Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  She’s right. I know she’s right. I am scared. After what I’ve been through, I feel like I have the right to be afraid. But then again, when I moved here, I vowed to be a new woman. I want to take hold of life and grab what I want—mostly Lane’s ass. I don’t want to be gutless anymore.

  “So what’s your story? You ever going to settle down or is it balls to the wall forever?” I ask, trying to take the spotlight off of myself.

  Marley releases me and grabs her mug, swallowing down coffee. She looks over my head as if imagining a scene playing out there. “I don’t know. I’m not a planner. I just go where the wind blows.”

  “You ever had a steady guy?” I ask, noticing the slightest shift in her expression.

  She pushes her bangs out of her eyes and sighs. “Yeah. Followed him around like a puppy—from London to Brooklyn, then up here. Then he was gone. Said I was too wild for him. He wanted to settle down with a nice American girl.” Marley clicks her tongue. “Good riddance, mother fucker. Good luck with that, given your bad credit and crooked knob. Besides, it’s not so bad having a new guy in your bed every week. Variety is the spice of life.”

  “So is venereal disease at that rate.”

  “What’s on the agenda today?” Marley asks, after flipping me off.

  I rinse off our dishes and load them in the dishwasher. “I really want some fall decorations for my porch. Some pumpkins or something, you know?”

  “Cool. I can help with that. You going to be handing out candy for trick or treating next month?” she asks while propping one foot up onto my kitchen counter and folding herself over to stretch like a ballerina on her barre.

  “Oh, yes! My first Trick-or-Treat! I’ll get the good candy so the neighborhood kids know what’s up.”

  Marley laughs. “I’m not mad at that. At that age, my affection could certainly be bought for full-size chocolate bars. Come to think of it, that’s how I landed my first kiss.”

  _______________

  I walk into work Wednesday morning with a big smile and some pep in my step. Becca grins from behind the counter as soon as she sees me.

  “So I assume you’ve heard the news?” she asks, as I join her and tuck my purse into the desk drawer.

  “I got the email newsletter this morning.” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I read the email aloud. “Announcing a new series from New York Times Bestselling Author Alaina Taylor. Set in the seedy world of Las Vegas, this team of high-roller ladies hold all the power when it comes to their company. But will they raise the stakes and take a gamble when it comes to love?”

  “Sounds great, doesn’t it?” Becca asks.

  “It does,” I answer, pressing the phone to my chest. “I can’t wait to get my hands on it.”

  “You won’t have to wait as long as everyone else.”

  “What?” I screech.

  Becca cringes and presses her hands over her ears. “If I tell you that I’ve managed to wrangle you an autographed advance copy are you going to explode or something? Because that shit is messy.”

  Pure joy radiates from my body as I bounce on my toes and clap my hands together. “Oh my god! I love you! Thank you!” I pull Becca in for a hug as she laughs at my excitement. “And I don’t want to know how you know exploding humans are messy.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” she says after I release her. “Don’t worry. My secrets are my secrets.”

  “I could die right now. Honestly.”

  “Don’t die. I need you to cover your shift. I’ve got to run errands today.”

  “I’m okay. I’m okay,” I repeat, trying to convince Becca and myself.

  “Okay. I’ll be back after lunch. If you need something to work on, I’d like a new display in the front window. Whatever theme you want,” she says. “Hold down the fort?”

  I snap off a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain and new favorite person.”

  With no customers to distract me, I decide to work on the window display. I pull down everything in there, clean out the area, and stare at the empty space and glass window. Just then, I see a couple come out of the diner across the street. They’re holding hands, wrapped in jackets and scarves, and wearing matching smiles. That’s when it hits me.

  I run to the stockroom to look for supplies and am busy digging through a box of paper and ribbon when I hear the front door chime. I load my arms up with what I need, grab the scissors off of Becca’s desk and head for the store when the stockroom door swings open.

