Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits, #1.5)(64)

Closing the computer and swiping it up, I shove away from the desk and poke my head into the hallway. Looking sexy as hell with her damp hair and wearing a pair of drawstring pants plus a shirt that fits snugly across her breasts, Echo leans against the wall across from me.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she parrots. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No. “Do you want to tell me why Mrs. Collins is stalking you from yesterday?”

“Not particularly.” Echo holds up the Styrofoam container. “Dinner?”

“Let’s go.”





Echo

Because the streetlamps illuminate the hotel parking lot like noon at the equator, the stars aren’t visible, and I’m perfectly fine with avoiding the constellations tonight. Noah and I sit on the hood of my Honda Civic and share the sweet-and-sour chicken. Noah would have grabbed food at work, but I picked Chinese because that’s one of his favorites to eat...mine, too. It’s the simple things that we have in common that create warm fuzzies.

The container rests on our joint knees, and I like the closeness of the meal. We’ve been quiet, but this type of familiar quiet is a gift. We’re synchronized, and I love it.

Noah likes to combine the pineapple with his chicken so I push the last pineapple chunk in his direction. I pop another bite of chicken into my mouth then twist the fork to him.

“You better watch it.” Noah hands me the rest of the egg roll while taking the fork. Like I predicted, he goes for his preferred combo. “You’ll get my cooties.”

I choke on the egg roll, and Noah pats my back as I cough down my dinner. He cracks open the water and offers it to me. The cool liquid helps, and I hand it back to him when I can properly breathe. “Did you say cooties?”

Noah chuckles. “Yeah.”

“Cooties seems like too tame of a word for you.”

He winks and scoops another forkful. “I like to keep you guessing.”

“Well, it’s too late. I already have your cooties.”

Noah finishes chewing and peers at me. “There’s a party tomorrow night. We should go.”

I study the egg roll like it can read my fortune. Let’s see: drunk guys, me with scars on my arms and a high Beth. Sounds like a freaking fantastic time. Why didn’t I think of it earlier? “I don’t know. Where’s it going to be?”

“Around. Someone from work is throwing it. We should go. It’s been a while since we’ve let loose.”

“Let loose?” I repeat. “Did you block out how drunk you were the night of the beaver with headphones?”

“I got drunk to block out the beaver with headphones. Not to have a good time.”

Noah rarely asks for anything, and he’s probably itching to do something fun since Isaiah’s in town. “You, Beth and Isaiah should go. I’ll stay in.” I wiggle my bare toes and fake a smile. “My feet are in desperate need of a home pedi, and that’s sort of weird to do with a boyfriend around.”

Noah scratches the spot above his eyebrow. “I want you to go.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll be fun, and I want you there.”

I shrug, feeling a little peer-pressured and not appreciating it. “I’m not a big party fan.”

“One of the first times we talked was at a party, and you were drunk.”

I grin at the memory of me spilling my private thoughts to the great Noah Hutchins on the back patio of Michael Blair’s house. “That proves my point. Lila blackmailed me into that party, and I was drunk out of self-preservation with a little desperation thrown in for good measure. It was either the party or having dinner with my father and Ashley. I chose the party.”

“You drank at the party at my foster parents’ house.”

What is this, the Spanish Inquisition for underage drinking? Losing my appetite, I toss the rest of the egg roll into the container. “One beer and it took me three hours to finish it. I spent most of the time drawing, talking to Antonio, then making out with you in the basement. In case you noticed, I’m not stopping you from going. I’m encouraging you.”

“That’s not the point.” Noah stabs his fork into the chicken, slides off the car then throws the container into a nearby garbage can. “I want to spend time with you at a party. Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

“Sure. I love it when drunk guys make fun of my scars, and then you get pissed off and punch them in the jaw. Which will be great because Isaiah will be here, and if you hit someone and that someone hits you back, Isaiah’s going to kill them. Yeah, that sounds like a fabulous time. I don’t know why we don’t do it every single stinking night. Before we go, can you tell me how much bail is in Colorado, because otherwise I’ll have to call my father to wire the money to get the two of you out of prison.”

Noah throws his arms out. “Is that how you see me, Echo? Most likely to spend time in prison?”

“No! I don’t, but I do know that you lose your temper when someone hurts me, and what’s frustrating is that I don’t even know why we’re fighting, so do you mind telling me what your problem is?”

Noah places his hands on his hips and lowers his head. “Nothing. Just forget it.”