Rebel: Chapter 8

At Sea “Are you almost ready?” Rachel called from the hallway as I threw on a final coat of mascara.

“One second,” I promised, racing barefoot from our bathroom to my bedroom where my silver sparkle heels were waiting.

“You know, I’m not usually a body-envy kind of girl,” Rachel said as she leaned against my doorframe watching me finish, “but, holy shit, you look phenomenal in that.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s my birthday.” I slipped my feet into the strappy heels and fastened the buckles.

“Nope. I feel zero need to conform to social norms like being nice on a birthday.” She half shrugged, lifting the bare shoulder of her asymmetrical white cocktail dress. With fresh purple streaks in her chin-length black bob, she looked ultra-modern and chic.

“Truth,” I acknowledged as I pointed at her.

“Now can we go? We’re already twenty minutes late.”

“You care about the societal norm of being on time?” I smoothed the lines of my form-fitted, white spaghetti-strap dress. It fell just beneath my knees but boasted a slit that rose dangerously high on my left thigh. I’d left my hair down in a riot of beach waves and been extra careful with my makeup. I told myself that it was for the cameras, to fulfill my contractual obligations, but Cruz might be there, and he’d never seen my hair down.

He’s your professor, I reminded myself for the hundredth time.

“No, but I do care about seeing my hot-ass boyfriend decked out in white from head to toe.”

“Good point.” We walked out of the suite to find an empty hallway. Guess we really were that late. “They didn’t plan anything, right?”

Rachel looked at the ceiling, then the walls, as we made our way to the elevator.

“Rachel.”

“There might be a cake.”

“A cake. Okay. I can handle a cake.” I nodded to myself as we reached the elevator bay, and Rachel hit the down button. So far, I’d managed to keep the day pretty quiet. It wasn’t like I felt like celebrating. After all, Brooke had been with me for every birthday I could remember, and well…she was gone.

The elevator opened and we got in, then picked up two guys from deck eight on our way to the lobby.

“God damn,” one of them said, not realizing I could see him checking out my ass in the reflection of the elevator door, or not caring, which was equally disgusting. “You’re that Renegade girl, right?”

“That’s me,” I said, watching the floors tick by and praying for patience. If I went around decking every guy who had the nerve to look at my ass we’d never keep a sponsor.

“So why do they call you Rebel, anyway?” he asked.

The doors opened. Thank you, God.

“For a lot of reasons.” I looked over my shoulder at the overgrown frat boy in a white polo. “None of which you could even dream of handling.”

We walked onto the small landing and looked out over the massive party in the atrium.

“Bitch,” the guy muttered as he walked by.

Rachel spun toward him, and I grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. The last thing we needed was a section of the documentary dedicated to assault charges when Rachel kicked his ass.

“Maybe, but certainly not your bitch,” I called out as he walked down the stairs.

“Asshole,” Rachel seethed and turned back to the railing with me to look out over the crowd.

“They usually are.”

Guys scoped me out regularly, wanting to bag the “girl Renegade,” or worse, use me to get closer to Pax or Landon. I wasn’t Penna to them, just Rebel—a piece of ass and a trophy to brag about. When they realized I wasn’t interested and they couldn’t convince me otherwise, I immediately became a bitch or a lesbian to them. It happened so often that I’d become pretty much immune.

“Some party,” Rachel said, her eyes roaming in search of Landon.

The atrium had been transformed in preparation for the International Date Line party. White swags of fabric draped down the support pillars that held the atrium open for ten decks, then gathered at the center. Disco balls hung, reflecting purplish lights onto the gyrating mass of college students all dressed in white beneath us. It was beautiful in a way that should have been ethereal, but instead looked downright hedonistic with the positions of some of those couples. The DJ spun from the landing of the grand staircase, the beat strong and driving.

“There he is! Let’s go!”

I followed Rachel down the steps and into the crowd of white. How the hell she managed to pick Landon out of this monochromatic crowd was something I could never understand. Everyone blended together.

Was Cruz here? Did professors come as chaperones? Or maybe just to have fun themselves? I found myself scanning the crowd even though I knew I shouldn’t. He hadn’t been at the gym when I’d gone earlier, but changing my run time today was something I couldn’t help thanks to this little soiree. I needed to run every day if I wanted my endurance back, and Bobby would have had my ass if I’d missed the party.