  It’s Lane. He’s looking around the dimly lit space. When he spots me, his grin and dimple make an appearance. I swear I’m having hot flashes.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hi.” He’s wearing a dark green button up shirt and jeans. His bright eyes shine from the overhead fluorescent light. “If you’re looking for Becca, she’s out running errands.”

  “I wasn’t looking for Becca,” he says, his voice low and gritty. He starts toward me and I stay there like it’s my job to stand in this very spot. A few feet away, I feel his intention. He’s coming for me and he’s not asking permission this time. That’s okay, because he knows he’s got it.

  Just before Lane reaches me, I drop everything to the ground. My hands go to his shoulders and I jump up wrapping my legs around his waist as his arms hold me. Our lips meet and this kiss is more exciting, more electric than the one before it.

  He moans into my mouth as his tongue caresses mine and his hands pull me harder against his tight body. When Lane is touching me, he is all I can think about. Every worry, every thought just disappears. All I know is that I want more, need more, always more.

  Lane walks us to a stack of boxes while never coming up for air. He sets me down on the boxes while pulling my long, flowy skirt up. His hands immediately go to my legs, warm fingers sliding up and down my thighs. This time, I moan as he pushes my knees wide and presses in against me.

  “You feel that, Stella?” he growls. “That’s what you do to me. You turn me into a hormonal teenager with no self control.” His hardness presses against the soft, thin material of my panties and I want to tell him that I feel it too, that I want him too. Instead, I simply roll my hips forward, grinding against the front of his jeans.

  “Fuck,” he grunts, his lips leaving mine as he rests his forehead on my shoulder. Lane’s hands slide around my waist under my skirt, his fingertips skating the edge of my panties. When he slips his hand inside and grabs ahold of my ass, I let out a wanton whimper.

  I am putty in his hands, literally. He moves my body against his, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass as he pulls me to him again and again. Our breaths come fast now and I cannot get enough. I tug on his neck bringing his lips back to mine where he devours me like a starving man.

  The front door chimes again and we break apart, both panting and wearing matching grins. He backs away from me and rubs at the back of his neck with one hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Shit. That is not why I came here.”

  “It certainly wasn’t listed under ‘Benefits’ in the employee handbook,” I tease. He blows out a breath and drops his hands to his sides.

  “Can I take you out on a date, Stella?”

  I hear Becca’s telltale humming coming from just outside the stockroom. She’s probably searching the store for me.

  “I’ve got to get back out there,” I say, hopping down off the boxes and straightening my shirt.

  Lane’s mouth forms a little pout, he opens his lips to say something and changes his mind. “I’ll keep her busy,” he says, turning on his heel and heading out of the stockroom.

  “Lane!” she says. “What are you doing here?” Becca asks.

  “Looking for you, of course.”

  I hear this exchange while I gather all my materials from the floor and head back into the store. By the time I make it out there, they are in Becca’s office.

  I start organizing my supplies for the window display, laying everything out on the front counter. I’m lost in cutting paper and
rolling out string when Lane passes the front counter on his way out.

  “See you later, Stella,” he says with a tight smile before pushing through the door and disappearing down the sidewalk.

  Becca makes her way out of her office, straightens a couple of books on an endcap and joins me behind the counter.

  “Any particular reason your neighbor wanted to keep me distracted in my office while you were nowhere to be found?” she says.

  My stomach drops and my mouth bobs open, but no words come out. “I was just gathering supplies in the stockroom for the display,” I answer, though it sounds much more like a question.

  Becca hits me with a look that makes my blood run cold. I don’t want to lose this job. Just when I think I’m going to have a panic attack, she cracks a smile which turns into hysterical laughter.

  “Oh, you two,” she says. “You should have seen your face just now. Trying to act all innocent. Honey, I’m not mad. If Lane Holder wanted to do dirty things to me in the stockroom, I’d be a willing participant too.”

