Pushing Limits (Fighting Love: Book 1)

by cross, kali

  “What’s his name? Maybe I know him. “

  “Tommy. He works for the school chancellor. He drove me in from the airport.”

  “Tommy Bolt?” she asks, surprised. “Here, time for another shot,” she says, pushing the filled shot glass back at me.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t catch his last name. He gave me his number, let me look.” I cross the floor failing to walk a completely straight line, pick up my jeans, and pull out a massive mix of tiny slips of paper. Flipping through them, I fish out the slip he wrote his name on, and attempt to focus my eyes. “Yeah, Tommy Bolt.”

  “Girl! He is smokin’. And sweet!” She shrugs and smiles as I gape at her. “Hey, I appreciate a good looking man. Cute is cute. And, he’s just this side of a gorgeous.” I sit back down at the table. She smiles proudly. What’s with that look? She studies me for a moment, appearing to attempt to focus her tequila goggles. Her eyes graze up and down. “Yeah, I can see it. You’re a hot little number yourself.”

  “What? No, I’m not.” I sneer at her. “You’re drunk.”

  “Stand up.” She pulls my arm upward, forcing me to stand before her. “Ok, turn around,” circling her finger around. “Yeah, your butt is to die for, nice bubble. Perky tits, but it means you aren’t tied to a bra.” She grabs her massive melons with both hands. “Not like these puppies. I love going without a bra, but it usually causes riots with the men folk.” She smiles glibly, blinking her eyes rapidly. Looking down my backside, she notes, “Great legs even for a small fry.” Pulling me down abruptly back into my seat, she grasps my chin to get a closer look at my face. “Hmm, love the hair. Not many girls can handle pale pink hair. Hmm, blue eyes.” Concentrating she says, “Huh, you have white crystals in your irises? Pretty. Nice full Angelina Jolie lips, nice nose, you got the whole package.” Settling back in her chair, as if it is decreed, she stares at me.

  “Right.” I say, “I’m too short, and I have no tits.”

  “Now, why in God’s green earth do you think you don’t measure up?” Raising her palm to me, she says, “Never mind. We’ll work on the old self-esteem crap later. If we get into it now, it might kill my buzz.” Giggling, she licks her hand, salts up, glancing at me. Shaking her head with a grin, she slams her shot, waving her hands to the beat. “Turn that song up!”

  Reaching for the phone, I turn the music up again. Maroon 5 and Christina Aguilera blast for us to move like Jagger. Laughing, Sally gets up and does her best Mick Jagger imitation, flapping her arms like a chicken, pursing her lips, sticking her butt out, pointing to the imaginary audience. What a goof! Pulling me up, we dance like geeks, freestyling to the music and being total dweebs.

  Sally staggers to the kitchenette laughing as she grabs more limes. Sloshing tequila as she pours more shots. “Wait…did you say you have his number?”

  Dancing I say, “Whose number?” The phone shuffles to Ke$ha. I hate that I love her music. Its techno dance music, and I love it. The furthest thing from rock, you can get. It’s so not me…but she’s my guilty pleasure.

  “Tommy’s….You should sext him.” She dances around the room. “No naked pics or anything…just spicy words, that’s it.” Her golden brown eyes blaze as a mischievous smile curves up on the side of her mouth.

  Damn she’s sexy.

  Grabbing her hands, I smile at her wondering what she would be like in bed. Shaking my head, I say, “Nah, I would sound like a dork.” I dance along imitating her steps. “I just met him. He was probably just being nice. A guy like that has girls fawning all over him twenty-four/seven, I’m sure.”

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.” She strokes my arm, her mouth stretched into a wicked grin. “Nothing too risqué, just something to keep him thinking about you.”

  “What are we fifteen?” Raising my hand to signal I am stopping this train as I rock out. “He’ll think I’m a dork.”

  “How will you know if you have a shot if you don’t try?”

  “He was uber sexy. I don’t know.”

  “Where’s your phone?”

  “No, Sally. Look I’ll text him tomorrow and see if he’s serious about hanging out. He probably won’t even remember me.”

