Crossing the Line (Pushing the Limits #1.1)(13)

His grip on my shoulders changes into a massage that causes me to close my eyes. He could touch me like that for the rest of my life and I’d never move. “Then answer,” he says.

My stomach knots into a big ball of dread. Lincoln’s appearance screams that he just rolled out of bed and I’m in my pj’s and my parents are out of town and Grace is a huge gossip. “Crap!”

“I can hide,” he says as if reading my mind. His hands slide off my shoulders and I have to fight the urge to pout. “But you’d have to explain my car.”

I brighten for two point one seconds and then deflate. “I’m not that creative.”

“I’ll give you a few minutes alone with her. Maybe she won’t notice the car.” Lincoln starts down the hallway, then pauses to eye me in a way that suggests my clothes are riding up. “You look good right now. All rumpled and drowsy.”

The back of my neck explodes with heat, and I immediately focus on the muscles of his biceps. Lincoln flashes a flirtatious grin, grabs an extra pair of jeans from his backpack, which leans against the door to my room, and disappears into the bathroom. Good Lord, he’s hot.

Tangled thoughts of him and me muddle my groggy brain. He touches me and talks to me as if we’ve known each other forever. Is it possible he’s into me too? As more than friends?

Grace resumes her banging. I bat at the hair sticking on top of my head and open the front door. “Hey.”

In a cargo skirt that grazes her knees and a white lace tank, Grace hitches her thumb toward the car. “Have a guest?” She takes in my clothes. “An overnight one?”

Not interested in playing her games anymore, I say, “Yes.”

Shock and giddiness burst onto her face. “Really? Who?”

Once upon a time, I would have told her. She knew all of my secrets—including my writing relationship with Lincoln. That is, until she chose her new friends over Echo. Echo and I have always been a package deal. What sucks is that I miss Grace. “I’m guessing you want to come in.”

She does and practically pees her pants when she sees the pillow and blanket on the couch. “You had a guy overnight!” she squeals.

I shush her while waving my hands for her to keep it down. Embarrassment creeps along my skin. Lincoln must be laughing his ass off. “How do you know? It could be a girl.”

“Your girlfriends sleep in your room. So who is it?”

“It’s...” And I can’t think of anything believable, because the truth is unbelievable. “Lincoln. And you better keep it to yourself. This is private, Grace. I mean it.”

She grabs my hand, not missing a beat, acting as if our friendship didn’t disintegrate in a shower of flames months ago. “Lincoln? Pen pal Lincoln? Oh. My. God. That is so...so...is he hot?”

This is what I miss about Grace: her passion, her enthusiasm. And when she decided to, she could be a great friend. I clasp her hand back. “Smoking.”

And I have the urge to call Echo and Natalie and force the four of us to be what we used to be—inseparable.

“How long is he staying?” Grace asks.

My energy fades and I release her. “I don’t know.” Will Lincoln leave soon? Have I squandered the only time we may ever have together? Remembering last night’s late conversation, I remind myself that leaving would be Lincoln’s M.O.

Grace’s cell phone chimes to indicate a text. She reads it, then shoves the phone into her purse. “I’ve got to bolt, but I have something to tell you. Which is why I came.”

I circle my hand, motioning for her to continue.

“I overheard Stephen, Chad and Luke talking about how they’ve been showing up here at night, trying to scare you since your parents went on vacation.”

My mouth gapes and I go completely numb long enough to tense when the rush of anger pummels my bloodstream. “Excuse me?”

“I know. Stupid, right? Stephen thinks if you get scared, you’ll call him, and then you guys can work things out.” Grace glances at the blanket on the couch. “Guess he didn’t count on the dark horse pulling up late in the race.”

Disoriented, I lean against the arm of the couch for support. Holy crap, I’m not crazy. Someone was pranking me. But the relief is short-lived.

I lost my virginity to Stephen. He’s the first guy I ever said the words I love you to. And he’s betraying me? He’s trying to scare me? What has he become?

I feel my eyes dart, even though I’m honestly looking at nothing within the room. My mind rapidly tries to sort through the anger, the confusion and the weird emptiness. I’m mad at Stephen—all right, that’s the understatement of the century. The next time I see him, I’ll fry him like the catfish my brothers catch at the lake, but what I’m lacking is the epic sense of betrayal, the massive pang of hurt, the emotions I experienced last night because Lincoln lied to me. I mean, Stephen and I were together for two years. That should count for something, right?

“Lila?” Grace refocuses my attention on her. “Are you okay?”

“The bastard is going to hang from his toenails, but, yeah, I’m fine.” Astonishingly so.

She fidgets with her class ring. “Don’t let him find out I’m the one who told you, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” Grace and Chad are an item. She’s worked hard over the past year to claim him as her guy. “Why did you tell me, anyway?”