Page 104 of Changing Lanes

CHAPTER 24

Beckett

“I love this place,” Coty says while stretching, taking in the morning light over the river, the song “Tired Of You” by Foo Fighters is playing from the Bluetooth speaker I brought along.

We arrived last night and slept like shit, or maybe that’s just me. Whatever. These glamorous tents are an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one and they’re definitely not all they’re cracked up to be. Glamping is exactly like camping but with more space, not amenities, save for the one outlet each tent gets. Yip-fucking-ee.

Thankfully we had the foresight to reserve theses tents though because they have actual beds instead of the cots provided down the hill from our site. I’d rather sleep in my Tahoe than on a fucking cot. The thick canvas walls are not soundproof by any means and Coty and Angie proved that last night. Multiple times. Goddamn, I don’t miss that part of having him as a roommate.

It didn’t help that my tent was as dead as an abandoned cemetery all night. There are plenty of chicks around this place, it’s almost too easy, but none that have caught my eye. Not that they could anyway with Paige on her way today.

“Dude, she’ll be here. Looking at your watch isn’t gonna make her appear any faster.”

“Oh, would you look at that? It’s half past fuck you.” I flip Coty the bird then quickly dodge the roll of paper towels he throws at me. I’m not picking that shit up either. Let one of these earth-loving freaks chew his ass out for littering, see how well that goes over.

Yeah, okay, I was checking the time—again. But I can’t text Paige to see when she’ll get here or she’ll end up taking a detour just to spite me. Chick lives to stick it to me. And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind sticking it to her again, too.

I groan, sick of thinking dirty thoughts about the girl I already had in my arms less than a week ago. Why wasn’t it enough to perform all those naughty things on Paige once and for all?

Because, like Angie so snarkily pointed out, Paige is different. No, not just Paige. Me. I’m different. Sleeping with her that night should’ve ended this…infatuation, but it hasn’t. Not in the slightest. If anything, it’s intensified—tenfold.

Maybe, just maybe, we can find some time this weekend to explore our options. Like which days of the week I can sneak home for a quickie. That’s always an option, right?

Fuck, I’m not good with this shit. I’m not cut out for the domestic life either. And that’s not to say Paige would even want that. Would she?

Coty doesn’t make it look half bad but he’s got a life partner in all this. Angela’s his equal, even if she doesn’t believe it yet. Her mom cast her away like Tom Hanks in that movie. But what Angie fails to realize is Coty’s not that pathetic volleyball placating her loneliness until the next flimsy wave whisks him away for good, he’s the fucking island built to withstand the fiercest of storms. His love will outlast the harshest conditions in the support he provides her.

I’m not that. I don’t think I could ever be that. Not for Paige. Not for anyone.

I’m the palm tree that provides temporary relief when things get unbearable. But when the clouds come rolling in, what good am I? What can I really offer anyone when I’m weathering storms of my own?

Fuck.

Sitting here isn’t doing me any good and if I don’t find something to eat now, I’ll pounce on Paige as soon as she shows—whenever the fuck that is—because ever since that little face-off at the shop, I’ve been hankering for more of what I feasted on just last weekend.

* * *

A few hours later, I’m trashed out of my mind and ready to fuck or fight, both if I can find Paige—hopefully.

Marc sees me coming from across our glampsite—seriously, that’s what it’s called—and smirks. Dude’s just sitting in front of a nice little spread of dirt like it’s a roaring campfire. Open flames aren’t allowed with how dry it gets out here so a dirt pit it is. But why is he here by himself when everybody else is out mingling, having fun? And why is he looking at me like he knows something I don’t?

Oh, shit.

“Is she here?” I slur.

With a nod of his head he gestures to my tent. My hands immediately start rubbing together in anticipation. Hell yeah. She knew where she was sleeping tonight and I didn’t even have to fight to get her there.

Unfortunately, as soon as I move for the tent, my fucking tent, Marc holds up his hand to stop me.

What now?

“She’s sleeping.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I mock. Like I give a shit. I wasn’t gonna wake her. I mean, I wasn’t gonna try to wake her.

“No man, she’s…” He chances a look around, fully freaking me the fuck out. “She’s not alone.”

Oh hell no.