The Rendezvous // Thomas Sangster

Confessions and Way Too Much Angst

The car ride home was frigid. Not just physically.

Dylan could sense Thomas's tension just as well as I could and he remained silent in the backseat for the whole ride. I knew why Thomas was upset, but I didn't understand it. 

Why wouldn't he want me at the rebellion?

 Once we dropped Dylan back off at the camp ground, Thomas began speeding home. In the growing darkness, the daffodil sun sank beneath her earthen covers. I try talking to him, but all he does is ignore me and continue driving. We finally arrive back at his house and he starts sliding out of the car when I grab his arm, "Thomas, please, talk to me."

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he speaks.

"I can't even look at you right now, Stephanie." He says through gritted teeth, keeping his eyes trained on the steering wheel. 

"I want to know why you don't want me at the rebellion!" I explode, making him turn to look at me. To my surprise, I find that he not only looks angry, but he also looks scared. I continue on anyway, "There's no explanation except for how dangerous it's going to be, but I already know that! I thought you said I was a part of this now? Or was that a lie?"

"You are a part of this, Stephanie!" Thomas says, frustratedly running his hands through his hair, "But if you go, you could be hurt. You've already lost too much, Steph. You've suffered enough. It's time you won. Let me win this battle for you, though. You don't need to be there."

"Thomas, you can't expect me to sit back and let someone else fight my own battles!" I exclaim, "I can't just let someone do this for me; it's something I've got to do myself. I want to be there." 

"And I don't want you to be there!"

I glower at him, locking my jaw, "So my opinion doesn't matter then? What I want doesn't matter?"

"No, I - that's not what I said." He says, his voice lowering as he looks away from me again. He casts his eyes down, deep in thought. He stares out of the car, but I can tell that his mind is somewhere far away. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, "Stephanie, do you ever think I'd be able to forgive myself if something happened to you?"

"Thomas," I reply quietly, "If something happened to me it would be because I made this choice. It wouldn't affect you."

He looks up at me with an aggrieved expression, mumbling in an undertone, "Surely, you don't actually think that?"

I frown, "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head bitterly, "You can't possibly think that if something happened to you it wouldn't affect me?"

"Thomas, why do you care if I get hurt if we're both fighting for something we believe in?" I say, baffled. 

"Because I'm in love with you, damn it!" He explodes, throwing his hands in the air and turning in his seat to face me.

My mouth falls open as I stare at the man in front of me. The rude, brash, sweet, hilarious man in front of me, who has annoyed and protected me from the day I first set foot in this town. I try to wrap my head around what he just said, but the only coherent thought I have slips out of my mouth, "Oh."

He shakes his head, looking forward again, "I would have thought that you'd figured it out by now. Since we've made out several times and I'm letting you stay at my house."

"I-," I start, but pause to gather my thoughts, "I wasn't exactly sure. You aren't the best at verbally communicating, and I'm also just a naturally oblivious person."