When the cameras started trailing us, I knew we had to be close. First term, I’d shared the three-bedroom suite with Landon and Pax, and the cameras had been everywhere but the bathrooms, allowed by the contracts we’d signed. Moving in with Rachel three months ago—where the cameras weren’t allowed—had given me a modicum of privacy to recover.

We found the other Renegades in a roped-off area near the grand staircase. Two guards in white suits opened the ropes for us, and I rolled my eyes. Only Pax would create a VIP section at a college party. Landon pulled Rachel into a hug and whispered something I couldn’t hear above the music, thank God. I was privy to way too much of their sex life through our thin walls as it was.

“Happy birthday, Penna!” Pax said as he swept me off my feet into a massive bear hug.

“You already said that this morning.” I laughed as my oldest friend spun me in a circle.

“And I’ll get to say it again tomorrow! That’s the absolute beauty of having your birthday on International Date Line day. You get an automatic redo tomorrow!”

“You’ve been drinking,” I said with a smile as he finally set me down.

“We may have opened the champagne while we were waiting for you,” he admitted.

“Happy birthday!” Leah said, hugging me to her petite frame and handing me a flute of champagne.

“Thank you,” I told her, gladly accepting it. Maybe if I drank enough, I’d stop looking for Cruz and find someone my own age who could hold my interest.

Fat chance.

“Penna, my dearest,” Landon said as he hugged me from behind, resting his chin on my head. “Happy birthday, my favorite Rebel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I waved him off, ready to be done with the birthday show. “You guys seriously needed ropes?”

“It’s part of your birthday present,” Pax argued, his forehead puckering as he sank into one of the three white leather couches he’d no doubt arranged to have brought down just for this.

“You need to be exclusive?” I teased.

“Where are the cameras?” he asked, tilting his head as Leah cuddled up to his side.

I glanced around the area he’d sectioned off for us, realizing they all stood on the outside of the ropes. “They can’t come in?”

“Happy birthday,” he said, raising his glass.

“Best present ever,” I agreed and then sipped the chilled, sweet champagne. It was another concession of Pax’s, pouring the sweet stuff while I knew he preferred the dry.

Those little things were never seen by the outside world, by the other students who looked over at our group while they danced. Maybe they saw us as a group of elitist friends, but we were a family, sometimes stronger than the one I had been born into.

Pax and Landon would never let me fall if they could help it. They would move heaven and earth for me, and I would do the same for them and Nick. Nick, for whom we gave up this entire year of our life, because that’s what family did—took care of one another.

Maybe I couldn’t ride my bike now…maybe not ever, but this was still my family.

“Cuba,” I said to Pax.

He leaned forward. “Cuba?”

“For the live expo. It’s never been done before, and with the new entry regulations, we can do it. There’s a waiver for sporting events.” I’d looked it up last night after my run with Cruz.

“Cuba,” he said, drawing out the word as he thought.

“Just something to think about.”

“It’s a good idea. Let’s look into it.”

“Okay.”

“What are we looking into?” Alex asked, coming to stand next to me. He was tall, lanky, with a mop of blond hair and glazed blue eyes that always made me wonder how the hell he got marijuana on board. But he was nearly as good as Landon at snowboarding, which put an equal pro in his column that almost eclipsed the con of his stonerish mannerisms.

“The live expo,” I answered, looking at him. My gaze skipped right over his white tee to see Cruz leaning against the wall about twenty feet behind Alex, clearly chaperoning.

His eyes were locked on me, and I knew that look—it was the same one he’d worn just before he’d kissed me in Vegas. Teacher or not, he didn’t see me as just a student. The knowledge sent a chill racing down my spine, followed by a delicious sense of awareness.

Holy shit, he looked edible. He managed to do what no other guy had pulled off at the party—make white pants sexy. They were drawstring…all it would take would be a tiny tug on that string…

Alex said something, and I nodded absently.

I could talk to Cruz, right? No one would jump to conclusions because I spoke to my professor at a school party. Before I realized it, I’d already taken a step, but I was brought up short when he shook his head once, the movement nearly imperceptible.

My drink disappeared from my hand, and I turned to see Alex holding out his hand to me. My confusion must have come across on my face, because he looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “You said you wanted to dance?”

