Breaking the Rules (Pushing the Limits 1.50)

My eyes flash to Mrs. Collins, and my insides wither and die.

“Tell me,” she coaxes.

My stomach acids churn. “Redemption.”

Mrs. Collins blinks. “Redemption?”

“Redemption.” And this session is done. “I’ve gotta go.”

“This conversation isn’t over.”

Yeah, it is. I end the call and slouch back in the seat and run my hand over my hair. Echo asked me for simple and damn if my life doesn’t keep getting complicated.

Closing the computer and swiping it up, I shove away from the desk and poke my head into the hallway. Looking sexy as hell with her damp hair and wearing a pair of drawstring pants plus a shirt that fits snugly across her breasts, Echo leans against the wall across from me.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah,” she parrots. “Do you want to talk about it?”

No. “Do you want to tell me why Mrs. Collins is stalking you from yesterday?”

“Not particularly.” Echo holds up the Styrofoam container. “Dinner?”

“Let’s go.”

Echo

Because the streetlamps illuminate the hotel parking lot like noon at the equator, the stars aren’t visible, and I’m perfectly fine with avoiding the constellations tonight. Noah and I sit on the hood of my Honda Civic and share the sweet-and-sour chicken. Noah would have grabbed food at work, but I picked Chinese because that’s one of his favorites to eat...mine, too. It’s the simple things that we have in common that create warm fuzzies.

The container rests on our joint knees, and I like the closeness of the meal. We’ve been quiet, but this type of familiar quiet is a gift. We’re synchronized, and I love it.

Noah likes to combine the pineapple with his chicken so I push the last pineapple chunk in his direction. I pop another bite of chicken into my mouth then twist the fork to him.

“You better watch it.” Noah hands me the rest of the egg roll while taking the fork. Like I predicted, he goes for his preferred combo. “You’ll get my cooties.”

I choke on the egg roll, and Noah pats my back as I cough down my dinner. He cracks open the water and offers it to me. The cool liquid helps, and I hand it back to him when I can properly breathe. “Did you say cooties?”

Noah chuckles. “Yeah.”

“Cooties seems like too tame of a word for you.”

He winks and scoops another forkful. “I like to keep you guessing.”

“Well, it’s too late. I already have your cooties.”

Noah finishes chewing and peers at me. “There’s a party tomorrow night. We should go.”

I study the egg roll like it can read my fortune. Let’s see: drunk guys, me with scars on my arms and a high Beth. Sounds like a freaking fantastic time. Why didn’t I think of it earlier? “I don’t know. Where’s it going to be?”

“Around. Someone from work is throwing it. We should go. It’s been a while sin

ce we’ve let loose.”

“Let loose?” I repeat. “Did you block out how drunk you were the night of the beaver with headphones?”

“I got drunk to block out the beaver with headphones. Not to have a good time.”