Dare You To (Pushing the Limits #2)(93)

Not liking the tone or turn of this conversation, I fold my arms over my chest.

“What are you trying to say?”

Chris’s muscles ripple as he inches near me.

“You’ve changed since she’s come to Groveton and I’m not sure I like it. It was us and baseball—what you used to care about. Then she comes around and it’s me, you, Beth, writing, and sometimes baseball. You never once talked about going to college and now you want to walk from the pros. Who the hell are you?”

Who the hell am I? Who the hell is the guy in front of me? I step within swinging distance and, for the first time in my life, I’m willing to hit my best friend. “I’m the same damn guy who’s led this team year after year and I’m the same damn guy who encouraged you to date our best friend. I can’t help it you never looked close enough to see I could be more than a man with a ball and a bat.”

We stare at each other. Unblinking.

Unmoving. Until Chris flexes his fingers and gestures to a box of studded condoms. “That’s some freaky shit too.”

I pull on the bill of my hat. What the hell?

Part of me wants to punch him. Part of me wants to ask what just happened between us. I go the easy route and let Chris off the hook.

“Show me what you get.”

What if she is into freaky shit? What if she wants ribbed? When do you need lubricated? I don’t even want to think about the kind that says they’ll make her tingle.

“Does she have a latex allergy? That could suck if she does. I’ve heard stories of girls puffing up like blowfish and having to be rushed to the emergency room.”

My heart stops. “Really?”

“Naw, I’m messing with you, but I’d ask about the latex allergy before you put it on.”

Two teenage girls walk down the aisle. One sips on a slushy and twirls her hair. They glance at each other and giggle. Heat rises on the back of my neck.

“I’m not you, Ry,” Chris says after they round the corner. “I’m not going to college and I don’t have the pros knocking on my door.

Winning state this year, that’s my dream, and I need you in order to complete it. Promise me that you won’t let anything get in the way of that.”

Since I was seven years old I’ve glanced to my right and seen Chris backing me up between third and second. He saved plays I screwed up because of my pitch. My insides twist with the startling revelation—regardless of the path I choose, come graduation,

Chris isn’t going to be the guy on my right anymore. “You guys can take Eastwick without me and you know it. Northside is the team with the hitters. In the spring, we’re going to state.

The only game I’m missing is Saturday and I wouldn’t walk away if I didn’t believe that you guys have it covered.”

Chris studies me and I silently urge him to be okay with this. He’s my best friend and I need us to be okay. He offers me his hand and I exhale.

“Swear it, dawg.”

I clasp it. “Sworn.”

An easy grin spreads across his face. “Pick something out and let’s get out of here.”

I try one more time. “Tell me what you get.”

Chris places his hands on his hips. “I’ve never bought condoms before. Lacy wants to wait until we graduate.”

Beth

IT’S FRIDAY NIGHT and I inhale deeply before I knock. I have three days left until I leave. Ryan deserves better than me, but tonight I can pretend I’m good enough. The door opens and my heart starts, stops, and skips over itself when Ryan flashes that glorious smile with the right mixture of warmth and dimples.

“Hi,” he says. His voice alone creates pleasing goose bumps on my arms.

“Hey.” I’m going to make love to you tonight. Feeling shy, I glance away and I want to kick myself. Where’s the girl who could frighten football players with one look?

“You’re early.” Ryan closes the door and I move straight for his bedroom. Twice, Ryan tried to convince me to hang in another room, but being anywhere else in his perfect house reminds me that I can never measure up.

“Scott and Allison went to bed early.” I lean against the door frame to his room and try to calm the thousands of feathers swirling in my stomach. “Chris isn’t stopping by, is he?”

“No. He knows I’m seeing you tonight and that I have to be up early for my writing competition.” Ryan cups my waist with his hand. His thumb sneaks underneath my shirt and draws circles onto my skin.

I notice a bundle of papers tied together with two pink ribbons on the middle of his bed.

“What’s that?”

Ryan places some space between us, but slides his fingers into mine. “A finished copy of ‘George and Olivia.’ It’s yours. So are the ribbons.”

“Cool.” Because it is. Ryan will do well at so many things when he graduates.

“Take a look at the title page.” Ryan releases me and I immediately miss his touch.

I plop on the bed, untie the bow, and blink—

Dedicated to the girl I love: Beth Risk. My fingers skim the page as if caressing the words will make them more real. George was a short story for class. Olivia came to life because Ryan couldn’t stop thinking about the story. He dedicated it to me because… because he actually loves me.