  “Ok, ok, ok.” Her phone rings announcing a text. “Ugh! My old roommate won’t get a clue.” Lifting her phone, she reads the display. “She sent me a text, ‘Where are you? When are you coming home?’ I told her I was moving out. The administration told her I was moving. The resident director, Maria, told her I was leaving.” She yells at her phone, as she types, in a huff. “My God, give it a rest and get a clue!” Her phone beeps again. “Now, she’s asking me ‘why do I treat her this way?’ My God, shoot me now.” She types something in and dances with her hands in the air, laughing, “That should make it stop.”

  Pouring another shot, I dance over to her with the salt. Taking her hand, I lick it as I look up at her. Shaking the salt on her hand, I hand her the shot. I turn back, dancing to P!nk singing about being perfect. “Don’t let it get you pissed. Come on, let’s dance.” We sway, bopping our heads to the music, singing at the top of our lungs to the chorus.

  Staggering back to our chairs, we explode into giggles. Pouring another set of shots, Sally rolls her eyes as another text comes in. “This one says, ‘Why do you hate me?’ Geez, Louise! Could she be more pathetic?”

  Smirking, I say, “Tell her to fuck off.”

  Sally types into her phone saying, “Perfect.” Licking her lips, she says, “Hey, give me your hand.”

  Extending my hand, she licks the side of my palm with the tip of her tongue, sprinkling salt over the moisture with a devilish grin. “Turnabout is fair play, don’t ya think?” Wow. Her brown eyes smolder as she slowly licks the salt from my palm. “To new roommates,” she says as she raises her glass in a toast.

  I slur, clinking my glass with hers, “To new roommates.” Giggling, I head bang to “Dude looks like a Lady.”

  Sally laughs, getting up to turn her phone up full blast, and dancing her way across the floor.

  A pounding comes from the metal door, startling us.

  We freeze, looking at each other. Sally lunges for the tequila slamming it into the cabinet. I grab the phone and turn it down to a reasonable level. Grabbing the paraphernalia from our shots, we shove it into the fridge. Walking over to the door, I will myself to consciously walk a straight line, as if that will somehow make me sober. I open the door.

  The ice princess grimaces at me, her cold fury spiking from her eyes like some sci-fi fucking avatar yielding a death stare. She says, “Do you fucking mind?! Some of us have to get up in the morning.”

  “Sorry, we turned it down,” I mumble, swaying faintly.

  Sally walks over, lacing her arm around my shoulder, her face impassive with half-mast eyes. Lily stares at her, pure white-hot unadulterated fury molts her face.

  “You’re living here?” She screeches her face furious.

  “Yeah. Meet my new roommate, Amber Turner. Now, fuck off, Lily….and stop texting me.” With a dramatic swing of her arm, the door slams in Lily’s face.

  Chapter 4

  The sun is fucking unmerciful. It streams in while I’m trying to sleep, stabbing its light through my eyeballs….making my head scream. I fucking hate you. I shield my eyes as I realize with dread that the drapes are open, and the room is filled with sunlight. White light. The bathroom door is closed, and the shower is running. Sally must be up.

  My lead feet somehow magically carry me over to a pot of coffee, and I pour a cup. Blowing on the full mug, I sip, my body surges and I whisper, “Fucking nectar of the Gods,” thankful for its strong flavor and quick bite.

  The shower shuts off, and the door opens. A tall redhead with piercing green eyes walks out of a cloud of steam. Her long legs descend for fucking days from under the fluffy white towel, wrapped precariously around her huge breasts. Wow, she’s like…six foot. I try by sheer force of will to close my gaping mouth, but she’s fucking stunning.

  Smiling at m
e, she says nonchalantly, “Hey.” Grabbing some clothes from various places around the room, she carries them back into the bathroom.

  “Hey,” I say after the door closes. Closing my mouth manually with my fingers, I sit at the table and sip my coffee.

  Sally walks out of the bathroom, draped in a white cushy robe that barely covers her ass and smiles brightly. “Good Morning!” Giggling and clutching her hand to her head, she repeats, “Good Morning.” This time in a soft whisper.

  “Who’s the redhead?” I whisper.

  “Tracy…booty call. You were passed out so I didn’t think you’d mind.” She smiles sheepishly. Bending down into her suitcase, she pushes clothes back and forth in an attempt to find an outfit in her case.

