Pushing the Limits

By: Brooke Cumberland



“I thought things were going great?”

“They are!” she insists. “But when we went out last night, he got drunker than usual, and I thought maybe just maybe…”

She doesn’t need to finish her sentence to tell me what’s going on. Apparently, drunken Kellan isn’t much better than sober Kellan.

“Still nothing below the belt?”

“Not even close. I thought maybe with a few drinks in him, he’d loosen up a bit, help ease his nerves. But he was all ‘I just wanna make out with you. Your lips taste so good’…blahblahblah.”

“Maybe he had whiskey dick.”

She bursts out in laughter, whining, “Gah! Why won’t he just have sex with me? I’m a good lay!” Her outburst makes me snort out in laughter, the iced drink spewing right out of my nose.

“Jesus, Kendall.” I wipe my mouth and laugh. “Maybe you’re going at it all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“Guys like the chase. If you’re an easy target, it’s not a challenge.”

The corner of her lips wrinkles in disgust.

“Play hard to get,” I explain.

She scoffs. “Why do guys always want to play stupid games? I’m your girlfriend…you’ve got me! Now, do me!” She shouts to the ceiling of my car.

“Rather, do that.” I laugh and point at her pathetic plea. “That’ll have him ripping your clothes off in a heartbeat.”

She glares at me, and I smirk.

I park in front of the Waffle House and we walk inside, finding Zoe in one of the corner booths.

“Look who finally decided to show up after all,” Zoe taunts in her thick, New Jersey accent as we both shift into our chairs. She has her long, dark mane pulled up into a high bun, a few shorter pieces falling around her face.

Zoe moved to California three years ago when she turned eighteen to pursue a singing career. After rejection after another, and eventually going broke, she moved up to Berkeley, found Kendall to live with, and started working at one of the bars downtown.

She says it’s only until she figures out what she wants to do long-term.

But I think fear is setting her back more than anything.

“Oh, please. We’re thirty seconds late.”

“I managed to get off, showered, dressed, and arrive before the both of you. I deserve some kind of medal for that.”

I snort. “You get the bill. There’s your medal.”

“Ooh…apparently someone had a bad Saturday night.”

“It was fine.” I narrow my eyes. “Kendall’s the one stuck in make-out city,” I tease, earning a glare in return.

The waitress arrives with glasses of water and asks if we want our usual. We say yes, handing her back the menus. We order the same things every time.

I sip on my iced latte, glaring at Zoe’s pleased smirk. “So was this guy a keeper?” I ask referring to the guy that she brought home last night.

She shrugs carelessly. “Maybe. But if we get married, I’m keeping my surname.”

A wide smile spreads across both Kendall’s face and mine. “Why?” we ask in unison.

She frowns. “Because he has a horrible last name.” I raise my brows, silently motioning for her to tell us. “It’s Litoris.” She hangs her head in shame as the both of us burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” I say in between trying to catch my breath. “But that can’t be true.”

“It is! I even Googled him.”

“Dude, that’s unfortunate,” Kendall adds. “But if he ever runs for Senate, I’ll be sure to vote for Mr. Litoris.” That cracks us up even more as Zoe shakes her head and scowls.

“Laugh all you want.” She groans. “But his tongue is definitely nothing to laugh at.”

“I bet not.” I smile, biting down on my lower lip to hold in the laughter at her embarrassment.

The waitress arrives with our food shortly after, and we start a new topic of conversation, one that doesn’t cause lack of air from laughing too hard.

“So your mom wants you to come home for spring break this year,” Kendall asks once we begin eating. “You going?”

I keep my head down and shrug. “I don’t know. I really don’t want to.”

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