Crash into You (Pushing the Limits, #3)(67)

“Green?” That is a beyond odd question—I mean it’s normal, yet not.

“Tacos or spaghetti?”

“Tacos.”

“Disney World or Disneyland?”

“Neither.”

“Rolling Stones or Beatles?”

“Beatles.”

She squishes her lips to the left. “Oh, so close, but I can let the last one go.” Abby regards Isaiah with the same familiarity I have with my brothers. “We should keep her, but we may have to set up a visitation schedule. You know, control issues and all.”

My eyebrows rise. “Keep me?” Abby’s words crash in my mind. “Control issues?”

She pokes a finger at her chest. “My issues. Not his. You and I are going to be friends, and I don’t do friendships. Well, I obviously do,” she adds as her finger lazily points to Isaiah. “But he doesn’t count. See, we met inside of a Dumpster when we were ten.”

My eyes widen to the point I start to wonder if I’ll ever blink again.

“Abby,” says Isaiah, interrupting her before she can continue. “Shut the f*ck up.”

“Okay.” The Rolling Stones’ “Miss You” plays from her phone. “Shit,” she says. “Hold on a sec.” She answers and heads outside.

“Wow.” It’s the only response I can think of.

“That’s one way to describe her. Look, if you don’t want to deal with her...”

“No,” I interrupt. “She’s your friend...”

And he interrupts me. “But if she makes you uncomfortable...”

My turn. “I like her.” From the moment she said that we’d be friends, I liked her.

I walk away from Isaiah and stand near the open hood of his car. Holy hell, he’s been busy. “You installed a cold air intake.” That will help increase the horsepower in his car.

Isaiah runs a hand over his freshly buzzed dark brown hair. He kept the shadowed stubble on his jaw. If it’s possible, the combination makes him so much sexier and more dangerous.

“I’m serious about Abby. She’s different. I put up with her because I’ve known her longer than anyone else. That type of stuff is important to me, but if Abby bothers you, then I’ll make sure she keeps her distance.”

I touch the curved piece he added to the engine. “Did you really meet her inside a Dumpster?”

When he doesn’t answer immediately, I sneak a peek out of the corner of my eye. His hands are on his hips as he stares at the floor. “Yeah. We were both looking for food.”

I close my eyes as my heart aches. I can’t imagine what his life has been like.

“I don’t want your pity,” he says with a mix of hurt and pride.

“I’m not offering you pity.” Understanding hopefully, not pity. It’s not much, and it’s not nearly on the same level, but it still causes me enough pain that I can’t face him. “I don’t have friends. I have my brothers, and there are some girls at school that I can sit with at lunch if I want to, but they don’t get bent out of shape if I don’t show. I’m...I’m weird.”

His boots tap against the floor as he moves in my direction. “No, you’re not.”

I stiffen, irritated and tired of everyone telling me what I am. “How many girls do you know who work on cars, like speed and can happily tell you what a cold air intake looks like?”

Isaiah places his fingers underneath my chin and tilts my head in his direction. “Only one, and she’s my type of girl.”

A flurry of rose petals swirls in my chest. I swallow and remind myself to breathe. He lowers his head as I lick my lips. His warm breath mingles with mine and right as our lips come close to connecting, the garage door squeaks open.

I flinch as if jolted with electricity and immediately slide a foot away from Isaiah. He softly chuckles. An audience obviously wouldn’t bother him. I toss him a dirty look that only makes him chuckle more.

“You’ve got company,” says Abby. Right behind her is the guy that showed with that girl Beth. My hand goes to my stomach as it cramps. Isaiah and the guy share a short shake. “Logan, remember Rachel?”

He nods at me. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” My eyes flicker from him to the door as I keep waiting for her to show. A strange uneasiness curls between my skin and bones. Beautiful, confident, mysterious Beth: the antithesis of me and everything a guy like Isaiah should want.

This week, Isaiah explained how Logan will race his car while Isaiah drives my car at the dragway. The better parts will go into my car since it’s in better condition.

Isaiah never mentioned anything about Beth helping, and I never asked. After Isaiah announced that she wasn’t his girlfriend, I thought I could let her go, but the uncertainty of what his relationship was with her before I crashed into his life gnaws at my soul.

Isaiah claps his hands then rubs them together. “We’ve got a turbocharger, a cold air intake, an exhaust cutout to install and a girl with a curfew. Let’s move.”

*

With anxiety coiled and poised to spring on a moment’s notice, I digress to a bad habit: nibbling on my nails. I used to bite, but then my mother would have an aneurysm when she’d see what I’d done to my manicure.