Open Lanes

by Mary Morano

  “Huh? Oh yeah. I’m good. I’ll see if this TV works or something. I can hop in when you're done.” He nods, heading into the bathroom. When I hear the water start running my thoughts turn to him in the shower, naked, wet, soaping himself up… GAH! What is wrong with me? I’ve known him all my life, and never had this problem. Sure, I always knew he was good looking, but it’s like being stuck with him has my hormones running on overdrive. Then he had to go and whisper those words into my ear yesterday, while his hot breath fanned over my neck. Goosebumps line my body just thinking about it. The ache between my legs intensifies to an almost uncomfortable level. I curse when I hear the water shut off, knowing he’s now standing just feet away drying his wet naked body off with a towel. This is going to be a long night if I don’t do something about this soon. I have no problem taking care of myself, but do I want to go in the shower and finger myself to thoughts of him, while he is sitting mere feet away? I’m not sure I have the option not to at this point. Not if I want to make it through the night without jumping his bones in my sleep.

  Minutes later, he opens the door to the bathroom, stepping into the room with a cloud of steam exiting behind him. My decision is instantly made. I try not to stare, but my eyes have a mind of their own as they blaze a trail up from his bare feet to his strong legs. He’s wearing a pair of navy basketball shorts that do little to hide the bulge underneath, my mouth waters and my mind runs wild at the size of it. I know he’s a big guy, but damn, that’s an impressive bulge. Continuing their journey upward, I see he’s wearing no shirt, his V fully visible. My eyes walk his abs like a ladder to his toned chest, and strong arms that I want wrapped around me again. I start trailing back down his body again when his voice snaps me out of my daze.

  “Couldn’t find anything to watch on TV?” My eyes instantly snap to his face, which is sporting a knowing smirk. With the heat burning my skin, I can almost guarantee my face is bright red, he definitely caught me drooling over his body. In all fairness, it’s a really nice body. Like really, really, really nice. I shake my head to clear the thoughts before scowling at him. Pushing past him, I grab my pajamas and shower stuff, then lock myself in the bathroom.

  Once inside, I lean back against the door, before remembering that I really don’t want to touch anything in this place if I don’t have to and straighten up. Letting the water heat up, I set my phone on the edge of the sink, choosing a playlist, in hopes it will drown out any noises I may be making in the shower.

  Once I finally undress and step in, the hot water falls over my body, allowing it to relax some muscles that have grown stiff from sitting in the car for such a long period of time. My hand slides down my body, finding its way between my legs, and I picture Brayden’s body when he walked out of the bathroom. His skin still damp from his own shower, his muscles tense as he walks toward me. My hand slips lower and begins circling my clit, as he comes closer, dipping his hand into his shorts drawing my attention to what he’s hiding inside. I watch as he glides one hand up and down his length, that is still hidden from my sight by his shorts. His other hand rubbing up and down his chest and those fabulous abs. His smirk is now a promise of things to come. My hand shifts, allowing my fingers to slide inside me, while the heel of my palm rubs along my clit. My left hand glides up my stomach to my breasts, pinching and pulling at my nipples. My heartbeat increases as I grind against my palm, searching for my own release. In my mind, his eyes work their way up and down my body, his hand still slowly rubbing up and down his dick making sure to squeeze at the bottom, and twist at the top. I bite my top teeth into my bottom lip to try and stifle my groans of pleasure. He walks closer to me not stopping until I can feel his breath against my ear again. His other hand now trailing down my stomach to feel my heat. His sex-dripped voice whispers, “Come for me,” and it’s all over. Light bursts from the darkness behind my closed eyes, every muscle in my body tightens and releases at once, as waves of pleasure and relaxation flood my body starting in my center and working their way out. My toes curl, my free hand grips my left breast so tight, I swear there will be nail marks, and despite my best effort a long low groan slips out. Barely able to catch my breath, I lean back against the cold tile of the shower. Damn. That was intense. I stand there, leaning up against the dirty wall for another minute or two, not even caring about how disgusting it probably is, before I’m able to lock my still shaky legs and finish showering.

