Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(109)

Maybe she’s right. Maybe she’s wrong. None of it matters.      I’m here for ten days and even if that wasn’t the case, I have a bottle of rain      to prove her wrong.





Chapter 53

Ryan

CHRIS AND I BYPASS A WOMAN      with three screaming children and an old guy guarding the shopping carts. It’s      Tuesday evening and at Chris’s insistence, I drove the two of us into Louisville      so we could shop at the Super Wal-Mart.

“Do you want to tell me why we’re here?” I ask. We have a      Wal-Mart near the freeway back in Groveton, but it’s a much smaller version and      thirty years older.

“We know the people who work at our Wal-Mart. More importantly,      our parents know the people who work there.” Chris swings to the right, away      from the food section and toward the pharmacy.

“So?”

“You want to keep Beth a secret from your parents, right?”

I cringe when he says it that way, but in the end, it’s the      truth. I want Beth to be my girl in every aspect of my life, but I need to pick      my battles. I’m going to nail the writing competition, make the decision      regarding going pro or going to college, then own up to keeping Beth. “What does      that have to do with Wal-Mart?”

Chris cuts into an aisle and waves his hand at the merchandise      in front of him. “This.”

Condoms. Everywhere. I scratch the back of my neck and try to      think of anything to say, but there isn’t a statement that could make this      moment less uncomfortable.

“You need condoms,” says Chris.

Chris and I engulf the entire cramped aisle in front of the      pharmacy. The middle-aged woman with the three kids eyes us as she walks past.      “I’m taking it slow with Beth.”

“Slow wasn’t the position I caught the two of you in yesterday.      I’m happy you’re happy, but none of us are going to be happy if little Ryans and      Beths pop out of that girl.”

Point taken. Sex may not be in the plan, but it’s best to be      prepared. “What do you use?”

He shrugs. “The normal shit. Are you going to do it? The      writing competition?”

“Yeah.” The normal shit. That narrows it down. I survey the      assortment before me. Colored, ribbed, lubricated, and because this experience      isn’t God-awful enough—they have sizes.

“We need you against Eastwick,” Chris says flatly. “We’re a      game behind Northside so we need two wins in order to move into first place. If      we don’t win against Eastwick on Saturday, then it doesn’t matter if we win or      lose against Northside on Monday.”

“I can’t play fully for both games anyhow. There’s a state law      about how many innings I can pitch, remember?” How the hell am I supposed to      know what size I am? I don’t go around staring at guys’ dicks. I don’t think I’m      small and I sure as hell wouldn’t buy small even if I was. A guy has to have      some pride.

“But you could guarantee us the win on Saturday against      Eastwick, then play the later innings against Northside. You’ve dug us out of a      hole before in later innings and if we get low on Monday, you could dig us out.      Get the glow-in-the-dark ones. I bet Beth’s into freaky shit.”

My stomach clenches. “Beth is not into freaky shit.”

“I saw her tattoo. She’s a freaky-shit kind of girl. Look, I      get that you don’t want to back out of a competition, even if it is writing, but      I’m not going to lie. You’re scaring the team. You’re the leader, dawg, and what      does it say when our leader walks from a game? The guys are starting to question      if you’re losing your edge.”

I zero in on Chris. “What does that mean?”

Chris meets my glare and I discover he’s one of the “guys.”      “I’ve never seen you walk from a dare in my life and you walked from the one      with Beth. You just gave up.”

“I didn’t give up. I fell for her.”

“Exactly. You could have bagged the dare by bringing her to the      next party, but you threw down the white flag the moment you hooked up with her.      She’s got her hooks in you and I want to make sure she’s worth it.”

Not liking the tone or turn of this conversation, I fold my      arms over my chest. “What are you trying to say?”