Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(54)

Beth

RYAN SWITCHES GEARS when the pavement ends and the Jeep’s wheels hit gravel. The wind whips my hair into my face and neck, stinging me like the tiny tentacles of a jellyfish.

He turns on the headlights when the sun sets lower in the west, causing the woods surrounding us to fall into shadows.

Besides the forced happy hellos we exchanged under my aunt’s watchful eye, Ryan and I have said nothing to each other since he picked me up. The things he uttered to me two weeks ago still hurt—I was nothing more than a dare.

The offers of friendship, the smiles, the nice words—all games. Deep down I always knew it, but part of me hoped for more. I allowed hope. Stupid Beth making another stupid mistake. Story of my life.

“You know, it’s rude to text while you’re out with someone else.” Ryan rests one hand on top of the steering wheel and leans cockily toward the door. “Especially when I saved you.”

I ignore Ryan and stare at my cell. Owing him, I agreed to spend one hour with him at the party. I never agreed to conversation.

The constant dipping and bobbing in his Jeep makes reading Isaiah’s texts nearly impossible. It’s the first time I’ve had the courage to open them. Every message says the same thing: I’m sorry.

So am I. I’m sorry I trusted him. I’m sorry he betrayed me. I’m sorry I thought I could read his texts without my heart throbbing as if a swarm of bees attacked it. I want the heaviness to go away. I want the hurt to go away. How can I forgive him for telling Ryan my secret? How can I forgive him for forcing me to leave my mom?

And even worse, how can I talk to him now that I know he loves me and I know, beyond words, that I don’t feel the same way? My throat tightens. Isaiah’s my safe. He always has been. He’s that place where I fall when the  world tumbles into chaos. There were times I thought maybe we could be more, but then…I’d freeze up entirely. Isaiah and I were meant to be friends and now I’m losing my only friend.

The phone vibrates in my hands. It’s as if he senses I’m finally on the other side. Call me.

Text me. Please.

I toss the cell onto the floorboard of Ryan’s Jeep. Texting Isaiah back will only increase the pain—for both of us.

Ryan concentrates on the road, looking deep in thought. I wish I had his life. No pain. No problems. Only lightness and freedom.

“You okay?” Ryan catches me staring. I remind myself that the sincerity melting in his brown eyes isn’t real. Jocks are good at pretending. His hair sticks out behind the baseball cap he wears backward. He shifts gears again and the muscles in his arms ripple with the motion. It’s kind of sexy. Not kind of—Ryan is sexy.

“Why are we on a dirt road? Did we officially reach the end of civilization?”

“It’s a gravel road,” says Ryan. “This is the way to my house.”

His house. Please. That bastard Luke from my old school “showed” me his house too. “I’m not f**king you.”

“And you talk so pretty. You must have had all the guys dangling from your fingertips in Louisville.” He flexes his fingers and regrips the steering wheel before speaking matter-of-factly. “This is the fastest way to the party.”

Ryan hates me and I don’t blame him. I hate me. What I hate more in this moment is that part of me likes Ryan. He stood up for me like the prince does for the princess in the fairy tales Scott used to read to me as a child. I’m not a princess, but Ryan is a knight. He just belongs to someone else.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” I hate how sharp the words come out. Fabulous. I yelled at him. Now I can feel like crap for that too.

Ryan breezes past what I assume is his house, a large one-story with a massive garage next to it, and switches gears again when we hit the grass. The Jeep jolts forward, tossing me in the seat like I’m on a roller coaster. I grab hold of the passenger grip on the ceiling and Ryan laughs. A crazy smile brightens his face and once again, I find myself drawn in.

No longer leaning away from me, Ryan sits straight, one hand on the steering wheel, another shifting gears as we hurtle down a hill to a creek. The Jeep accelerates as if it were a snowball on the verge of an avalanche. I can see the possibilities. The crashing. The water.

The jostling. The dirt. My heart pumps faster in my chest and for the first time in weeks I feel alive.

The engine roars and he presses harder on the gas. The Jeep hits the rocks. Ryan and I both whoop and yell as water sprays the truck and smashes onto the windshield, making us blind. He pushes the Jeep forward, faster, past the creek, over the rocks. Daring to continue even when I have no idea what’s on the other side.

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.”