Pushing the Limits (23 page)

I would never figure this girl out. Antonio was one initiation rite away from a gang. Echo didn’t look at me the entire first term, yet she throws herself at this asshole.

He finally lowered her to the ground. Echo bounced in excitement. “So, how is it?”

Antonio rubbed his jaw and his smiled waned. “Unbelievable. The teachers, the students, the classrooms, it’s …” He glanced away from her. “It’s shitty you’re not there.”

Echo’s excitement faded and she forced the smile in place. “At least one of us got to go to Hoffman. They could have deleted the spot when my father turned it down.”

My brain clicked so loudly, I was surprised no one else heard it. Antonio attended Hoffman, the only creative and performing arts school in the county, which admitted only juniors and seniors. Spots were granted based on talent and the competition to get in was furious. Jealousy still rolled through my body. I needed to confirm my theory before I ruined a friendship. “You went to Eastwick?”

“Echo and I had every art class together our freshman and sophomore year. Hoffman offered me her spot when she was no longer able to take it.” Antonio held his hand out to me. “Beth’s pestering Maria. Think you could tell your sister to give her a break?”

I clasped his hand, happy Antonio had brought a girl of his own. “Beth doesn’t like anybody, and me telling her to give your girl a break is only going to make things worse.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did you convince a classy girl like Echo to hang out with a bastard like you?” Antonio applied pressure to my hand before releasing it. He may not be interested in her, but he cared about her enough to not like the idea of me being with her. Which spoke volumes about his friendship with Echo. Until now, Antonio never cared what or how many girls I brought home to sleep with.

Not sure how I felt about Antonio and Echo, I linked my fingers with hers. Antonio cocked a surprised eyebrow.
Damn straight, bro. I did just mark my territory
. Rico punched his
cousin in the shoulder. “Noah’s gone all serious. Even went to a dance.”

Antonio relaxed his position. “No shit. Gonna do prom next? I’d pay money to see you dressed up like a monkey.”

“Very funny.” I pushed past Rico and his hyena cousins and led Echo inside.

The already small living room seemed to have shrunk a few sizes thanks to several teenagers strewn across the furniture and floor. Beth sat on the kitchen table, beer in one hand and cigarette dangling from the other. Isaiah stood beside her, making ridiculous faces, enjoying every time Beth howled in laughter. Looked like the two of them had made a head start on the dime bag we bought this morning.

The sound of a car screeching came from the television. Several people called out a greeting and told me to move out of the way so they could see the TV.

“‘Sup, man.” Isaiah pulled me into a half hug and smiled like an idiot. “Echo.”

Echo pressed closer to me and I took advantage of the situation by wrapping my hand around the curve of her waist. My mouth watered from her sweet scent. Man, she smelled good.

“Hi, Isaiah. How are you doing, Beth?” Echo asked.

Beth took a long draw off her cigarette, glaring at Echo. Standing her ground, Echo stared back, pretending Beth’s fury didn’t matter to her. Pride flooded my body. Beth broke first, blowing smoke to the side. “I went to the store today, Noah, and bought glue. The crazy kind.”

Echo’s entire body flinched and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Isaiah hissed something into Beth’s ear as she took a long drink from her beer. Her bloodshot eyes sparked with happy condemnation.

“Come on, let me show you the house.” Like a house tour could help salvage this situation. I applied pressure with my hand on Echo’s back, pushing her toward the hallway.

“Enjoy the grand tour, Princess!” yelled Beth.

When Echo stepped away, I hissed to Beth, “Knock it off.”

She shrugged and took another sip of beer.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have far to go. Four steps later we stood in the middle of the hallway, next to the pink-and-green-tiled bathroom. Echo stared at the cracked white paint on the ceiling, probably wondering how to escape.

“The room behind us is Beth’s and the other one is Shirley and Dale’s,” I said.

Echo tugged at the gloves on her arms. She had to know that this one time, Beth meant to tear me down. “Echo, what Beth said … that was a shot at me, not you. She thinks she’s going to have to put me back together after you rip my heart out and shatter me.”

Laughter erupted from the living room and Rico cursed. Twice in one night I’d declared my emotions to her and she had yet to say a thing back. The silence between us dragged. She finally asked, “Are you any good at Xbox?”