  I let out a breath and press a hand over my thunderous heart. “God, Becca. I almost had a heart attack. And no one said we were doing dirty things back there.”

  She walks past me with a dark grin. “Next time you’re trying to convince someone of that, you might want to make sure your skirt is not tucked into the back of your underwear.” More cackling as I gasp and reach behind me to find my ass completely exposed. My cheeks—both sets—burn with embarrassment as Becca closes her office door.

  I eventually get over my mortification, grab a quick lunch from the diner, and get to work on the front display. Becca leaves again, giving me a wave through the window.

  I work all afternoon on the display, using my supplies from the stockroom, books that fit the theme and even brown and orange leaves from the sidewalk outside. Squeezing myself inside to adjust something, my shirt snags on a thumbtack. I reach for a book in the bottom of the display, but my shirt is really caught and the tack is not budging. A few people pass by on the sidewalk outside. I smile and wave like I am part of the display, which is the actual situation right now. Bending and stretching my arms as much as possible, I can’t reach the damn tack.

  Not wanting to rip a hole in my shirt, I decide the only way out is to pull my arms inside and slide out of it. It’ll be fine to be in my camisole just long enough to detach my shirt and throw it back on. I bend my knees and duck my head through the opening, leaving it hanging on the backboard. I climb into the window now for a better angle and get the thing unhooked in a few seconds. Feeling victorious, I throw my hands in the air and do a little dance, shaking my ass back and forth.

  Suddenly, a knock on the glass startles me. I whip around to see a group of teenagers watching me. One holds a phone up as if he’s taking a photo—or worse, video. What’s done is done, so I smile and throw up a peace sign as they break out into hysterics and move on.

  By the time Becca returns late that afternoon, I’m just finishing up. I watch her through the window. She’s loaded down with shopping bags, but stops and looks everything over. She grins and gives me a thumbs up with her free hand before coming inside.

  “Fall in Love,” she says, reading my autumn-themed header. Leaves dangle from clear string all over the display and a pile of them scattered around the bottom surround a variety of romance books. I tried to keep it unbiased, so there’s only two Alaina Taylor novels in there. “I like it. It looks great.”

  The sidewalks have been full of people all day, everyone seeming to be in a great mood. “Lots of people out and about in the middle of a Monday.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s the Fall Festival this weekend. People will be prepping all week. There will be cider, carnival rides, funnel cakes, apple bobbing. All the good stuff.”

  “Geez. That sounds like it’s right out of a Hallmark movie,” I say.

  “Small town life, kid. It’s real alright. And just wait until the shenanigans start. There’s always a fight or two and someone always ends up spiking the cider. Folks roll in from even smaller towns surrounding us and the people watching is phenomenal.”

  I lean my hip against the counter. “I look forward to it, then. I’m sure my friend Marley will want to go. She loves shenanigans. Actually, she is shenanigans.”

  “Sounds like my type of broad,” Becca says.

  _______________

  The air is crisp tonight. It’s cool, but not so much that I need a jacket as I sit on my front porch swing with a book and a glass of wine. The stack of pumpkins and miniature bail of hay on my porch really make it feel like fall. I grab my glass of wine from the porch railing and take a sip, when I hear footsteps on the stairs. I look up and don’t see anyone. Then, Chap appears, wearing a red hoodie sweatshirt.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say, scratching behind his ears. I look over at Lane’s house and see no signs of life. “Did you escape the backyard again?” I pat the spot next to me and he jumps up on the swing. Chap quickly makes himself at home, resting his head in my lap.

  I swing back and forth, petting Chap and finishing my glass of wine. When my eyes get tired of reading in the dim light, I decide to call it a night.

  “Ready to pack it up?” I ask Chap. His eyes move to my face, but everything else stays put. “Come on. Let me get you back home, you loaf.”

