Chasing Impossible (Pushing the Limits, #5)(52)

I’m always smart. I’m off to be around other people who get off on proving their smart to others. I don’t have to prove shit.

Have fun with that. We hunting again tonight?

Isaiah can have a funny way with words, yet still call it straight. The past few nights, we’ve been driving around, going to places where Isaiah knows people from Eric’s side can gather. In other words, we’ve been hunting for Abby’s shooter.

Yeah. I feel like we’re running out of time.

Me too, but we’re going to need solid info to convince Abby to change. Taking Rachel out first tonight. I’ll text you when I’m done.

Since Abby pushed us all away a week ago, we’ve decided to grant Abby her space while we solved the problem. Abby’s scared that I saw her shooter and she’s going deeper into a world she needs out of to protect me. Linus can’t use the bastard who shot her against her when it comes to me if the shooter is behind bars.

I pocket my cell and enter Eastwick High. I’ve been here before, to play ball, but I’ve never been in the building. I’m slow as I take it all in and try to gauge where the hell I’m heading. Paperwork they sent said to gather in the auditorium. I follow the kid with the stick up his butt. Odds are we’re heading in the same direction.

Two girls exit a bathroom and give me a mixed-up assessment. Spark in their eyes explains that they like what they see, especially my arms. The confusion is due to my jeans, red collared polo, and Bullitt County High baseball cap on with the bill down low. Everyone else here looks the same—cows in black and white, sometimes gray, all pressed from the mold of the boring business meeting they’re about to attend.

I’d rather plug two bullets into my own brain than sit in business meetings for the rest of my life. Don’t plan on dressing for that part later, why the hell would I play the part now?

A roar of voices echoes into the hallway and when I enter the auditorium it’s a herd of them down toward the stage. Black pants or skirts. White shirts. The individuality of the beasts being moved from one field to another and eventually to the butcher.

Moo.

I drop into the first wooden folding seat in the back and when I glance down the row a smile stretches across my face. It’s long dark hair, devilish lips meant to kiss, jeans that no doubt hug her ass in a way that causes my blood to turn hot, and a girl oblivious to the world as she scrolls on her phone.

I stand, stride down four more seats and then plop into the seat next to her. Abby’s head snaps up like she’s about to explain Revelations to me using her fists and instead her mouth pops open without sound escaping.

“So you weren’t shitting on the smart,” I say.

Abby recovers quickly and powers off her phone. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You see the guy down there?” She wiggles her fingers toward the herd. “Older guy? Looks like he should be filed away in one of those old-school card catalogs in a library? The one everyone is falling all over?”

The lone adult loving being in charge. “Yeah.”

“I’m blackmailing him.”

Abby’s hazel eyes give nothing away and this is one of the million reasons why I love being around her. A puzzle that’s always switching shape. I’m trying to gauge the lie or the truth because she’s capable of anything at any time. “With what?”

She glances around as if she cares people are listening and when she leans into me, I can’t help but narrow my gaze on her lips. “He watches cat porn.”

The chuckle rumbles up and out from my chest. “Cat porn?”

Abby straightens back in her seat and winks. “Look it up. It’s totally a thing.”

“This mean you’re talking to me again?”

“No. I’m currently not talking to you. This is all in your imagination. I’m not talking to you, you’re not talking to me, in fact, I’m not even here. You should get your head checked, Logan. Hallucinations are so nineteen sixties.”

“What if I’m not here, either?” I join the game. “What if neither of us are here? I’m home. You’re home. This is all some messed-up dream.”

Abby smiles—a soft tip of the ends of that gorgeous mouth.

We don’t need to have the conversation. She’s not changing her mind. I’m not changing mine, but Abby’s here, I’m here and we’ve got a few minutes where Abby’s going to do what she loves to do best—pretend.

I bump my knee into hers, and I recall the night in her room and the feel of her legs tangled with mine. “I miss you.”

Abby releases a breath while flipping her cell in her hand. “Yeah...well...” She places her arm on our shared armrest. Her smooth skin touches mine and I become hyperaware.

She scowls and slumps in her seat like she’s lost and continues to flip her cell. Her fingers are there, next to mine and my heart picks up speed at the thought of taking them. Shouldn’t be hard. Shouldn’t be difficult. I’ve kissed Abby. In ways that if circumstances had been different clothes would have been shed.

Holding hands—that means something. That says something. And putting myself out there with the chance of her withdrawing shakes my world more than I’d care to admit. But time with Abby is a premium and I hate being a wuss.

The old guy claps his hands as if we’re young enough to be lead into circle time and everyone settles into seats. He goes on to explain what an honor it is to be chosen for today. How the people in this room are the best of the best. Scored higher and out performed. That the people in this room are the solutions to problems in our future.