It couldn’t be that easy. Anytime Beth tore down a girl I brought here, I spent more time convincing them to let it go than I did trying to get into their pants. I wanted to play, but I also wanted Echo to enjoy herself. “Yeah.”

“Then why don’t you prove it?” She yanked on my hand and led me to the living room. Was this some sort of test? Should I be protesting, telling her we should leave because Beth made her uncomfortable? That’s what the other girls had wanted.

But she seemed persistent as we entered the living room and motioned for me to join in the game. I’d find out soon enough if
this was a test. I snagged the open spot on the couch and pulled Echo down on my lap. “Hey, Rico, hand me a controller.”

“Yeah, Rico, give it to someone who can actually play,” said Isaiah. More laughter and insults followed.

“You’d play better without me on your lap,” she whispered.

I added myself to the game and prepared to kick some ass. As everyone else selected their player, my lips grazed Echo’s earlobe. I loved how she closed her eyes and leaned into me. “But then I couldn’t do this.”

After a half hour, Antonio lured her away by throwing around words like
technique
and
shading
. I planned on joining her in the kitchen when the game ended, but decided against it when she grabbed a pencil and spoke rapidly as she sketched. I’d wanted her to be comfortable and I’d wanted to hang with my friends. Somehow, I got both my wishes.

An hour and a half later, Antonio sat in the kitchen chair opposite from Echo, making out with his girl. He occasionally mumbled something to Echo while she sketched and nursed a beer.

Beth emerged from the basement, bag of pot and rolling papers in hand. I tossed the controller onto the couch. “I’m out.”

Several of the guys groaned when Rico snagged my controller. Isaiah threw an empty beer can at me. “Come on, man, Rico sucks. I can’t believe you’re leaving me hanging.”

I ignored the comments they made regarding my manhood in their attempt to draw me back into the game. Echo’s hand flew rapidly over the paper, her eyes darting after it. I ran my fingers through her curls, gently pulling them straight, just for them to bounce back.

She was a genius. She drew Antonio and Maria, locked in an embrace. The picture on the paper looked like it could come to
life. How could she accomplish something like that in such a short period of time?

Beth sat at the table and began to roll a joint. I wanted Echo out of here, immediately. “I haven’t shown you where Isaiah and I live yet.”

“Hold on a sec. I want to get this shading right.” Echo was lost in her world and oblivious to me. Hell, Beth had never rolled a J that fast before. She placed it in her mouth and lit it. The familiar smell drifted into the room, catching everyone’s attention, including Echo’s.

Echo watched as Beth inhaled and held her breath. Since living here, I’d never refused a hit, but there was no way I was going to do this in front of Echo. Beth released the smoke. Her lips twisted up as she held the joint out to Echo. “Want some?”

Everyone in the room watched and waited patiently for their turn, thus putting Echo on the spot. Her foot tapped against the floor and she laid the sketch pad on the table, shoving it toward Antonio. “No, thanks.” Her eyes shot sharply to me. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Nice, exactly what I hoped to avoid. I held my hand out to her. “Come on.”

Echo

I claimed Noah’s hand, giving Beth a wink as I let him lead me away. Being nice to Beth had gotten me nowhere and for once, it felt good to be nasty. The scowl on her face was worth whatever cosmic payback I’d get later.

Noah opened the basement door and motioned for me to head down first. The temperature dropped at least twenty degrees the moment my feet hit the concrete floor. A box spring and mattress lay against the corner of the wall. An old plaid couch faced the bed and a television sat on the wall between them. Jeans and T-shirts were folded in two laundry baskets.

The door shut behind us and the wooden steps groaned with Noah’s heavy footfalls. I shoved my hands in my pockets and surveyed the ceiling. My neck twinged with the image of the hundreds of tiny spiders waiting to assault me.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s … ah … cozy.” I’m sure the spiders loved it. Along with those strange bugs that curled into a ball when you touched them.

Noah swept my hair behind my shoulder and placed a delicious kiss on the nape of my neck. “Liar,” he whispered in my ear.

Ugh—moral choice: couch or bed, couch or bed? The decision was taken out of my hands as Noah hooked a finger on my back belt loop and tugged me, backward, toward the bed. His arms snaked around my waist and pulled me down alongside him.

