Crossing the Line (Pushing the Limits #1.1)(15)

Lila was depending on me and I jacked it up for her. For my family. For me.

An overwhelming urge bubbles inside me to head home—to talk to my family, the counselor at school, to fill out Florida’s spring admissions paperwork, which the counselor gave me to motivate me to do well in summer school. Since Josh died all I’ve been doing is ignoring my life, my future—just like how Meg ignores her baby. Yeah, going home, it would be running, but not the kind I’ve been doing for two years. It would be running forward instead of away.

When I left home to find Lila, I felt the first spark of awareness that things needed to change, but seeing Lila doubt herself, seeing her backtrack, it clears up my vision of what I need to do to get my life in order.

My grandpa once told me never to provoke an injured bear, especially one nursing its wounds, but sometimes the bear needs to be poked. “Who’s the runner now?”

A flash of fear shivers up my spine at the way her ice-cold blue eyes strike through me. “Excuse me?”

Hope I know what I’m doing. “I came here for you, Lila. For the girl who would never let anyone walk all over her. For the girl who wouldn’t be feeling sorry for herself because someone pranked her. Maybe I’m not the only one who told a lie. Maybe you invented the girl in the letters.”

Her mouth drops open; her cheeks redden as if I had physically slapped her. “You are a jerk!”

“You mad now?”

“Yes!”

“Good. Now stop focusing on what you can’t control and start focusing on what you can.” Like summer school, working toward college, applying for spring admissions and not on my parents, my sister, my nephew...my brother’s death.

Lila shakes her head, as if she’s waking from a dream. She leans against the desk for support and runs her hands through her hair. “You’re right.”

This is the girl I know: one hundred percent in or out. No waffling. A girl who treats life like a missile with a locked-in course.

Her eyes roam over me and I’m confused by the slant of her lips.

“Lincoln?” she says as the silly smile grows.

“Yes?’

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

Embarrassment heats my body and my hand darts to my chest, feeling the exposed skin. “Sorry.”

Those blue eyes smolder. “I’m not. But you may want to get dressed for this.”

Lila

...and on the rock climbing—I think you’re underestimating yourself.

~ Lincoln

Lincoln walks beside me through the open field toward the tree line. He has a wide gait and I struggle to appear casual as I attempt to match his stride. His shirt’s back on, which is a sin. He could definitely give Echo’s guy a run for his money in the abs department.

At the wooden shed, the combination lock whines as I spin it to the right, the left and then back to the right. With a click, I unlatch the lock and open the door. Sunlight streams in and dust particles dance in the beams.

“Want to tell me what we’re doing out here?” Lincoln asks.

“Reclaiming my pride.” Stupid Stephen and stupid me. The past six months of our relationship flip through my mind like a bad award show montage: how I told him I was going to Florida, how he balked and then started talking about how scared I’d be once I moved. He played me. He played me so well that I almost abandoned my dreams.

If I’m being deep-down honest, though, Stephen’s prank was just the excuse I’d been searching for to drop Florida. And I could include my anxiety over Echo leaving and Lincoln not heading to Florida in the fall in the pathetic-excuse category. The truth is I’ve doubted going away to school because I’ve doubted me. I’m afraid of being alone.

I don’t know how to fix my fear, but I do know how to fix Stephen.

Once my eyes adjust to the darkness of the shed, I walk in and grab my brothers’ paintball guns. Lincoln was completely right. It’s time to stop being scared and start being proactive. It’s time someone turned the tables on the slimy little bastard.

I toss Lincoln one of the guns. He raises his eyebrows once he realizes what he holds in his hands.

“Shoot for their feet,” I say. “Their shoes cost two hundred and fifty dollars and they’d be pissed if they got stained.”

His wicked smile answers that he understands the plan and that he’s on board. “Have you ever used one of these?”

“Yep.” But it’s nothing I’ve ever broadcast to the world. “Have you?”

“It’s been a while.”

Good. “We’ve got six hours until sunset, and then it’s on.”

Lincoln’s eyes travel over my body, his gaze lingering on my curves. “I think I’m falling in love.”

At the word love, my insides flutter. I tuck my hair behind my ear, trying to imagine how sexy I could possibly be while wearing a pair of ratty cutoff jeans and a T-shirt and cradling a paintball gun. And then I wonder what it would be like if he really was falling for me, because Lincoln in real life is a million times more intense than Lincoln in letters...and I’m seriously falling for him.

Lincoln

Will you go outside on the 28th and watch the meteor shower? I know what you’re thinking: 3:00 a.m.? But I think it will be beautiful. Besides, it will be cool to know that you’re watching the sky at the same exact time as me.