Pushing The Limits: Take Me On Part 20

"Yes." She brightens and I wait for rainbows to appear behind her and blue birds to land on her shoulder. Mrs. Collins definitely is too happy of a person or maybe I've been down for so long that I've forgotten what happiness is.

She loses a bit of the rainbow as she folds her hands on her desk and settles into her serious face. "But it's an extremely compet.i.tive scholarship and this isn't a simple essay and transcript situation. Students from across the nation will be sending in videos showing why they would be the best candidate."

I scan the three pages while dread and hope battle for dominion. Oh, my G.o.d, I actually have a shot at winning this, but I'll have to find some footage of my old fights and videotape me training West. I can show his training from beginning to end. And this is where the dread eats the hope. He's going to need to spar, which means I will, too.

"Haley?" Mrs. Collins says. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine." I run a hand through my hair. "Thank you for this. I can't tell you how much this means to me."

The smile on her face is so sincere that I relax in my chair. Maybe she's not out to destroy me.

"Your grandfather speaks highly of you. He's very proud of your accomplishments in his gym and at school."

The relaxing turns to sagging. Great-guilt. One parentteacher conference and they're best friends for life. I pretend to read the application while she taps a pen against the desk. "When I first began social work, I was hired as a case worker in a homeless shelter."

My eyes shoot to hers and she steadily holds my gaze. She knows. Dear G.o.d, she knows.

"It's not easy to be without a home. It's confusing and scary and if it's that way for an adult, it has to be twice as terrifying for a teenager. I know you're no longer there, but I also know things are still floating. Unfortunately, the state isn't allowing me to take you on as a client, but because I work in this school you can talk to me anytime and my door will always be open."

"How do you know?"

"Your parents didn't sign up for the parentteacher conference and then I couldn't reach them by phone and the letter was returned, so I found your grandfather. Haley, he really does care about you."

Care about me? I crave to crush his throat. He told her our family's private business. Why didn't he lie? Why didn't he say it was a mistake? Why didn't he tell her that we have a home?

I stand, wanting to leave, but not sure if I'm allowed. The scholarship application crackles in my hand. "Are you taking me away from my family?" The words slip out and I immediately wish I could take them back.

She shakes her head. "Regardless of what you believe, the state isn't interested in destroying you or your family, and, from what I understand, you're living in a safe environment. We're here to help, Haley. I'm here to help."

At the word safe, a bubble of hysterical laughter wells up inside me and bursts out of my mouth. The sound is definitely out of place and instead of making me feel better the laughter twists an already too-tight spring. Dizzy with the crazy emotions, I stumble for the door. Right as I touch the k.n.o.b, I sober up and freeze.

Not that I'm complaining. "What do you mean you aren't allowed to take me on?"

She leans back in her seat and the quirky set of her lips and eyes reminds me of how Jax stares at his opponent before entering the ring-as if she's trying to figure out my next move. "My job at this school is to help those who the state believes need a little extra push in the right direction. Regardless of how I tried to convince the powers that be, you don't fit the requirements for my program."

I slump against the wall in relief. Oh, thank G.o.d, I can stop worrying about CPS arriving at the door and dragging me and Maggie away. "That's good."

"I guess," she says. "But my gut says you need to talk to someone, and I have a sinking feeling once you walk out, I'll never see you again."

A twinge of guilt rocks me because every word out of her mouth is absolutely true: I do need to talk to somebody. I want to open my mouth and vomit out all that has happened, to take the darkness and give it to somebody else. I want the nastiness and decay out of my body, out of my soul, and maybe if I expelled it in words, then maybe, just maybe, the rot would be gone.

But it's like my windpipe has collapsed and my voice box was taken hostage. To tell her about my life-losing my home, what happened with Matt-that would mean exposing myself.

I trusted Matt and that didn't work out, and I was stupid enough to talk to West and he hasn't acknowledged a word I said since it happened.

"Thanks," I say to her while turning the k.n.o.b. "But I'm fine."

West In the cafeteria, Haley drops into the seat across from me and immediately pops a French fry into her mouth. "I'm considering tying your hands to your head. Maybe that way you'll keep your guard up."

I chuckle. Haley isn't a "Hi" and useless conversation type of girl. She's direct, to the point, not capable of bulls.h.i.t, and I'm falling harder for her every day. I'm completely f.u.c.ked because she's d.a.m.ned insistent that we keep things "simple." "I'm keeping my guard up."

"What. Ever."