Noah propped himself up on his elbow, his wicked grin in place. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to see you on this bed?”

“Nope.” The hem of my sweater rode up from our fall, exposing my belly button. Noah traced circles onto the skin of my stomach, down to the material of my low-rise jeans. His touch sent a combination of tickles and chills through my body. My heart sped up and I struggled to keep my breathing normal.

Every Noah rumor had been right. His kisses curled my toes and now his simple touch rocked my body. Fear mingled with the pleasure in my bloodstream. “Noah?”

“Yes?” His dark eyes followed his fingers as they teased my belly button.

“When did you start smoking pot?”

He laid his palm flat against my tummy. “You’re going to make me work for this.”

I nodded, afraid I’d squeak instead of answering. Things were moving fast, way too fast for a slow girl like me.

Noah kicked off his shoes and inched up the bed to the pillows. “Come on.” My hand shook when I unzipped my black boots and lined them neatly on the floor next to his tossed-upside-down shoes. Why was I so nervous? This was Noah— study with, talk to, laugh and plot with Noah.

As I crawled up the bed to sit beside him, my pterodactyl butterflies somersaulted in my stomach. Good God, he was gorgeous and I was in bed with him. I leaned my back against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest. He lay. I sat. No, this wasn’t awkward.

Noah’s smile faltered. “Don’t do that, Echo.”

I raked a shivering hand through my hair and fought to control my voice. “Do what?”

He clutched my hand and gently rubbed his fingers over it. “Be scared of me.”

Noah sat up a little and I sank low enough to rest my head on his shoulder. I could compromise. “I’m not scared of you.”
What you do to my body, maybe, but not you
.

“What are you afraid of?”

“You answer my question first.”

He stretched his arm around my shoulder and settled his head against mine, enveloping me in a warm little bubble. “I was a lot like Luke my freshman year—the basketball star, the guy who dated all the right girls and had all the right friends … I tried to remain that person my sophomore year, but no matter how hard I tried, I kept failing. I couldn’t stay on a sports team because I couldn’t afford the equipment or my foster parents would make it impossible for me to make practices or games. Finally, I got tired of working so hard to fail, so I quit. One day a guy asked me if I wanted a hit, so …” He trailed off.

So, Noah smoked pot. I drank beer. We made a beautiful couple. “I’ll never smoke pot or do drugs. I don’t want to do anything that messes with the mind. It’s a delicate thing.”

Because I was terrified to do anything that would flip the switch that would make me like my mother. Studies suggested there was anywhere between a four and twenty-four percent
chance I’d inherit her manic little genes. “If you’re going to try to get custody of your brothers, aren’t you scared they’re going to do a drug test at some point? I mean, if I was the judge, I would.”

He had been feathering kisses into my hair, causing goose bumps on the back of my neck, when he abruptly stopped. “I guess you’re right.”

I pulled away and stared into his eyes. “I don’t care that you smoke pot. I mean, I’m not going to join you and I’d prefer to hang out with you when you’re sober, but I’m not looking to change you.”

Noah shifted so that his hair fell into his eyes and kept his face expressionless, not even a smile. He scratched at the stubble on his face. “Why didn’t you go to Hoffman?”

“Because my father thinks art is as evil as the devil himself.” And that if I continued to indulge my talents, I’d turn exactly into my mother.

“That makes no sense.”

No, it didn’t, but what could I do? “My mom was an artist. He associates her talent with her behavior.”

Noah tugged on a curl. “You’re not crazy.”

I tried to force a reassuring smile onto my face, but came up short. “My mom came off her meds because they inhibited her creativity. For every painting my mom accomplished, I could tell you the time frame of her manic episode. Like when I turned nine and instead of taking the time to sing happy birthday, she painted the Parthenon on our living room wall. You can’t blame my dad for wanting to protect me from becoming someone who could do this.” I held out my sleeved arms as proof.

Noah reached for my arms, but I snapped them away. He pressed his lips together and then unexpectedly yanked off his
shirt, revealing all of his six-pack glory. He thrust his bicep in my face.

I sucked in air. “Oh, God, Noah.” A circle of red skin protruded from his arm, the same exact size as—my stomach dropped— a cigar. I reached out to touch it then withdrew my hand.