Pushing the Limits (Pushing the Limits, #1)(105)

“Stop the serious shit,” Logan whispers. He knows my facial expressions better than anyone. He should. We’ve been playing together since we were kids. Me pitching. Him catching.

For Logan’s sake, I laugh at a joke Chris told even though I didn’t hear the punch line.

“We close soon.” Taco Bell Chick wipes a table near ours and gives Chris a wink.

“I may call that one,” says Chris.

I raise a brow. He worships his girlfriend. “No, you won’t.”

“I would if it weren’t for Lacy.” But he has Lacy, and loves her, so neither one of us continues that conversation.

“I have one more try.” I make a show of glancing around the purple tex-mex-decorated lobby. “What girl are you choosing for me?”

A honk from the drive-through announces the arrival of a car full of hot girls. Rap pounds from their car and I swear one girl flashes us. I love the city. “You should choose one of them.”

“Sure,” Chris says sarcastically. “In fact, why don’t I hand you the title now?”

Two guys from our group hop out of their seats and go outside, leaving me, Logan and Chris alone.

“There she is.” Chris’s eyes brighten as he stares at the entrance. “That’s the girl I’m calling as yours.”

I suck in a deep breath. Chris sounds too happy for this girl to be good news. “Where?”

“Just came in, waiting at the counter.”

Black hair. Torn clothes. Total Skater. Damn, those chicks are hard-core. I slap my hand against the table and our trays shift. Why? Why does Skater Girl have to wander into Taco Bell tonight?

Chris’s rough chuckles do nothing to help my growing agitation. “Admit defeat and you won’t have to suffer.”

“No way.” I stand, refusing to go down without a fight.

All girls are the same. It’s what I tell myself as I stroll to the counter. She might look different from the girls at home, but all girls want the same thing—a guy who shows interest. A guy’s problem is having the balls to do it. Good thing for me I’ve got balls. “Hi. I’m Ryan.”

Her long black hair hides her face, but her slim body with its hint of curves catches my attention. Unlike the girls at home, she isn’t wearing marked-down designer labels. Nope. She’s got her own style. Her black tank top shows more skin than it covers and her skintight jeans hug all the right places.

Skater Girl turns her head toward me and the drive-through. “Is someone going to take my f*cking order?”

Chris’s laughter from our corner table jerks me back to reality. I pull off my baseball cap, mess my hand through my hair and shove the hat back in place. Why her? Why tonight? There’s a dare and I’m going to win. “Counter’s a little slow tonight.”

She glares at me like I’m a little slow. “Are you speaking to me?”

Her hard stare dares me to glance away. Keep staring, Skater Girl. You don’t scare me. I’m drawn to her eyes though. Her eyes are blue. Dark blue. I wouldn’t have thought someone with black hair could have such brilliant eyes.

“I asked you a question.” She rests a hip against the counter. “Or are you as stupid as you look?”

Yep, pure punk: attitude, nose ring and a sneer that can kill on sight. She’s not my type, but she doesn’t have to be. I just need her number. “You’d probably get better service if you watched your language.”

A hint of amusement touches her lips and dances in her eyes. Not the kind of amusement you laugh with. It’s the taunting kind. “Does my language bother you?”

Yes. “No.” I don’t care for the word, but I know when I’m being tested.

“So my language doesn’t bother you, but you say—” she raises her voice and leans over the counter “—I could get some f*cking service if I watched my language.”

Time to switch tactics. “What do you want to eat?”

“Fish. What do you think I want? I’m at a taco joint.”

Chris laughs again and this time Logan joins in. If I don’t salvage this, I’ll be listening to their ridicule the entire way home. I lean over the counter and wave at the girl working the drive-through. I give her a smile. She smiles back. Take lessons, Skater Girl. This is how it’s supposed to work. “Can I have a minute?”

Drive-Through Chick’s face brightens and she holds up a finger as she continues taking an order. “Be right there. Promise.”

I turn back to Skater Girl and instead of the warm thank-you I should be receiving she shakes her head, clearly annoyed. “Jocks.”

My smile falters. Hers grows.

“How do you know I’m a jock?”

Her eyes wander to my chest and I fight a grimace. Written in black letters across my gray shirt is Bullitt County High School, Baseball State Champions.

“So you are stupid,” she says.

I’m done. I take one step in the direction of the table then stop. I don’t lose. “What’s your name?”

“What do I have to do to make you leave me alone?”

“Give me your phone number.”

The right side of her mouth quirks up. “You’re kidding.”

“Give me your name and phone number and I’ll walk away.”