  My phone beeps loudly…piercing my brain. Damn it, Aunt Patty, it’s the crack of dawn and you just left! What do you need now?

  Crossing the floor to grab my phone, I focus on the display.

  Wow, it’s been a while since I blushed….you sure can, darlin’.

  Can I come over now?

  I stare at my phone through a foggy brain. Whose number is this? There’s no name on the display so it’s not in my contacts. My eyes shift down to look at the text sent from my phone:

  If I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?

  Oh dear God. Fuck! Running to the mass of papers I left on the table, I toss tiny pieces of paper aside until I find the one with Tommy’s number scratched on it. My head bounces back and forth like a fucking bobble head between the slip of paper and my phone. What did I do? Hoping against hope that the number typed in is off, even by a digit. Sinking into the chair, my hand falls down to the table as my hope dissolves.

  Looking up from her suitcase, she says, “Did he text you back?”

  “Yeah,” I lift the phone to show her the display.

  “Worked like a charm.” She smiles and flits over to the bathroom. Turning at the door, she says coyly, “You can thank me later.” She goes in, closing the door behind her.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! The phone beeps in my hand.

  Headin’ your way in 20.

  I panic. Something in my head tells me to calm down, but I morph into a fifteen-year-old girl anyway, and I have a full-on hissy fit. Running to the bathroom door, I pound. “Get out here, Sally Westin, and fix this! Come out NOW.” I pound relentlessly as the door swings open.

  “Keep your shirt on!” She giggles. “On second thought, maybe you should take it off and come in here,” she says, reaching for the hem of my blue tank top.

  Slapping her hand away, I yell, “Focus.” Turning my hand, I point the display to her face so she can read it.

  “Oh, good. That’s great.” Her eyes light up. “You better get dressed. That’s not much time.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” My eyes pop out of my head. “Make it stop, Sally Westin. I’m not going anywhere.” My jaw clenches, and I emphasize each word. “Just. Make. Him. Stop.” Shoving the phone at her, I run my hands through my hair. I can’t get enough air as I pant wildly. My God, am I having a panic attack? My hands shake.

  “Ok, ok…I’ll help you. Give me the phone.” She walks out of the bathroom with a hint of a smile and types furiously, handing back the phone.

  Give me an hour. Breakfast at McCain’s? I’ll meet you there.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? You were supposed to blow him off.”

  “I said I’d help you. Fact is…you need this. I could see it the minute I got some liquor in you. Honey, you need to get laid, and it sounded like you think he’s the guy for the job,” she says matter-of-factly. “Shoot I thought you were going to jump my bones last night.” Closing in to grasp my chin, her eyes earnest, “not that I wouldn’t have loved that,” she reassures me. “But, you passed out after Lily showed, and I knew you were into him. Shit, you mumbled and moaned his name in your sleep all night. So, I texted him about four a.m.”

  “You did this. You fix it. Shit, I hate dates. Too fucking formal. I get to know someone hanging out, things happen naturally,” I say as I pace. Narrowing my eyes, “No one shows up at a door. No one is picked up.”

  My phone pings signaling ominously a response to her text.

  “Perfect, he’s meeting you there. Go hang out. You’re the one making it sound like the prom.” She crosses her arms. “Tracy and I will walk you over. Hell, we’ll stay for a glass of juice or something and head out when you give us the ok. It’ll be fine.” She leans in and whispers, “Besides, Tracy and I could use some ‘alone’ time. I couldn’t get my freak on with you in the next bed.” She runs her fingers through her hair, tousling it. “Lord knows, I hate being quiet.” She chuckles. “Better get in there and make yourself pretty.”

  “Very funny.” As I turn, Tracy walks out of the bathroom, dressed and ready. She smiles as she walks over to Sally and locks her into an intense kiss, a total tonsil hockey match, grabbing her breast for good measure. “Uh, I better go get dressed.”

  Sally calls back, “Get ready. I’ll pick something out for you to wear.”

  “I can dress myself, thank you.”

  I close the door. The bathroom is steamed up, and the mirror is fogged except for two single hand prints. Rolling my eyes, I turn the water on, stepping in. Thank God, there is still some hot water. The water cascades down, warming my body. Images of Tommy flash into my head. My nipples pearl from the contact with the water. As I spread soap over my tits, my body starts to respond. Shit, I guess it has been a while. I’m tempted to take some ‘me’ time, but I only have an hour. Less than that now. I hope I don’t smell like a brewery. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten that drunk.

