by Sally Henson
From this vantage point, I can appreciate how long Lane’s eyelashes are. He’s so handsome. My gaze alternates between Lane and the rain streaming random patterns down the passenger window.
We're supposed to eat supper at Tobi’s house, and then he's taking off to go back to Eastern. Friday night, I stayed over at Tobi’s so Lane and I could be together. Tobi’s parents don’t suspect anything since Lane’s coming over to their house to hang out with us isn’t unusual. I thought after volleyball was over we’d have more time together, but I’m not sure that’s going to matter now. He was at Tobi’s maybe a couple of hours and then he fell asleep. He looked so tired and worn out all weekend … older. He fell asleep on my sofa last night, too. I woke him at midnight for him to go home. It seems all parents have a thing for midnights, as if all bad decisions are made after the clock strikes twelve. Lane did the same thing Saturday night at his house.
The clink-clink of the blinker sounds and his leg shifts under my head as he moves his foot to brake and turn. It seems too early to turn again. Lane hasn’t uttered a sound since we left my house. The variety of silence has my stomach twisting now, and I haven’t noticed one glance from him since we left. Our time together is slipping away, and the knowledge that he’ll soon be gone again has my chest tightening too. I’m a mess, but I don’t show it.
Lane makes another turn and the truck comes to a stop. No, it’s too soon. Our time alone is coming to an end, and we haven’t said one word to each other since we left the house. He parks and turns off the engine. His face, long and weary, sinks along with his shoulders. My chest grows tighter, restricting my breathing. His eyes are fixated out the windshield. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I don’t ask. Instead, I patiently lie completely motionless in the same place on the seat, head on his leg, and don't even attempt to get up and go inside. It’s almost as if we’re strangers.
Lane finally looks down at me, avoiding eye contact. His hand moves from my shoulder and curls around my cheek in a gentle caress—it's warm. His touch causes my eyes to close. I’m not sure if I should be relieved or not, but my stomach settles down. He brushes his thumb along my cheekbone so softly. I look up at him. He gives me a weak smile. My heart drops at the sadness I see, and I’m surprised my heart can hurt more than it did when we parked. I don't know if I should speak. The waterworks are getting close to being turned on even, though I’m fighting to keep the tears at bay.
Lane’s eyes follow his finger’s feathery design as they skim across my skin. He takes in a deep, almost ragged, breath and I scrunch my brows, not sure of what's going on. His thumb moves to smooth out the lines on my forehead as he speaks.
“I haven't been much fun this weekend. I squandered what little time we had together, sleeping through most of it.” I start to speak, but he shushes me with a touch to my lips. “I ‘ve had a lot of homework lately. And with work …” He stops short of finishing his thought. “I'm sorry,” he whispers.
I sit up. He scoots from behind the steering wheel, next to me. Questions and concerns cover his face as we take each other in. My pulse quickens with crazy thoughts of what might be going on in his head.
“Come here.” He pulls me to sit on his lap, burying his head in my shoulder. Concern grows into fear with every gasp for oxygen my lungs make. This is unlike him. I slide my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight. His warm, even breath on my neck has my heart and mind whirling in confusion. It has the opposite effect on my muscles, relaxing, melting the tension away. My whole body is messed up.
I move my lips closer to his ear, barely breathing the words, “What's wrong?”
He shakes his head, not ready to say anything more. I can feel his fingers pull my shirt into his fists against my back. The masculine scent of his cologne draws my nose closer to his skin.
I inhale deeply. My eyelids flicker, as a shudder runs down my spine. I hold my breath and savor this moment until my body forces me to exhale. The whirlwind in my mind soothes. “You smell so good.” And I repeat my actions again, hoping my mind continues to settle. My lips seem to have a mind of their own, forcing me to turn until they find his skin. Lane shakes with a silent chuckle. I think about leaving a trail of kisses all the way to his lips. But I don’t.
“Regan?”
“Hmm?” I press my cheek to his.
