debated on it all night. I shouldn’t want to stay here, especially with what Sebastian said about me. But I won’t be forced to leave. And I’m not going to run away just because a boy hurt my feelings. I’m going to make it through the summer, and I’m going to have some fucking fun if it kills me.

“Jesus.” Lathan pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not threatening you. Just remember. I tried to warn you,” he says cryptically. He stands, pitching his near-full cup of coffee into the trash before storming out of the shop, leaving me standing there with a feeling of dread swirling in my stomach, but I don’t know why.

There is definitely something weird about these people.

As soon as we pull onto the dirt lot, I see Sebastian heading straight for us, murder written all over his face.

“Here we go,” Lathan mutters, killing the engine. He barely has a chance to step out of the truck before Sebastian’s fisting his collar with both hands and slamming him into the side of the truck. Lathan doesn’t fight back. Almost like he expected this to happen.

“What the fuck are you playing at?” Sebastian growls. I open the door, rounding the front of the truck.

“We went for coffee,” he says with forced ease. Sebastian slides his eyes to me, looking for an explanation.

I hold up my plastic cup and shake it, the ice rattling around. “Coffee,” I repeat. I should tell him about Lathan, but for reasons I’ve not yet figured out, I decide to keep it to myself for now. Lathan narrows his eyes, and I can practically see the questions in his mind. He’s wondering why I’m not saying anything.

Sebastian loosens his grip on Lathan’s collar, and Lathan shoves him away, straightening his shirt. “Where’s the trust, brother?” Lathan smirks, pushing off the truck. Satisfied it’s not going to come to blows, I turn and walk away.

“Evan,” Sebastian snaps, but I keep walking. And he doesn’t follow.

My sandwich and I wander aimlessly as the whole carnival are hard at work, erecting their rides and booths and tents. I watch in amazement, seeing just how much goes into setting everything up. Sliding into a picnic table, I unwrap my sandwich, content watching the crew put the Ferris wheel together.

“Intense, isn’t it?” I hear from my left. I jump, looking over to see a guy, probably around my age, if I had to guess. He’s shirtless, and his dark, sweat-slicked hair is pushed back like he just ran his hands through it and his amber eyes are rimmed in black. Is he wearing eyeliner? “I always wanted to get a time-lapse video of this place.” His jeans are baggy at the knees, as if they haven’t been washed in a while. He has that same thing the Sons of Eastlake have going on. That dirty but hot vibe. “I’m Miles,” he says, extending a hand.

“Evan,” I say, putting my hand against his rough palm to shake it.