Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(63)

The windshield wipers spring to life, clearing our view, and      Ryan jerks the wheel to the right to miss a sprawling tree. He enters a clearing      and kills the engine. I hear laughter and suck in a breath when I realize it’s      mine...and his. Together. It sounds nice. Kind of like music.

Ryan has that smile again. The genuine one that makes my      stomach flip. He had it at Taco Bell. He had it when Scott introduced us. He      does it with such ease and for a second I believe his smile is for me.

“You’re smiling,” he says.

I absently touch my face as if I’m surprised by the      news.

“You should do that more. It’s pretty.” He pauses. “You’re      pretty.”

My heart does this strange fluttering. Like it’s stopping      and starting at the same time. Heat creeps up my neck and flushes my face. What      the hell? I’m blushing again?

“I’m sorry.” Ryan keeps the enduring smile, but it turns a      little repentant and his eyes cast down in a shy way.

“No, it was fun.” The most fun I’ve had in weeks. The most      fun I’ve had sober in...my mind ticks back and I come up empty. Life sucks      sober.

“Yeah.” His eyes become distant and the grin stays on his      face, but I can tell it’s a little forced. He blinks and the smile becomes      natural again. “Yeah. The creek. I should have told you that was coming. Or      slowed down.”

Why I can’t hold eye contact with him for longer than a      second, I don’t know. The uncharacteristic bashfulness causes me to feel      inadequate and a little...girly? I lace my hands together and focus on them.      “Really. It’s okay. I had fun.”

“Beth?” He hesitates. “Can we start over?”

I eye him—head to toe. No one’s offered me a do-over before.      I guess no one thought I was worth it. A strange tugging inside me lifts my lips      and causes a floating sensation for about three seconds. Well aware that      everything in life is short-lived, I feel the smile drop and the heaviness      return. Still, I accept the offer. “Sure.”

The sound of a guy shouting catches our attention. Farther      into the clearing is a circle of trucks with headlights on and a bonfire in the      middle. Kids from school are everywhere. What am I doing here?

“You ready?” he asks.

No, but I screwed everything up when I tried to run away. “I      guess.”

While I’m not a party virgin, a party in the woods with a      bonfire is a first for me. A group dances in front of a large rusty Jeep. Others      hang near the bonfire or on the tailgates of trucks. The whole setup has a Lord of the Flies quality. At least      the movie version of the book.

Ryan and I wade through the knee-deep grass and it crunches      beneath my wannabe Chuck Taylors. Some of the longer blades swat at me, slashing      at the bare skin exposed by the rips in my jeans. I hate the country.

The closer we get to the party, the slower I walk and Ryan      matches my pace. With each step, he bridges the distance between us and a couple      of times his fingers skim against mine. Butterflies flutter through my blood and      the stupid little girl part of me wants him to touch me.

The other part would slug him if he did.

“Parties make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

“When they make me feel like Daniel stepping into the lion’s      den.”

I try to suck in my smile when I hear the surprise in his      voice. “You know the story?”

Thanks to my short stint in VBS with Lacy, I can recite the      books of the Bible, New and Old Testament, and a few other random verses. “Even      the devil knows who God is.”

“You’re not the devil, Beth.”

“Are you sure?”

That sweet smile graces his lips. “No.”

I laugh. It’s a good laugh. The type that digs deep down      into my toes and tickles my insides. What feels even better is the sound of him      laughing right along with me.

“Come on. I promise they won’t eat you. Half the girls here      claim they’re vegetarians and I can take the guys.” He does the one thing I      hoped for and dreaded: his hand tangles with mine and he tugs gently for me to      follow.

I like the touch of his hand. It’s warm. Strong. And I let      the part of me that loved ribbons live for a few seconds and entwine my fingers      with his. If I learned one thing from Vacation Bible School, it was that      resurrection of the dead is possible.