“Do we spend enough time together?”
“Hm-mm.” That's a no. I trail back to inhale his cologne again. He tilts his head. I’m falling under a spell.
“Would you rather be with someone your own age?”
Spell broken. It has been so quiet in the cab of his truck. Even our voices have been nothing but a small whisper. But his question screams in this small space. He stops me dead in my tracks and I sit straight up. My wide-eyed, open-mouth expression, I'm sure, shows how appalled I am at his words.
“What are you talking about?” My eyes dart back and forth between his.
He rubs his lips together and looks down. A streak of fear shoots through my heart. I knew, earlier. I knew something was going on.
I gasp in shock. His eyes dart up to mine. “You're breaking up with me.” The tears I’d been fighting off suddenly fill my eyes, on the verge of winning the battle against my will to keep them inside. I didn't expect a breakup.
He shakes his head no, but he doesn't speak.
I push away to slide off his lap. I knew once he got to college, around all those older girls, I’d be nothing but an old childhood friend. I’ve been hiding it, but I was afraid what Lincoln said would come true. My body shudders as I struggle to hold it together.
He keeps his arms around me and refuses to let go. I can't move.
“There’s someone else?” My hands push against his chest, still trying to free myself from the arms I used to feel safe in. He acts shocked that I have the guts to ask him. A tear betrays me and slides down my cheek. “We should've left things the way they were.”
Hurt flashes in his eyes. “There’s no one else, Regan. I'm not breaking up with you.” He pulls me closer. I struggle less. Is he just saying that to get me to stop fighting him?
“Then what are you talking about?” I don’t want to, but I look him in the eyes.
“It’s just, it's harder than I thought it would be, you know.” His voice is so sad, it’s killing me. Lane sounds as if he’s falling away from me and toward someone else.
I manage to push out the words. “What is?”
“You don't think we spend enough time together. If we aren't enough, I don't want to keep you from finding someone who will be what you need.” He grimaces at his last few words.
My brows draw in and I quit fighting against him. He's confusing me even more. “Yes, I wish we could see each other every day. Like it used to be. But that doesn't mean I want to break up or, gross, see someone else.”
Lane closes his eyes and leans his head against me. Everything is quiet again. It’s his turn to say something, and I’m trying to wait patiently. When he raises his head, his hands tangle in my hair and his eyes lock onto mine. I can’t look away. The deep ocean of his eyes bore through me and into my soul. “You can tell me the truth. Are you sure?”
It kind of scares me when he does that. When he looks at me that way. But I scour every inch of his face. It’s alarming to see him so raw. “Yes. You and me, no one else. Remember?”
He rests his forehead against mine.
I drop my voice to the softness we shared before. “Besides, you're the one with all the beautiful girls flaunting themselves at you every day. And with Johanna on campus …” Ugh, I don’t know why he even bothers with me. Maybe Dad’s right.
His lids close with a groan while he slides his hands down my back. “I wish we were the same age. It would make things so much easier.”
“Do you? I mean …” Lane shakes his head, answering a question he doesn’t even know. He can’t keep working so much. “You’re exhausted, Lane. You can’t keep going like this. Do you want to stay at school on th
e weekends?” He still hasn’t opened his eyes. I place my hands on either side of his face and wait until he opens them.
My stomach quivers, still unsure of what’s happening between us. I use his very words to ask the same question, but first, I need to swallow down a sob that’s threatening to expose my pain. “You can tell me the truth. Are you sure?” I grit my teeth, do my best not to blink, force myself to breathe slow and steady, anything to keep from crying.
He places his hands on top of mine and pulls our hands down. With eyebrows pulled tight and low, he shakes his head slowly.
“Do you want to stay more than friends?” A stupid tear falls from my eye. I quickly wipe it with my arm, hoping he didn’t notice it.
He chuckles. “I didn’t think I would miss you this much. I didn’t know it was going to be so hard to juggle everything.” He takes a deep breath and blows it out.
