Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(104)

“Tell me why you’re fighting me. What are you scared of?”

Beth’s fingernails dig into the skin of my arm. “I’m scared of      nothing.”

“I love you,” I say again and Beth’s panic rises in intensity.      She pushes at my arms. The words scare her. She’s scared of love. “I love you,      Beth.”

She raises her face and fire rages in her eyes. “Stop saying      that!”

“Why?” Without meaning to, I shake her gently. I want her to      say it back. “I’m in love with you. Tell me why I can’t say it to you.”

“Because you’ll leave!” she screams.

Beth’s chest heaves as if she ran a race. My hold on her      tightens. Rain beats against the pond and the trees, creating a strange deafness      from the world surrounding us.

“I couldn’t.” Never. Leaving her would be like tearing off my      own arm. I’ve never been in love before. I thought I had been, but I wasn’t.      This overwhelming, encompassing feeling is love. It’s not perfect and it’s messy      as hell. And it’s exactly what I need.

She steps back and the pouring rain makes it impossible to keep      my grip on her slick arms, but I do my best to hold on. My heart aches. Beth’s      doing it again. She’s walking away. Desperation seizes my muscles. If she      leaves, I’ll lose her for good and I can’t. Not when I just found her. “Don’t      walk away from me.”

“I have a gypsy soul.” Beth yanks her hands out of my grasp and      stumbles backward. “We won’t work.”

Why is she always slipping through my fingers? “You’re the one      leaving me. Not the other way around.”

She wraps her hands over her stomach as she continues to walk      backward. “I’m sorry.”

Anger erupts from deep inside and takes control. I don’t lose      and I won’t lose her. Beth turns and runs for the forest. She’s fast, but I’m      faster. I grab Beth by the waist, yank her to face me, tunnel my fingers into      her hair, and kiss her.

She tastes like fresh rain and smells like crushed roses. I      don’t care that she’s not kissing back. I move my lips against hers and hug her      body to mine. I love Beth and she needs to know that. Know it in her head. More      importantly, know it in her heart.

Her fingers lightly tickle my neck as I taste her warm lips.      She answers by hesitantly kissing my lower lip. Beth tilts her head and we both      open our mouths. Her tongue meets mine and I swear the world explodes around us.      Her hands tangle in my wet hair and she presses her body into me. She roams my      back, and my fingers hungrily touch the soft contours of her waist, then drift      lower, gliding along the curves of her thighs. I won’t let her go. I won’t. I      love her.

Beth gasps for air as she pulls my head closer to her body. My      lips trail kisses down her neck and I savor each delicious taste of her      skin.

Her hands slide to my chest, curl into fists, and she pushes me      away as she takes a step back. “I can’t do this!” And she runs off into the      rain.

*

I’ve stared at the computer since ten. At eleven, I’m      still staring. The cursor blinks on and off. I’ve got no words. The decision has      to be made. Do George the zombie and Olivia the human fall in love and stay      together, or is Beth right? Am I forcing my characters into something so      unrealistic that no reader would ever believe it?

My cell vibrates again. I glance at it in anticipation. Maybe      it’s Beth. I sink lower in my chair. It’s Gwen. Again.

Gwen: why aren’t you       answering?

Because I’m not in love with you. She’s not used to being      denied. I’m not used to denying her and her constant barrage of texts and calls      throughout the night shoves the knife further into my windpipe. I’m in love with      a girl who doesn’t love me back.

Part of me wants to answer Gwen and go back to my previous      life. Nothing was complicated then. Nothing hurt too much or seemed confusing.      Everything was planned. Perfect.

On the outside, that is. How did I miss that everything      internal was a mess? My parents. Mark. Me and Gwen. Lacy. Is Chris a mess?      Logan? How many more of us are faking the facade? How many more of us are      pretending to be something we’re not? Even better, how many of us will have the      courage to be ourselves regardless of what others think?