  Stepping out, I dry myself off, before realizing the music is no longer playing because my phone is dead. Panic invades my body as I think about what he could have heard. I definitely wasn’t quiet, despite my best efforts. I try to remind myself that it’s unlikely he heard anything over the sound of the shower. Even if he did, it’s unlikely he would assume I was doing what I was doing. At least I hope not. I’ll just play it cool. Act like there is nothing to worry about.

  I take a few minutes to brush my teeth and apply some night cream to my face before I step out of the bathroom in my plaid pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt depicting the mascot from our high school days. He’s laying on his bed, watching TV, he looks over at me quickly before turning his head back to the TV. I think I see a hint of a red blush, but maybe it’s just my imagination running wild again. Play it cool, Nicole. Nothing happened, I remind myself. Settling into my bed, I cuddle up inside my comforter, propping the pillow up against the headboard so I can watch TV with him. I smile when I realize he’s watching a documentary on Ted Bundy.

  “Interesting choice of bedtime television.”

  “Well, I know someone who is obsessed with these things. So, when I saw it on the guide, I figured why not?” He looks over and winks at me before turning his eyes back to the show. With a big dumb grin on my face, I watch along until I fall asleep.

  The next morning, I wake with a start at the sound of a loud bang and a muttered curse coming from the bathroom. I look around, barely able to see because the blinds are pulled tightly closed and the lights are still off. On top of his bed, I see only the outline of Brayden’s open suitcase. I figure it’s safe to assume that he is in the bathroom and the source of the noise.

  Laying back down, I take a minute to think through all I learned yesterday, now that a little time has passed. My small-dicked ex apparently felt so threatened by Brayden, he took it upon himself to block his number from my phone. Even though I had no idea, I still feel bad about that. Also, I’m beginning to realize just how much time I wasted with that fruitcake. At least now, he’s someone else’s problem. I wonder if there is anything else, I didn’t know? He better hope not or that jerk won’t know what hit him the next time I see him.

  Putting him aside, there is Brayden. I don’t know what to think about him. He basically made me a social pariah all through my junior high and high school years. Anytime I had a boyfriend, he would threaten them, or start rumors until they would break up with me. He tormented me with his comments and jokes. I may never have let him know how much they hurt me, but they did. He was downright cruel sometimes. I tried to keep a smile on my face and act like his shit didn’t bother me, but I can’t tell you how many times I escaped to the bathroom or fell asleep crying because of him. Now I find out that when we left for college, that he suddenly felt the need to check in on me? To make sure I was okay? Invite me to do things with him? I don’t get it. But I do give him credit that he stayed persistent even when I never responded to him. Also, why did he want me to drive home with him, rather than one of his hockey buddies? And when I never answered why was he going to drive home alone, rather than taking someone else? None of this makes sense. It’s like he is a totally different person than the guy I knew growing up. These last two days with him were fun, and mostly easy-going. We seem to have slipped into a friendship. But can we really just let the past go that easily? And what is it that he really wants out of this? Why now?

  Before I can really come to any conclusion regarding Brayden, another bang sounds out from the bathroom, and he practically falls out of the door, landing
on the edge of my bed. He turns to look at me with a gigantic child-like grin on his face.

  “Oh, you’re up. Hope I didn’t wake you with all the noise, the bathroom is a little small.”

  “Sure, if you’re a giant, it is.” I tell him with a laugh before getting out of bed to start getting ready. The sooner we get out of this place, the better.

  Knowing the plans for today include two of the weird stops he chose as well as a lot of driving, I decide to dress for comfort. I grab a pair of black yoga pants, my Chucks, and a shirt that says, ‘I’m not arguing, I’m simply explaining why I’m right,’ before heading in to take a quick shower.

  I try not to focus on last night's shower, quickly washing and rinsing before getting out, then drying off. My hair goes up in a messy bun and since no makeup is needed, I’m ready in less than fifteen minutes.