My thumb slides under the sleeve of my shirt so I can wipe the moisture from my eyelashes while he’s not looking. He says he doesn’t want to break up, but his voice, his actions, aren’t very convincing. He says he still likes me more than a friend, but he’s having a hard time because we do live in two different worlds. I’m in stupid high school. “You’ve decided I’m too young to be dating a college boy.”
“That's not what I mean.” He growls and looks up to me, continuing to draw circles on the palm of my hand. “Promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“Promise you'll tell me if it's not enough.”
It’s not enough. I want to see you every day.
“I know other guys are asking you out.” His eyes are glassy with moisture. “Maybe they can be there for you. I’m not doing a very good job at being your boyfriend.”
“If we aren't together, there will be no one else. You're weren’t in the plan to begin with, remember?” I try to tease and lighten things up.
His brow furrows. “Yeah.”
We need to make things happy again. I can’t take this depressed atmosphere around us. “It’s hard for me too. Last weekend, your sisters heard me call you a jerk-face in the car.”
He smiles weakly, but it’s still a smile. “I heard.”
“That little snitch.” I act like I’m appalled she would rat me out. She probably told Lane about that guy asking me out, too. He looks down at our hands, no smile. “Look, if you’re too tired to—”
Lane interrupts me. “Regan … I want to be here for you. School and work has been more ... I’ll figure it out.”
My stomach is good, but my heart still aches, only because I can see the sadness that remains in him. Silence hangs around us. “Are we okay? You seem so sad and I don’t know what to do.”
A smile lifts at the corners of his lips as he nods. “It’s just, I don’t want to leave and I’m still mad at myself for falling asleep on you.”
I sigh and draw my brows in. “Don’t feel bad about that. I was tired too.”
A beautiful, dimple-clad smile flashes across his face.
“What?” I feel the weight lifting from my shoulders, and I can’t keep from smiling when he smiles like that.
He tilts his head. “There’s no way I could stand to see you with someone else.” He glances down and shakes his head. “The thought of some other guy spending time with you is what caused my confession in the first place. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
Oh, he looks good right now. I huff and shake my head. “You drive me crazy.”
He pulls me in close again and speaks against my lips. “I'm.” He presses a kiss to my lips. “Crazy.” Another kiss. “For.” And another. “You.” He ends with a soft, lingering kiss.
Lane’s phone plays Tobi’s text tune. He takes a deep breath and looks at the phone. With an irritated laugh, he shakes his head and shows me the message.
Done making out yet? Come eat!
I look at the time. “When did we leave my house?”
“Around four.” He grins. “I guess we've been out here a while.”
Tobi texts again. Hello …
In one smooth motion, he throws the phone on the dash and kisses me as if he's leaving and never coming back. It’s desperate and scary and I stop breathing. I push him away. “That feels like goodbye. Are you saying goodbye, forever?”
His features soften. “I'm trying to make up for not seeing you enough these past few weeks.”
My shoulders relax and I can breathe again. “Oh.”
Lane checks me over. The way he’s looking at me is unleashing the butterflies in my stomach. I stare at his eyes, his lips.
He leans toward me in slow motion. “Would you kiss me already?”
The way those words spilled out of his mouth and into my heart, makes my insides turn mushy.
His hands wind through my hair. Our lips mash and meld together. The air around us becomes charged. I never expected to feel so much for him, and I’m scared it’s falling apart. Maybe what we have is different … I want it to be different.
Tobi’s text tone rings out again.
Our kiss is becoming too intense, but I don’t pull away this time. I wait for him.
Lanes fingers trail down my arms, his eyes follow, watching his fingertips paint the canvas of my skin and trace my hand.
I watch his eyes focus on his work. His lips have finally curved to their natural, contented form. I whisper in his ear. “I love your smile”
He smiles wider, but doesn’t look away from his work.
The back glass is foggy, making it even harder to see out through the rain. Not that I care. The only thing I’m focused on is right here in front of me. I reach behind Lane and write “Regan and Lane” backwards in the middle of the back glass, so when he looks through the rearview mirror, he sees our names together.