I've been waiting for some sort of confirmation that she might see us as more than friends. More than coach and student. I slather a French fry in the ketchup, then push my tray away, wondering how much Haley's had to eat all week. "Want to go to dinner tonight? Before we work out? My treat."

She shakes her head without looking at me. "I've got to work before we go to the gym. You know, bills and all." Weak smile on her part.

"What time do you get off? I'll pick you up and get you to the gym."

Haley scowls at her plate. She hates accepting help, but she mumbles, "Seven."

For the first time since Rachel's accident, I spot Isaiah at school. He walks in the side door pure night of the living dead-pale, dark circles under his eyes, the whole dead-on-his-feet montage. I stare at him and he a.s.sesses me like I'm sc.u.m.

I glance away first. He's been standing by my sister, holding her hand, making her happy when I can't. That deserves some respect.

Haley's gaze flickers between the two of us. "You know him?"

"He's Rachel's boyfriend."

Both of Haley's eyebrows rise. "No kidding."

"Wish I was."

"How'd that happen?"

I shrug because I only know what others have told me. "They met drag racing."

"Wow. Adrenaline rushes must be a family thing."

I chuckle, never having thought of it that way. "Do you know him?"

"He lives in the same neighborhood as me, but I don't know anything more than rumors and we both know that rumors typically aren't true."

We drop the subject of Isaiah and move on to fight strategy. When a scuffle in the corner draws her attention, I toss my remaining French fries onto her plate. I hold my breath when she turns back and breathe again when she doesn't appear to notice. If I got caught doing that s.h.i.t, she'd kick my a.s.s.

"So I have this thing," she says.

Interesting. "A thing?"

"Yeah, a thing." Haley rummages through her backpack and withdraws a stapled-together pack of papers. "It's a scholarship. A full ride and I really need it."

She pauses and I feel like s.h.i.t.

"Anyway," she continues. "I have to submit a video and I'd like to tape me training you and some of your workouts to show why I'm a good candidate for the scholarship."

I wiggle my fingers and she places the paperwork in my hands. Haley sucks in her bottom lip as she watches me from across the lunch table. "I'll understand if you say no."

Like I could say no to that face. "You didn't have to create a big deal to get a video of me with my shirt off. I'd take it off if you simply asked."

"Bwha..." It's a short, s.e.xy sound that accompanies an open mouth and red cheeks. I love it when she blushes. Since our night together, I've cut back on the s.e.xual innuendos, but if she's going to draw attention to her lips, then all bets are off.

I flip through the scholarship paperwork and the guilt that's been killing me for the past three weeks mushrooms. With Haley's current family situation, she needs this money and my father may be to blame. I'm home. She's not. My life continues on as normal. She's still living the nightmare. "Whatever you need, I'm your guy."

Those gorgeous dark eyes brighten and her fork clangs against the tray when she drops it. "For real?"

"Yeah." The least I can do is let her videotape our sessions.

Becoming the exact opposite of the hard-core drill instructor busting my a.s.s at the gym, Haley claps her hands. Last night she continually screamed at me to keep up my guard as I ducked and weaved while pounding out a three-one kick combination on a bag.

She pushes her chair back and springs to my side of the table, wrapping both arms around my neck. "Thank you!"

Her hair falls forward, caressing my face, and her intoxicating scent envelops me. The memories of holding her all night flash in my mind. Never in my life have I felt such belonging and peace as when I lay awake watching her sleep.

My arms slide along her spine and, as I go to stand, she shifts back and kisses my cheek. Soft lips caress my skin and my fist clutches a strand of her hair. My heart beats hard and I turn my head, hoping to catch her mouth with mine. Our gazes meet and l.u.s.t darkens her eyes.

Haley stiffens, like her mind caught up to her actions. She practically leaps away from me and presses a hand against her lips. "I didn't mean that."

I couldn't stop the grin if someone paid me a million dollars because, yeah, she did mean it. Haley, whether she's willing to admit it or not, wants more.

"Thank you," she says as she continues to step back. "For helping me with the scholarship, I mean. Um... As in I'll see you tonight."

In a blur, she pivots and is out of the lunchroom with Marissa by her side. d.a.m.n, no girl has ever left me speechless or with this type of smile on my face. Then again, no girl has ever caused me to collapse on the floor in a pool of sweat.

I pick up her tray, then mine, dumping the garbage and placing the trays on the rack. Watch out, Haley. Simple just went out the window.

