Chasing Impossible (Pushing the Limits #5)(52)

I stand, stride down four more seats and then plop into the seat next to her. Abby’s head snaps up like she’s about to explain Revelations to me using her fists and instead her mouth pops open without sound escaping.

“So you weren’t shitting on the smart,” I say.

Abby recovers quickly and powers off her phone. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You see the guy down there?” She wiggles her fingers toward the herd. “Older guy? Looks like he should be filed away in one of those old-school card catalogs in a library? The one everyone is falling all over?”

The lone adult loving being in charge. “Yeah.”

“I’m blackmailing him.”

Abby’s hazel eyes give nothing away and this is one of the million reasons why I love being around her. A puzzle that’s always switching shape. I’m trying to gauge the lie or the truth because she’s capable of anything at any time. “With what?”

She glances around as if she cares people are listening and when she leans into me, I can’t help but narrow my gaze on her lips. “He watches cat porn.”

The chuckle rumbles up and out from my chest. “Cat porn?”

Abby straightens back in her seat and winks. “Look it up. It’s totally a thing.”

“This mean you’re talking to me again?”

“No. I’m currently not talking to you. This is all in your imagination. I’m not talking to you, you’re not talking to me, in fact, I’m not even here. You should get your head checked, Logan. Hallucinations are so nineteen sixties.”

“What if I’m not here, either?” I join the game. “What if neither of us are here? I’m home. You’re home. This is all some messed-up dream.”

Abby smiles—a soft tip of the ends of that gorgeous mouth.

We don’t need to have the conversation. She’s not changing her mind. I’m not changing mine, but Abby’s here, I’m here and we’ve got a few minutes where Abby’s going to do what she loves to do best—pretend.

I bump my knee into hers, and I recall the night in her room and the feel of her legs tangled with mine. “I miss you.”

Abby releases a breath while flipping her cell in her hand. “Yeah...well...” She places her arm on our shared armrest. Her smooth skin touches mine and I become hyperaware.

She scowls and slumps in her seat like she’s lost and continues to flip her cell. Her fingers are there, next to mine and my heart picks up speed at the thought of taking them. Shouldn’t be hard. Shouldn’t be difficult. I’ve kissed Abby. In ways that if circumstances had been different clothes would have been shed.

Holding hands—that means something. That says something. And putting myself out there with the chance of her withdrawing shakes my world more than I’d care to admit. But time with Abby is a premium and I hate being a wuss.

The old guy claps his hands as if we’re young enough to be lead into circle time and everyone settles into seats. He goes on to explain what an honor it is to be chosen for today. How the people in this room are the best of the best. Scored higher and out performed. That the people in this room are the solutions to problems in our future.

Abby and I glance over at each other as the entire room applauds. Neither one of us do because we share the same thoughts. A drug dealer and a kid always bent for an adrenaline high. God help us all if the world rests on our backs.

The guy continues to drone on and on about the exciting things we’ll tackle today. Science labs, advanced math, problem solving, and new technologies. All lead by people from visiting universities. For a few lucky souls, there will be interviews for scholarships and admissions.

Abby’s cell buzzes. With her arm remaining on the rest, she checks the text and doesn’t seem to care that I watch as she sets up a drug deal. If there’s anyone in this room that could be a tycoon for business later in life, it’d be Abby. She’d eat up anyone who stood in the path of whatever she wanted.

She turns off her cell and returns her attention to the guy up front. The room goes dark and he cues up a PowerPoint presentation. Her arm is still there. So’s mine. The heat building between us is starting a fire in my blood.

Abby sighs. “I should go.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I don’t belong here.”

I shift in my seat. “Did you get a letter inviting you to this thing?”

She nods.

“Any interviews?”

She shakes her head no. “My letter explained the university reps were bothered by my lack of extracurricular activities and job experience. Evidently no one believes a person of my age has several years’ experience in conflict management and aggressive pharmaceutical sales.”

I snort and Abby smirks.

“Take one of mine,” I suggest.

Abby glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “What?”

“I got three interviews. Take one of mine.”

“I think they’ll catch on that I’m not you. If the lack of a penis doesn’t tip them off, my breasts might or my lack of knowledge of which direction I should run if I magically hit a ball with a stick. That might come up in conversation.”

“Bat, not a stick, and you run to the right. You want to go in pretending to be me, do it. But I think it would be better if you went in and sold yourself.”