“Oh yeah, okay,” I said, realizing I’d agreed to something when I hadn’t been listening.

Pax’s bouncers opened the ropes for us, and we hit the dance floor as Sia sang about cheap thrills. Alex chose a spot at the edge of the crowd that gave the cameras the best view of us, and me the best view of Cruz as he watched.

I shook my head and tried to concentrate on Alex. After all, he’d asked me to dance, not Cruz. He was my age, came from my lifestyle, and was a better fit for me in about ten thousand different ways.

As we started to move, keeping enough space between us that I was comfortable, Miss Gibson took up a place next to Cruz. She had been my math professor first term, and next to Cruz was probably the youngest professor on the ship.

He laughed at something she said, and my stomach twisted with an ugly emotion I didn’t want to name. She put her hand on his arm, and I backed up until I came into contact with Alex’s stomach.

His hands moved to my waist, and I moved against him as Selena Gomez took over the speakers. But as she started to sing about wanting hands on her body, I could only imagine Cruz’s hands, Cruz’s lips. God, I had it bad.

As if sensing the change, Cruz looked up, his eyes immediately narrowing as he saw me in Alex’s arms. It was stupid, immature, and downright mean, but I held his gaze in open challenge and then moved even deeper into Alex. I wanted Cruz to see, to want, to be forced to admit that he wanted me, even if the rules said he couldn’t have me.

I’d never given a shit about rules. They called me Rebel for a reason.

Cruz’s eyes slid closed, and he swallowed hard, then forced a smile and looked back at Miss Gibson. That wretched jealousy in my belly turned sour with sadness as he led her away toward the bar.

Of course he should talk to her. Flirt with her. Hook up with her. Just like Alex was my logical choice, she would be his. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of Alex’s hands, steady and sure on my waist. His body, lean from years of boarding, moved against mine in rhythm with the music.

Maybe he was what I needed. Maybe he would make me forget what Cruz made me feel, or even better, teach me that I could want someone besides Cruz. Because I couldn’t have him.

Before I lost my nerve, I grabbed Alex’s hand and walked past the bar to the hallway of offices just off the atrium.

I opened the door and found the excursion office—where non-Renegades booked their travel, since ours was predetermined with stunts. I barely registered the look of shock on Alex’s face as I shut the door behind us.

“Penna…” he said, his eyebrows sky high.

“What? You think I’m pretty, right?” I asked, looking up at him, our bodies easily a foot apart, because I couldn’t bring myself to close the distance.

“Hell yeah, you’re hot.”

“Well, then…” I shrugged.

“Look, I’m not against hooking up with you, but I know you don’t usually…”

“Usually what? Act like a normal, single, twenty-two-year-old woman?” Every second that passed took a bite out of what I thought had been resolve to reveal the bones of jealousy-fueled stupidity.

“Well, yeah.”

I leaned back against the desk, knowing he was right. Making out with Alex—or worse—wasn’t going to fix the issue that I wanted someone else. It would only make me feel like shit.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I really want to want you, and I know that’s not something that even sounds sane.”

He walked over to me and tilted my chin. “This isn’t something you need to apologize for, Penna. And nothing happ—”

The door flew open behind him, and I looked around Alex, expecting to see Pax or Landon interfering as usual.

It wasn’t.

My mouth dropped open as Cruz stood there, outright murder in his eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

Alex jumped back about two feet. “Dr. Delgado! Nothing!”

“Damn right you’re not. This is an office, not your closet for seven minutes in heaven. Take it to your rooms if you need to.”

What, were we in seventh grade?

“Yes, sir,” Alex said and looked back at me.

“I need a second to compose myself,” I said honestly. The last thing I wanted to do was walk out with the guy I’d almost kissed to take my mind off the other guy.

That was an awkward moment I could do without.

“Okay, I’ll see you out there,” Alex said.

My eyes slid shut, and my head drooped as I heard the door click softly behind them as they left.

“What the fuck was that, Penelope?” Cruz hissed.

My eyes shot to his. “I thought you left.”

“What was that?” he repeated, folding his massive arms over his chest.

“That was me being horribly stupid,” I admitted.

“Oh, I got that. Because it sure as hell looked to me like you were doing your damnedest to make me jealous.” His eyes narrowed as he leaned against the wall farthest from me.