  Stepping out of the shower, I towel off and slip on my robe. I brush my teeth twice to get that lovely sweater tongue feeling out of my mouth. I dry and spike my hair, throw on my usual makeup, and walk out to see what Sally has picked out, ready to totally reject it.

  Tracy asks, “Can I pop in here again?”

  “Sure.” I smile, turning to Sally.

  “Ok, love the hair.” She muses, “Hmm, a bit too much eye makeup for ten o’clock in the morning on a Saturday.” She walks into the bathroom to grab a tissue.

  “But, I like it this way,” I grumble.

  She swipes a bit from around both my eyes. “Perfect. I checked out your clothes and pulled some stuff.”

  I look down at the bed. She didn’t do half bad. I’ll still look like me…but dressier. She had a blue tank, along with a short pleated flirty mini skirt in cream that I never bothered to wear. My mom bought it and I have an innate aversion to anything my mom picks out, even if I do kinda like it. “A skirt?” I lift the material and look at Sally.

  “Yes, honey. A skirt. You do wear skirts don’t you?”

  “Yeah, but not for a while. They’re so girlie.”

  “That’s why I balanced it with a tank and your combat boots. You can feel like you and still look like a girl. You wear shorts so I know you don’t have a problem showing some leg. You will have boy shorts on underneath. So, what’s the big deal? Hate to break it to you, honey. But, you’re a girl. Act like it.”

  “Ok, ok!” I smirk, running my hand down the skirt.

  “I found these buckle and dog collar necklaces you can wear as bracelets if you wrap them around. “

  “Cool.” Grabbing the clothes and some boy shorts and a bra from my drawer, I start to carry them into the bathroom, turning and remembering Tracy is in it.

  “Seriously, where are you going?”

  “The bathroom to get dressed, as soon as Tracy is done.”

  “Right. We’re both girls. You don’t have anything I don’t have.”

  “I’m not getting naked in front of you. No offense, but I just met you last night,” I say, my mouth presses into a thin line as I stand my ground.

  “Ok, I get it. But, I’m not going to room with someone who thinks I do nothing but check her out.” Tracy comes out of the bathroom and I scurry in. Sally calls through the door.
“Amber – no bra with that top - you’ll see every bunch and bump. It has a bra inside anyway.”

  “Whatever!” I laugh as I dress. I survey the look in the mirror. I like what she put together. It’s more girlie than I usually go. I’m not much of a fashionista chick. I get confused and usually opt for jeans, boots, and a t-shirt.

  I walk out to be critiqued, and I get a slow whistle instead. “Honey, you look hot. I love that short skirt! It moves with your walk and calls attention to your ass.” She lifts the sides, watching it lilt down. Turning me to face her, she lifts my tits, grazing them lightly with her thumbs declaring, “Tits look perky. Very cool.” She smiled a devilish grin knowing full well what she did, eyeing my erect nipples standing at full attention.

  “Fuck! I can’t go without a bra if I’m going to shine my headlights! Geez, Sally.” I laugh exasperated, grabbing a pale blue sweater to cover myself.

  “No sweater.” She pulls it down and off my shoulders.

  “I need a sweater. Look at my nipples, damn it!” I pass my hands in front of my tits like one of those girls from the Price is Right. “Even if they go down before we head out, it’s frickin’ cold outside, and this top is too tight. I wear shit like this to bed, not out in public.”

  “Leave it on but only if it gets cold.” She pouts, “It ruins the look, hon.” She raises her hands in surrender, “My bad. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” Snapping her fingers, she reaches for the sweater, “Give it to me, I’ll put it in my bag.”

  I begrudgingly give it to her, and she delicately folds it, placing it in her bag. We head out the door to the elevator. As we walk down the hall, I take a moment to check out the two goddesses in front of me. Sometimes life isn’t fair.

  We cross the lobby and head out into the sunshine. “Damn it, I left my sunglasses.” I curse.

  “No time. The restaurant is on the north end of campus. As it is, we’ll be lucky to get there on time,” Tracy says.