  When I come back into the main room, all our stuff is by the door, the desk has been moved back, and he’s checking under beds and in drawers to make sure we didn’t leave anything. Popping his head up after checking the last drawer, he takes one look at my shirt and starts howling in laughter.

  “What?” I ask with my hand on my hip and an attitude in my voice.

  “Nothing. It’s just that shirt is very you.” He says while trying to hide the fact he’s still laughing at me.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” My attitude is getting stronger by the minute.

  “Just that you always were a know-it-all. Even as a kid, you could never let someone else be right. You would argue the point until they gave up just so you would shut up and stop harassing them.” He smothers another laugh at the frown forming on my face. “Remember the time that you chased Chris down the block because he wouldn’t admit you were right?”

  He’s laughing so hard now that he is leaning over, and tears are streaming down his face. It wasn’t that funny. Chris was one of the kids who lived on our block growing up. He was a year older than us, and he thought that meant he was always in charge of everything. I disagreed. I don’t remember what we were even arguing about that day, since we argued about pretty much everything. All I remember is arguing with him for so long that he started to walk away, and I followed. When that didn’t work, he got on his bike to ride home, I ran up the block behind him while listing all the reasons that whatever he had said was wrong. Okay, so maybe it was funny, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. With a muttered “Whatever,” and a final glare in his direction, I grab my bags and head out to the car, knowing he will follow.

  Unwilling to hang out in the parking lot of this place, we settle into the car and open all the windows, hoping the overpowering stench of hockey player musk airs out quickly. Stopping at the first drive-thru we see we pull into order coffee and breakfast. The girl in the window makes a face as the scent hits her, and I want to raise my hand in solidarity. I feel you girl. It’s no picnic in here either.

  Once we have our morning caffeine fix in hand, I set the GPS for our first stop, and turn on the music. Rihanna’s voice echoes through the car as we sing along to her song ‘Umbrella.’ Our first stop isn’t far from the hotel we stayed at last night, so we are barely done with our coffee before we are pulling off the highway and following signs to Kelder Farm in Kerhonkson, New York.

  As we pull up, I see that on the front lawn of their farm stands a gigantic garden gnome. The very same 13.5-foot garden gnome that we are here to see, one that I would later learn is previously the largest one in the world. Unfortunately, he has been knocked out of that great honor by an 18-foot one who resides in Poland. The more you know, right? When it comes to our turn, because yes, there is a wait, we sit on the gnomes black pointed shoes and lean up against his red pants to take a few obligatory pictures to post.

  After that’s done, we walk around and look at all the fruits and veggies they are growing in the fields. Brayden manages to take an amazing picture of me with a bright yellow sunflower that is bigger than my head. He holds up his phone to show it to me, and I have to ask, “What filter did you use? That looks amazing!”

  In the picture, the sky is bright blue behind me, with not a cloud in sight. My shoulder length chestnut hair is pin-straight, the top pulled back into two braids, my eyes look like melted chocolate. My skin looks flawless. It looks like a picture that you would see in a magazine. I’m changing every profile picture to this from now until forever.

  I look up at him, realizing he never answered my question. His head is tilted to the side, eyes scrunched together as he stares at me in confusion.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? I just need to know what filter you used. I want all my pictures to look like this!” I turn the face of his phone around and push it toward him so he can see it again.

  “There is no filter on that Nic. That’s what you always look like.” I snort out a laugh and roll my eyes.

  “I never look this good! This is like model-good.”

  “Nicole, you are more beautiful than any model that has ever walked the Earth.” He says before grabbing his phone and turning to walk toward the farm stand, leaving me staring after him in disbelief.

  When I finally get my head together and catch up to him, I find him picking up fruit and pies in the farm store. I roll my eyes and wander up next to him.

  “You know those pies are twenty-five dollars each right?”

  He startles at my sudden appearance and almost drops a caramel apple but manages to recover it at the last second. He looks down at the five pies in his hand then up at the sign on the wall listing the prices, before looking back at the pies. With a few mumbled words he makes his way back over to the stand and puts all but one back down.

