The Rebel Next Door

The Rebel Next Door Emily Whitlock Copyright © 2023 by Emily Whitlock All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Also By Emily Whitlock Chapter One Charlotte The diner is bustling with hungry customers, each clamoring for my attention as I take their order. Moving quickly between tables, I try to keep up with the demand. I hurry around the restaurant, clearing up empty plates and glasses. Despite my best efforts, I still feel a churning in my stomach. I push it away, determined to finish my tasks before succumbing to its demands. But as I continue to gather debris from the tables, the feeling of nausea only intensifies. Fear floods through me as I realize that at any moment, I will have to dash away and make it to the bathroom in time. My heart racing, I grab a towel and quickly wipe down the countertops, then dash off toward the back of the restaurant. My stomach roils with every step, but somehow, I make it just in time. Once inside the restroom, I immediately rush into a stall and let out a sigh of relief as my stomach unclenches its grip. Sitting there for several minutes until I'm sure that everything has passed, I finally stand up and take a deep breath. Wiping away beads of sweat from my forehead, I am grateful for making it in time—the thought of being ill in full view of customers is nauseating in itself. For now, I know that my stomach is back under control and I can return to my tasks in the restaurant with no fear of embarrassing myself, but how long will that last? As I glance at my reflection in the mirror, I gather my shoulder-length chestnut hair and tie it up into a neat ponytail. My bangs rest just above my hazel eyes, accentuating their unique color. My ivory skin is flush with a rosy, pink hue, brought on by the exertion of working a long shift. Traces of makeup have all but disappeared, leaving my face looking natural, but fatigued. I frown at my reflection. Today hasn’t been easy. Once I'm sure that everything is back under control and that my stomach has settled, I turn on the cold water and splash my face, trying to shake off the feeling of fatigue and dizziness that seems to plague me constantly. Why does this have to feel this way? I finally muster up the energy to finish my tasks in the restaurant and trudge out of the restroom. As soon as I enter the dining room, however, I'm greeted by a huge smile from my closest friend, Bianca. Her brown eyes are wide with excitement. She's practically bouncing with anticipation. "Look who just walked in," she whispers, gesturing toward the door. I turn my head towards where she's looking, noticing my new neighbor Brandon walking toward one of my tables. My heart sinks as I look over his handsome features. He was the biggest mistake of my life. His intense blue gaze meets mine, and I'm frozen in place, unable to move or speak. I pretend not to notice the way he fills out his jeans and t-shirt, his muscular body on full display, the dark tattoos lining his arms. Memories come flooding back, reminding me of the pain and heartbreak he caused me. I take a deep breath, trying to push down the emotions that threaten to overwhelm me. My heart pounds in my chest as I take a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself. I look down at my trembling hands and let out a sigh. I knew that seeing Brandon again was inevitable, but I had hoped it wouldn't be so soon. "I'll wait for him," Bianca offers, looking me up and down with concerned eyes. "Thank you," I reply as she walks away, shooting me a look of sympathy as she does. I gather the dishes from the table, trying my best to avoid any eye contact with him. I can’t bear the risk of breaking down again. Memories of his touch still linger on my skin, reminding me of our night together. With those memories comes immense heartbreak, the painful reminder of his sudden distance. As I stare down at the dishes, I feel his eyes on me but refuse to acknowledge him as I turn away, pretending I haven’t seen him. With a sigh, I grab a nearby tub of dishes and head to the kitchen, avoiding all eye contact. The uneasy feeling in my stomach returns and I wonder how I'm going to continue to keep my secret. As Brandon approaches me, the pressure grows stronger, making it nearly impossible to avoid his gaze. My thoughts race with unease due to his presence as I step into the busy kitchen. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the air, and I inhale deeply, trying to compose myself. Maybe I should see a doctor. At this point, nothing is certain; maybe I'm mistaken, or maybe the shred of hope that seeps into my thoughts is just a fleeting dream. But for now, I need to stay calm as I navigate through the uncertainty that lies ahead. With a heavy thud, I slam down the stack of dishes onto the counter, trying to fight back the pain surging through my body. Aunt Carrie, noticing the sudden commotion, looks at me with worry etched on her face. "Charlie, are you okay?" she asks. Attempting to hide my discomfort, I force a smile and quickly avert my eyes from