  Chap hops down and stretches his short little legs while I put my glass inside. He follows me down the steps and over to his house. When I knock on Lane’s front door, Chap barks. I’m not sure what to do with him if Lane isn’t home. I guess I could keep him for the night. I look down at his adorable face and know it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

  Lane’s door swings open and he flips on the porch light. I squint my eyes, adjusting to the sudden brightness. When they do adjust, I find Lane there wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair is a mess as if he’s been running his hands through it over and over again. Black-rim glasses sit on his face and make him look like a modern-day version of Clark Kent. Just when I thought he couldn’t be more attractive.

  “Hi,” I say. He smiles until he sees Chap at my feet. Lane’s smile falls and he shakes his head. “I think your dog likes me.”

  “Ha. I think he does too.” He steps onto the porch with me now, bare feet sticking out from the bottom of frayed jeans. “But who could blame him?”

  “I don’t know. I think he just likes me because I’m soft. He always wants to lay on me.”

  “Again, who could blame him?” Lane smirks and it is my own brand of kryptonite. “Chap, get inside.” The dog follows his command without question, disappearing into the house.

  “So, Becca is totally on to us,” I say, tucking my hands into my back pockets before I lose control and reach for him. “I had a complete wardrobe malfunction that was all your fault.”

  Lane pushes his glasses higher on his nose and grins. “Sorry not sorry. I’ve been so swamped with work, you were the best part of my day.”

  “Ah,” I say, taking a step back as he moves forward. “Well, if you’re busy with work, I better go.”

  “I can take a small break.”

  He backs me up so that I’m leaning against his porch railing. A cool breeze blows through, sweeping fallen leaves across wooden floor planks in a shushing sound I’ve grown to love. Lane’s tattoos are on display tonight with his short-sleeve shirt and I want to trace every line of ink and have him tell me their story.

  “Thanks again for inviting me Saturday.” Lane leans forward, resting his hands on the railing on each side of my hips. “You should have seen Marley and Joshua. They’re like a lit match and gunpowder—dangerous, but so entertaining. I had a good time.”

  “Just a good time?” he asks, one eyebrow arching over the rim of his glasses.

  Without thinking, my eyes drop to his mouth. “Okay. Some parts were better than good.”

  He smiles and it makes my heart pound against my chest. Lane is all perfect white teeth, crooked grin, and eyes that shine in the
glow from the porch light.

  “Which parts? Be very specific.”

  I can’t help but return his smile now. This man, with all his sweet, is a bit devious too. I want him so badly, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A chill races down my spine when his thumb sweeps against my wrist. The energy between us is palpable. I can taste the air mixed with a bit of Lane and I can’t deny him anymore.

  “Fuck it,” I say, before reaching for him. My greedy hands pull Lane down to meet me and our mouths collide in a hungry and desperate kiss. He hums when my nails scrape up into his hair, pulling him harder. He tastes like coffee and mint and I want to never stop kissing him. I feel this kiss in every inch of my body and for a split second I recognize that I’ve never felt this way before.

  I’m conflicted by that feeling. While I am grateful to have it now, I’m bitter that I haven’t been kissed like this my whole life. I’ve been missing out on passion, on unhinged desire. And while I know this is still new, I can’t help but feel that Lane would kiss me this way until his last breath. This distracts me and it’s too late to recover when I realize my lips have stopped responding to him.

  Lane places two quick pecks on my lips, before pulling away. He looks into my eyes, searching for something. I feel it deep inside, like he can see right through me to the coward lurking beneath the surface. “Why are you fighting this, Stella?”

  I look away, staring into the dark and quiet street. Biting my bottom lip, I stay quiet, not knowing how to answer him. I don’t want to admit anything. I don’t want to own up to wanting him more than anything I’ve ever known. I don’t want to admit that I’m scared to get to know him, and that I feel like he’s more than I deserve.

  “Can I take you out? On a date? How many times are you going to make me ask?” he asks. “You know, where we could share a meal? And maybe end the night with another one of those kisses that I can’t get enough of?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why would it be stupid to fall for me?” he asks.