  Holding an apple crumble one up for me, he says, “Snack for the car.” Then heads up to register to pay. I pick up a few apples, and add them to his purchase, as well. Once we finish in the store, we walk back to the car to store our snacks, before we go to see the farm animals. They have the usual petting zoo animals walking around and offer the option to hand feed them, which we both pass on.

  Just as we are heading to the car, he points out a small mini golf course, and challenges me to a game. He may be good at Donkey Kong, but he is going down in mini golf. I spent way too many summer nights playing this game to lose to him.

  Five holes later, and I am seeing now how close hockey and golf can be. He hasn’t missed a single shot. Five holes and five hole-in-ones. It’s absolutely ridiculous! I’m so worked up that I swing the golf club too hard and instead of the ball going up the ramp and coming out by the hole, it hits off the metal side, and flies back at me, at twice the speed. I throw the club and duck underneath my arms as it nearly decapitates me when it flies by before landing in the pond next to us. I stand up and glare at the ripple left by the ball, then at the club, which landed a few feet away, and then at the stupid metal ramp. Stupid mini golf. Stupid hockey players.

  “Game over!” I shout over my shoulder as I pick up the club and stomp off to return it to the window. I hear him laughing behind me and it takes everything in me not to turn around and curse him out in front of all these families with young children. I stomp over to the club return, then continue to stomp all the way to the car, grateful that we left the windows rolled down, so I can sit my butt right into the passenger seat and sulk. He follows behind me a few minutes later and gets into the car with a huge smile on his face. Stupid boys.

  Ignoring him, I lean forward and set the GPS to our next destination, which is apparently a shoe house in Pennsylvania, like the nursery rhyme, I think. Odd choice, but I guess it’s not different from the giant garden gnome or a tower of cabinets, which I’m beginning to think was exactly what it sounds like. It’s weird. This is not what I expected from a road trip with Brayden. I would’ve thought we would be stopping at clubs, ice rinks, or even Hall of Fames. Definitely not this. Before my mind starts down the loop of what-ifs again, I pull out my phone and decide to have a little fun with Jess.

  Me: I saw Brayden in just basketball
shorts last night.

  I laugh when she immediately responds, gaining a sideways glance from my lovely chauffeur which I ignore because I’m still mad at him.

  Jess: AND??????

  Jess: Details! I need details! Basketball shorts are even better than gray sweatpants sometimes!

  I laugh again because how can you not?

  Me: I’m sorry to tell you the rumors are not true.

  I’m still laughing, now at the look of disappointment that I’m sure she is sporting at the moment. My phone buzzes in my hand again with a message from her, but before I can check it Brayden asks, “What are you laughing at?”

  I look over at him and see that his eyes are ping-ponging between the road and my phone. “Eyes on the road, Pong.”

  His eyes crinkle with a smile at my use of his nickname but they focus back onto the road. “So… who are you laughing at like that?”

  “Jess.” He glances over at me again with a confused look on his face. “My roommate.”

  “Hmm… I think I’ve seen her before with you. She’s the small blonde with streaks of colors in her hair that looks like she could use a few good steak dinners, right?”

  “Brayden!” I chastise him, while whacking him in the stomach with my arm. He doesn’t even acknowledge the action except to glance down as if he’s looking to see where I hit him. Meanwhile, I think his abs bruised my arm. Stupid sexy abs. “But yes, that’s her. I think she just has a ridiculously high metabolism because that girl eats nonstop.”

  “If you say so. I like my girls with some curves on them.” He says as I feel his eyes quickly sweep down my body, lighting it on fire. This is so bad. Time to change the topic.

  “Yeah, well, she wanted to know if the rumors about your dick size are true.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. Crap! I said change topic, mouth, not talk about his dick!

  “There is so much to unpack in that statement.” He says while choking on a laugh. “First, there are rumors about my dick size? Do I want to know what they say?”