My face burned with heat. “That’s because I was.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I saw you talking to Miss Gibson. Because I’m stuck in junior high. I don’t know.” I threw my hands up in frustration. “Because you make me do stupid things like want you when I’m well aware that you don’t want me.”

His head snapped back like I’d slapped him.

“Don’t want you? Fuck my life, Penelope. It’s taken every ounce of self-restraint I have to stay away from you since we came on board, to keep my eyes off you in class. To keep from jumping from my balcony to yours when I hear your voice just above me.”

“What?”

“Yeah, my room is just under yours, which means we sleep about twenty vertical feet apart. Talk about a mindfuck.”

“I didn’t know,” I said softly, running my tongue over my lower lip in nervousness.

“Oh God, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That.” He pointed toward my mouth. “Everything I told you in Vegas is still true. You’re still gorgeous, still sexy as hell, still everything that draws me in like a damned magnet, but you’re also everything I can’t have. Don’t you get that? When you pull shit like that on the dance floor, you successfully drive me batshit crazy, watching you in some guy’s arms.” A small laugh escaped him. “Like that kid has any idea what to do with you if he actually managed to catch you.”

“And you do?”

His eyes darkened. “Don’t challenge me like that.”

The tension stretched between us for a quiet moment until I broke the silence. “I didn’t kiss him.”

“I’m well aware, because if you had, I’m not sure if I could have let him walk out of here, and that’s dangerous, Penelope. You are dangerous to me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said truthfully. “Logically, I know nothing can happen between us. I get it. But I see you, and all I can think about is the way you kissed me in Vegas. The way you touched me. I can’t just erase those memories, Cruz. Like I said, somehow you make me do stupid things.”

“You? I make you do stupid things?” he nearly yelled, and I was thankful for the loud, driving beat of the music beyond the office doors. “Woman, I got into a strange car for you. Illegally BASE jumped off a Ferris wheel to stay close to you. Went to jail for you, and I make you do stupid things?”

He stalked forward, his movements smooth like a predator, and a low hum filled my stomach, growing stronger with every step he took.

“I let you stay in my class. Stupid. I look for every reason to run into you, while simultaneously praying you’ll stay far away because I need this job. Stupid. I take one look at you in that fucking dress, and I’m so hard I’m afraid I can’t hide it in a room full of students. Stupid. I can’t stop thinking about the way you taste, the way you open up under me, the way your nails left little half-moons in my shoulders when I found how wet you were for me.”

If he got his hands anywhere near me, he’d find out I was just as wet now. God, his words were the biggest turn-on I’d ever experienced. Next to his abs. Or his arms. Or his mouth. Crap, the man was one giant sex package begging to be unwrapped.

“Cruz,” I whispered as he cupped my face with one hand, his thumb rubbing over my lower lip, while he caged me against the desk with the other.

My tongue licked across the tip of his finger, unable to help myself.

“God, Penelope. You could cost me everything, and yet I’m still in here with you. And this might be the worst choice of all.”

His mouth met mine in a kiss that sent my senses reeling. His tongue swept in, claiming every curve he might have missed last time, until it felt like my mouth belonged to him.

One of my hands flew to his bicep while the other tangled in his hair. If all I got was this one time to kiss him, to feel like he was mine, then I was taking advantage of every second. I kissed him back with everything I had, sliding my tongue into his mouth to trace that sensitive line behind his teeth.

I felt his growl through the rumble of his chest, and he grabbed my ass with his free hand, lifting me against him. Maybe it was the strength in his arms, or his sheer size, but Cruz did something no other man had ever managed—he made me feel tiny, protected, cherished. Pure lust zipped through me, lighting my nerves on fire, knowing he was the only one who could put me out.

No one else made me want like this, or feel so desperate, electric—only Cruz.

“God, you’re so damn beautiful tonight,” he said against my mouth before kissing me again, this one deeper, slower, and infinitely more sensuous. It was an assault on all my senses, and he drew out every second, controlling each aspect of the caress. Never had the slow bite of my lower lip sent such shots of pure need through me, which was rivaled only by the leisurely, thorough way he tilted my head and kissed me like he had all the time in the world. In those few stolen, forbidden seconds I realized how badly I wanted them to be forever.

This was a high worth chasing. He was a risk worth taking.

My hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt as he flipped us so that he leaned against the desk with me between his outstretched legs. I rubbed against him, reveling in the power he gave over to me, the knowledge that this man had one weakness—and it was me.

His hand slid through the slit of my dress until he gripped my thigh lightly. The brush of his thumb near the line of my thong made me arch, pushing into his grip. “More,” I begged.

“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured as he set his mouth to my neck.

I gasped. He may as well have found my “push here for sex” button with his damned tongue.

My fingers trailed down the hard muscles of his chest. “Every time I see you like this, or in a shirt and tie, there’s a part of my brain that flashes to what you look like without it,” I admitted. “All gorgeous muscles and golden skin. Then I have the most ludicrous urge to strip you and lick every line of your abs. Every time I see you, Cruz. Every time.”

“Penelope,” he groaned. “You can’t say things like that to me.”

He took my mouth again, this time the kiss taking on an urgent tone as the beat of the music shifted outside.

He was hard against my stomach, and if he’d moved the slightest of inches, I’d finally be able to get my hands on—

Click.

Lightning quick, Cruz spun us so I was against the desk, simultaneously breaking the kiss and stepping back from me until there were a few feet between us.

“Enough with the alone time, Pennaaaaaaoly shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I froze, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk as my eyes locked with Cruz’s, like maybe Rachel’s voice behind him didn’t actually belong to her. Maybe if we stayed just like this, she’d have T. rex vision and not really see us.

My breath was erratic, but his was steady as he closed his eyes as if he was in pain and then opened them with a new resolve.

My legs finally got the memo to move, and I walked around his still frame. “Hey, Rachel, what’s up?” I forced out with a grin plastered so hard to my face that it would have cracked if touched.

Her mouth hung open. It looked like I’d accidentally managed the task no one really could—I’d shocked the hell out of Rachel. “I…um…” Her gaze flickered between us, like she couldn’t quite piece together what she’d walked in on.

God, I hoped she couldn’t.

“Rachel, I’m going to need just a second.”

“Are you…?” she started.

Cruz turned, then moved directly to my side. “Miss Dawson, if you’d wait in the hall for a moment?”

Her eyes popped so wide I thought they might fall out. “Dr. Del…Dr. Delgado, yeah. Absolutely,” she mumbled and hurried out. I saw the outline of her head through the frosted glass as she leaned back against the door.

“She won’t tell anyone,” I promised as Cruz put his hands behind his neck and looked at the ceiling. “It’s not like she even really saw anything.” When he didn’t respond, I drove on. “I mean, honestly, she didn’t see anything because you were over here, and I was there, so…”

His jaw flexed a couple of times as he obviously struggled.

“Cruz.”

“No.” The word was harsh.

“I know she won’t,” I said, reaching for him but thinking twice about it and letting my hand fall to the side of my dress.

“Fuck,” he cursed, but it wasn’t directed at me, more at himself. “You have no idea what just almost happened. I could lose my job. I could lose everything. I can’t…you shouldn’t…we can never…”

“At least look at me while you’re rejecting me,” I requested softly.

He spun, those dark eyes pinning me in place against the desk. “Rejecting you? It’s pretty damn obvious that I’m incapable of rejecting you, even when it puts my entire future in jeopardy, so cut it with the self-deprecating language.”

My spine straightened, and I raised my chin. “Nothing is going to happen, and even if she had seen something, Rachel won’t out us. I would bet my life on her.”

“So you expect me to bet mine?” he seethed. His shoulders dropped, and he rubbed his hands over his stubbled jaw. “I don’t know her. Hell, I barely know you. There is no us, Penelope. There can’t be. I am your professor, you are my student, and I have worked too hard to get here to let it all crumble away because I can’t control my dick.”

I blinked, something ugly unfurling in my belly where the warmth had been. “So it’s all about your dick?”

“No, and that’s the issue. This”—he waved his hand between us like he could see the nearly palpable connection—“can never happen again. Ever. If that means I run in the other direction when we’re in a social setting, or we agree to never speak outside the classroom again, then so be it. It can’t happen again, Penelope,” he repeated like I was a child he needed to get through to—needed to teach.

“You kissed me, remember?” I snapped back.

“That was a mistake.” His eyes dropped to my mouth, and if not for the battle in his eyes, I might have kissed him again just to prove the damn point that he wanted me—that I wasn’t a mistake. “Everything between us has been one failed lapse in judgment after another, and it ends now.”

