Pushing Limits (5 page)

“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.

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 me, 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.

We keep a good pace, and I realize Sally was right, I don’t need a
sweater.  The sun is out and a nice breeze blows across campus as we head
to the restaurant.  As we reach the edge of campus, Sally links my arm and
guides me across the street.  The restaurant is packed with
students.  The rich aroma of pancakes and waffles fill the air, making me
realize I am famished.  The patio is in the front, and flowers and ivy
fall from the four posts of the half wall that lines the patio area.  It’s
packed with kids in shorts and flip flops, hanging out, and chowing down. 
Voices buzz and occasional laughter floats across the air as we approach the
hostess stand.

A short girl with a pixie haircut and a sweet face approaches us saying,
“Hey Sally!  I haven’t seen you in forever!  How are you?”

“Hey, Carrie.  This is my roommate, Amber, and this is Tracy. 
How are classes?”

“Great….Roommate?  What happened to Lily?”  She rolls her
eyes.  “Never mind, I forgot it was you I was talking to for a
minute.”  Giggling, she asks, “Table for three?”

“Actually we’re meeting someone.  Well, Amber is but I don’t think
she told him.  What are the chances we can get one of the round
tables?”  She leans forward, smiling her most persuasive smile.  “Pretty
please?”  She giggles.

“On a Saturday morning?”  Carrie smirks and with a sigh, she says,
“For you, maybe.  Let me take a look around and see if anything’s opening
up.  Go in and find your friend, and I’ll take a look.” 

I scan the room looking to see if he’s here and spot him inside the
restaurant at a table.  His hair is a dark mass of curls.  He’s
scoping out the menu so I have a moment to stare. 
Wow
.  He’s
in a t-shirt and jeans, so different from the suit.  He seems relaxed,
comfortable. 
So hot
.  I don’t belong here, having breakfast
with him. 
Shit!  What the fuck am I doing?
  I turn
sharply in an effort to leave, but Sally scoots me forward.

“Ok, now you’ve seen him.  Breathe, Amber.  It’s ok to
exhale.”  She eggs me on.

I weave my way towards him.  Somewhere along the way, Sally has
pulled back to speak with her friend, Carrie, pointing to the round table next
to Tommy.  As if on cue, the two couples stand and work their way toward
the door.  I force my feet to keep moving. 
What is wrong with me?

 “Hey,” I say, biting my lip, shielding my eyes from the bright sun
drifting in from the patio.  I have never been so thankful for momentary
blindness.