Haley I'm late walking out the door of the pizzeria and West will be more than happy to throw it in my face after I gave him a hard time a few weeks back. The cold wind slaps my cheeks and there's a sense of comfort when West backs his SUV out of his spot and eases his car next to me.

I open the door, slide in and smile. The heater is on full force and every single vent is pointed in my direction. Sitting in the driver's side like he's done nothing amazing, West sure does make it difficult to not fall.

"How was work?" he asks.

"Slow." Which means that I didn't make the tips I was hoping for.

West reaches to the backseat and I quickly lift my freezing hands to the heater. Yeah, they're cold again and, yes, I'm trying to hide it from West.

"Hey, Haley," he says.

I drop my hands. "Yeah?"

A handful of pink roses appear in front of me. Air catches in my throat and I lose the ability to speak.

The roses shake in front of me and I snap out of my shock long enough to take them. "Thank you."

West presses on the gas and turns onto the main road. "This is what I was thinking. We work out, you process this and then later we'll discuss how we'll handle moving things from simple to complicated."

"A little full of yourself, aren't you?" Yet I say it as I inhale the sweet scent of the largest rose.

"You like guys that show with flowers, remember?"

I laugh and West smiles at the sound. How on earth did he remember?

"Okay," I say. "We'll work out first and then maybe we'll discuss complicated."

"Not maybe."

"Maybe. And, West?"

He glances over at me.

"There's no way I'm going easy on you because of this."

West "Keep your guard up!" Haley shouts. We've been at it for two hours and my arms move as if they've got hundred-pound weights attached to them. "You've got to step into me when you go for the punch and stop stepping back. This isn't self-defense cla.s.s, which means there are no points for running."

We're in the ring and Haley raises the pads she wears on her arms to her face as we continue the combination. I inhale deeply and throw a double jab, a cross, and my shin meets the pads down by her thigh as she instantly lowers them. With each punch, a breath exhales out of my mouth and Haley marks each hit with a grunt in order to keep me in tempo.

On beat with the music pounding out from the speakers, Haley's feet switch-a crazy crisscross she's yet to teach me. She rounds on me and she expects me to match her pace. "Come on-you've got to move. Keep it parallel otherwise I'll crack you in your head or slam you onto the floor."

She makes those types of remarks often, but since we've been training, Haley's never taken a swing. I believe she could toss me to the floor, and I wonder why she hasn't.

I wipe the sweat from my forehead, but another wave floods from my scalp onto my face. My hands are hot in my gloves and my biceps beg for a rest.

"One more time all the way through," she demands. I shoot her a glare and swear the s.a.d.i.s.t smiles. "You've got it in you. Dig deep and find it. Same combo."

Same combo meaning she wants me to put it all together. Jesus Christ, I can barely catch my breath never mind remember the entire combination.

Her legs switch again, but this time I move with her and I like the exotic slant of her mouth. "Good boy, now, if you'd keep those guards up, you might still be standing in the ring."

f.u.c.k. My gloves slam to my temples and Haley holds the pads up. I throw a jab and Haley ducks out of the way. "Who are you fighting, your grandma? Come on! Throw it like you mean it. Throw it like you're actually trying to hit. What the h.e.l.l, West. I'm not playing here."

As if she injected anger into my veins through a sharp needle, energy rushes to my muscles and the double jab strikes, followed by a cross, a left hook to the head, another cross, a reload and then a low kick to the legs.

Haley drops the pads. "You need to step toward me and punch at the same time. Stepping first is going to tip your hand. He'll back out of the way or worse, read the punch and take advantage of your dropped guard and plug you upside the head."

I rest an arm against the cage for support. I lost the shirt an hour ago and my shorts stick tight, becoming an additional layer of skin. "Why so many d.a.m.n jabs? My cross is more powerful."

"Your jab is your most important hit. It's your closest punch and it's not going to throw you off balance."

Maybe because I'm too d.a.m.n tired to think, I shake my head to let her know I'm not getting it. She gestures with her head for me to straighten and when I do, she wiggles her fingers at my cross. I rub my arm against my forehead. "What about the pads?"

I've never thrown a punch straight at Haley before and the thought twists my stomach.

"You're not going to hit me," she says. "If you want, mock throw it and you'll still get the point."

My pretend girlfriend is c.o.c.ky. "All right." I widen my stance and "throw" a cross. Haley's arm snaps out and deflects the hit and in a second her cross is frozen at my chin.

"You're leaning," she says.

I am. My body tilted with her deflection. d.a.m.n.