“You can’t end something you never started.” I tore my eyes from him, unable to look at his gorgeous face, deep brown eyes, and that mouth that was currently telling me I was all wrong for him.

“This is for the best. I’ll be the adult here. This is never happening again,” he repeated, like he needed to say it to himself this time.

Logically, I knew he was right, but that voice was small compared to the pissed-off one currently in control of my mouth. The clock read ten fifteen, and I laughed softly. “The good news is that it’s International Date Line day, right? Or night, I guess. We’ll cross the date line in a couple hours, and it will be February sixth all over again. Today never happened. This never happened.”

I pushed past him and opened the door to find Rachel guarding it. “What the hell is going— Oh, Penna, are you okay?” Her tone changed the instant her eyes met mine.

“Sure, of course.” I forced a smile. “What’s up?”

Her gaze darted over my shoulder and back to me. “Remember that cake I told you about? Pax needs you on the staircase so you can make seven tiers worth of wishes.”

Oh God. My birthday. The first time Brooke wouldn’t stand next to me as I blew out my candles. The first time I wouldn’t have her hugging me and telling me that the best thing about birthdays was knowing we’d always spend them together because boys walked away but blood stayed.

“It’s your birthday?” Cruz asked from behind me.

Cruz, who didn’t think I was worth the risk. Because I wasn’t. You didn’t spend ten years working toward a career to throw it away on the first student who crossed your path. Seriously, you were actually the first student to meet him. I almost laughed, but I couldn’t find the energy.

I smoothed out the lines of my dress and stood straighter. “That’s none of your concern, Dr. Delgado.” Too much. There was too much going on. Cruz, the cake, the cameras… I checked the end of the hallway and, sure enough, Bobby’s cameramen were waiting.

“Pen—”

I shot a look over my shoulder at him. How dare he look destroyed, torn, when he’d just crumpled me up like a useless receipt from an ill-planned vacation. “You should stay in there for a few more minutes. At least until the cameras are gone.”

Rachel held out her hand, and I nearly lost it at the gesture she never would have made when she came aboard three months ago—that’s how far our friendship had come. I took it, composing myself and nearly crushing her hand in the process, but I knew she could handle it. Rachel was hard like I was, but strong in a way I hadn’t felt in such a long time.

I gave her a single head nod, and we walked down the hallway while I got my shit together. “Nothing happened.”

“Yeah, okay. Because it looked like—”

“I don’t care what it looked like. Nothing happened.” Apprehension slithered up my spine. What if she had seen something? What if it had been someone else? “You can’t tell anyone,” I whispered.

“I thought nothing happened to tell.”

“Not even Landon.”

“Penna…”

I shot her a look that said so many things. Please. Help me. You owe me.

“Fine, but we’re talking about this later.”

“Deal. I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday,” I whispered. “I told him that.”

Her eyes softened. “I know. They just want to celebrate you.”

My face twisted as it all caught up to me, and Rachel quickly stepped in front of me and took my face in her hands.

“Say the word, and we’ll walk out the back. You owe those cameras nothing.”

“But I owe Nick everything.” Nick, who had sat with me while I hit the ramp time and again on the snowmobile, perfecting my whip until I was good enough to stand on top of an all-male podium at the X Games.

Nick who destroyed Brooke’s heart and then her mind.

“Not this, you don’t.”

“No, I can do it.” I sure as hell wasn’t going to let Cruz Delgado take anything else. “I can do it,” I repeated, stronger this time.

She searched my eyes for a few moments, then nodded. “Then smile pretty for the cameras, Rebel, because the whole world is watching you.”

Rachel was right. Penna needed to hide. Penelope needed to scream at Cruz. Rebel needed to step forward and lock both of those needs away and smile for the documentary.

Dropping Rachel’s hand, I stood taller, smiled brighter, and walked by her side through the crowd while Pax called out for me on the microphone. Then I walked up the stairs, careful not to trip, and blew out the candles on the extravagant cake Pax ordered for me, all while wishing that something, anything, would go right in my life.

We posed for pictures, the three Originals, while the staff cut the cake, and then I smiled until my face hurt.

I did my duty for one simple reason: I was a Renegade before anything else—because there was nothing else for me.