A Runaway Mate

Chapter Four.

Rebel's Point of View.

Making the trek up the stairs, I mentally assaulted myself, cursing to my idiocy. Why did I tell Finn about one of my many drunken stories? About my meaningless tattoos or even about what Mom had told me so many years ago. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, Finn was slowly worming his way past my guard. He had this charm and almost dry humor that made him seem...adorable. I shook my head, I needed to be careful and think of a better solution to get out of this damned town before it was too late.

Once inside Finn's room, I plopped down on the bed and closed my sore eyes. Finn walked in, closing the door behind him. I could hear his footsteps as he made his way over and dropped something at my feet. Peaking open an eye, my bookbag came into view. I shoved it away with my foot, kick off my shoes, and crawled under the covers. I wasn't physically tied, but mentally I was drained. Turning to face the wall, my teeth sunk into my bottom lip. Finn sighed and flicked off the night, letting the room flood into darkness despite the sunset. I sighed too, letting sleep claw at my mind.

Finn's Point of View.

My eyes peeled open, adjusting to the room. From outside, birds chirped in the crisp morning air and the scent of Rebel wafted about the room. I looked to the bed, momentarily startled about seeing it empty once again but calmed when I heard the television downstairs running. I could hear the crouch groan as Rebel shifted around on it and when she turned up the volume.

Throwing the blanket from my body and stopped quickly by a mirror to check my bedhead, I jogged downstairs and to the kitchen. I asked, “Did you want something to eat?”

From the living room, Rebel gave a mumbled, “Yeah.”

Grabbing the last box of macaroni and cheese, I filled a pot with water and waited for it to come to a boil. When the noodles were done bathing and Rebel and I had finished our food, I washed the bowls and sat on the opposite side of the couch. I glanced at her from the corner of my eyes, watching her as she stared at the television. With twiddling fingers and my throat cleared, I asked, “So, uh, did you want to go shopping or something? We could get new clothes.”

“Are you saying the one's I'm wearing isn't good enough for you?” she retorted, never tearing her gaze from the TV.

My eyes widened. “N-No, that's not what I mean at all. It's just like—”

“I'm joking with you,” Rebel stated, looking to me with an amused stare. Her blonde brows raised. “Don't take this so seriously, Finn.”

I blinked when she said my name, butterflies erupting in my stomach. I hadn't expected Rebel to tease me. “Oh,” I smiled to myself.

Rebel stood from the couch to get ready, which only consisted of her fixing her hair and brushing her teeth. She didn't have any other clean clothes she had admitted to me while I picked out a pair of jeans for myself. As she put on her ragged shoes, I grabbed the car keys.

Drinking into town and parking in front of a clothes store. When we entered the building, a worker made her way over and asked if we needed help. I declined as Rebel made her way over to the female section of the store.

Hours had passed and I held an armful of various clothing articles. When Rebel decided that was all she needed, we walked to the cashier. As she scanned the clothes, Rebel produced a wad of cash from her pockets.

I looked down at the rolled bills. “What're you doing?”

“Um, paying?”

“Um, no,” I mocked her, standing in front of the worker. I smiled politely at her. After she ran up the total, I swiped the card and carried the clothing bags from the stores.

“I could've paid for them myself, you know,” Rebel insisted.

“You could've,” I agreed, “but I wasn't about to let you.”

“I don't really need permission.”

“You don't, but you didn't decline, either.” I smirked down at my mate.

She turned away, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

We entered another clothing store after I decided there wasn't enough clothes for Rebel. She had began to argue but quickly simmered down once I told her we could get food after. Although she stood to the side—her arms crossing her chest—I looked through the clothes for her. And soon discovered that the majority of the articles were ugly, not her preferred style, or too revealing. I didn't wish for people to catch a glimpse of what was mine.

Still sorting through the clothes, I said, “Maybe we should try another store.” I waited for a reply. “Rebel?” Turning around, my eyes widen at the empty spot she had been standing in. I cursed at myself and went to the front counter where a male worker flipped lazily through a magazine. “Hey, did you see the girl I was with? Short, blonde, pretty hot?”

“I dunno, man. I saw some blondie walk out but then again I see a lot of blondes come in and out. Everyday, all day.”

Looking strangely at the man, I replied. “Um, thanks.”

Walking out of the building, I scanned the stores across the street and instantly spotted my troubling mate. She stood with her back towards me, and despite the slight anger that coursed through me, my eyes briefly dropped to her plump bottom. Rushing across the street, my scolding died in my chest upon seeing the sigh of an awestruck Rebel. Her face was pushed close the the music store's glass window. I looked to the sight she stared at, seeing an acoustic guitar.

I laughed and shook my head. “I think you have a little drool on the side of your mouth,” I teased.

Rebel stepped closer the the glass, her hands bracing against it. “It has an Ebony wood bridge unit, twin Maple top and bottom, and a custom design.”

I nodded, as if I understood what she was rambling about. I looked to the guitar again and smiled. “C'mon.” Hesitantly, I grabbed her tiny hand in mine, enjoying the way sparks jolted through my arm. My Wolf stirred deeply in my brain, feeling content.

Entering the store, a sales worker spoke from behind the desk. “Can I help you?”

Looking over to the view of a older man with a gray mustache, I walked to the counter while Rebel roamed the store. “How much for the guitar in the window?”

The man peered around me to the guitar in question. “Eight-hundred.”

My brows shot to my hairline and I whistled. “Pretty expensive.”

“That guitar there is custom made with fine craftsmanship. If you wanna good guitar you gotta pay a pretty penny.”

I sighed and was relieved that the pack wasn't tight on money. Paying for the guitar and watching Rebel closely, the idea of surprising her came to me. I asked the guy if he could watch her, I rushed back to the car and put the gift back in the truck. As I came back to the store, I picked up Rebel and we walked back together. An excited smile played at my lips, to which Rebel took notice in. She continued to glance at me during the car ride.

As we arrived home, Rebel carried the clothing bags inside. I paused and listened to her walk up the steps. Walking to the truck and grabbed the encased guitar, I arrived to the bedroom's door and peered inside. “Close your eyes,” I told her.

“What, why?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay, Nike.” Her eyes slipped closed as she sat on the bed.

Carefully working my way inside the room, I gingerly sat the guitar case onto Rebel's lap. I stepped back and said, “All right, look.”

Rebel peaked open her eyes and they instantly went to me. But as they slowly trailed down, she gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. Her breathing accelerated as she unclasped the metal latches and opened the case. Her bottom lip was pulled between her teeth, her eyes glistening beneath the room's lights. She sat, admiring the gift until she closed it and set it aside on the bed. Standing from the bed and briskly walked to me. My smile faltered, confused to what she was doing. Was she about to hit me? Pull my hair again? 

But I was stunned—frozen still—as her tiny arms wrapped around my waist.