Lane’s phone rings. He doesn’t even bother to see who’s calling. His fingertips slide up my arms once more, kissing me again. Slow and easy, and then leans so our foreheads touch.
“Should we go in?” I’m so out of breath, even from a slow, easy kiss.
He nods, keeping his eyes closed.
I slide off his lap and pick up my bag from the floorboard. My fingers grasp the door handle, and I look over at him, waiting for him to do the same. His head leans back against the seat, eyes still closed.
“You ready?” I wish we had more time by ourselves. Time to just be.
Lane clears his throat and looks at me. His eyes are still saying, kiss me. He blinks it away.
I reach my hand to his hair and muss it up. “You okay?” There’s still something dragging us down.
He puffs out a breath. “No.” He leans over and kisses me again. His voice beckons me to stay, but his words say otherwise. “Go on. Before I pull you back in and take you with me.” His dimples wink at me.
“You’re not going to stay?”
He covers my hand, lying on the seat between us. “I think I better take off. It's getting late and it'll take me longer to drive in the rain.” He smiles, communicating in silence, sharing a muted secret with me. One neither of us is sure of and neither willing to say.
“But—”
“Friday and Saturday—you and me?”
I nod with a gentle smile on my lips. “Volleyball’s almost over.”
He gives my hand a squeeze and releases me. “Tell Tobi I'll see her next weekend.” He slides under the steering wheel and cranks the engine.
I nod, trying my best to smile.
He tilts his head wearing a forced grin. “Look what you did to my windows.”
I look down at the seat between us. My cheeks flush with heat. “I think that was you.”
He sighs. “I miss you already.”
My eyes stay focused on him as I get out. Saltwater instantly floods my eyes. I smile, conceding to his decision to leave, and shut the door. Running through the rain to the house, I look back to see him watching me. My sobs mix with the rain, and I’m grateful he can’t see me fall apart.
Tobi has the door open, waiting for me. Whe
n I get there, she throws her arm in the air as Lane backs out and takes off. “Where's he going?”
My clothes are wet, and the remnants of rain on my face have camouflaged the rainbow of emotions I’ve just been through. The rain and fog on the windows of his truck is blurring his wave goodbye. My voice heaves through shudders and sobs that have become noticeable. “He said he needed to head back. He’ll see you next weekend.” Through the glass storm door, I watch his truck disappear.
Tobi hugs me. “Regan, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Her hug warms me through my wet clothes. I try to laugh and say I’m fine, but I can’t. No words are able to form in my mouth right now, so I shake my head and hold on to her.
“Let’s get you some dry clothes.” Tobi puts her arm around my shoulders and guides me to her bedroom.
23
Lane
“Good morning, handsome.” A smooth, flirty voice sails over my shoulder from behind.
Three more pull ups. Maybe if we ignore her she’ll go away.
So much for that. Ross strikes up a conversation with her. “How’d you like the show Saturday?”
Johanna’s been going to watch The Music Mutts play about every weekend. “You guys sounded great, Ross.” Maybe she has a thing for Ross.
I drop and go to the next station. “Hey, Johanna.” My fingers pull the pin and move to my normal slot and start my reps.
Ross leans his shoulder on the machine right beside her, gaining her attention. “I can get you and one of your roommates free tickets for this Friday.”
They follow me from station to station. Neither of them working out. What’s the point of following me? I do my best to ignore their conversation. I finally finish that round and decide to get on the treadmill. Usually, I’ll go through the circuit two more times, but I can’t listen to their drivel any longer. I plug my earbuds in, start my music, and pick up the pace.
Yesterday, I told my boss at work I need to cut back on my hours. It’s messing up my classes and I can’t do the extra weekends anymore. Regan’s too important. I think I’ve saved enough money to get her something nice. Now, I need to figure out what that something nice should be. It feels good to be able to work out in the morning again.
