Page 105 of Changing Lanes

Dropping my head back, I look up to the sky, praying for a single iota of restraint because now is not the fucking time.

Coming back to reality, I scan our site, noticing Cruz’s truck.

“If Cruz is in there, you should just call my dad now and tell him to meet me at county. Imma kill this motherfucker.”

Marc meets my stare and…laughs? Like doubles over, holding his stomach, guffaws. Meanwhile, my jaw ticks out a nice little countdown. Not like a common timer either, like a bomb.

3, 2, 1.

I shove past his shaking form to rip open the pathetic excuse of a door and there in my bed is what fantasies are made of. Well, if the two hot chicks weren’t passed out, drooling all over my fucking pillow. I always bring my own pillow. I like the amount of stuffing it has. It also makes for easier clean up if I wake up bloody, which has started back up again this week.

Paige’s friend beside her flips to her side revealing it is, in fact, Cynthia. She is cute—if you’re into mouth breathers. I’m more interested in the beautiful woman next to her though. Damn if she isn’t just as captivating sleeping as she is when she’s fired up, calling my ass out.

My chest releases some of the tension that’s been there since she left me cold and alone in my bed back home. I missed her.

I miss her.

Looking back to her slumbering friend, I frown. She’s in my spot. My alcohol fueled mentality tempts me with a chance at a fight if I wake them now. Paige would never let that shit fly.

I smile as my dick twitches at the hint of confrontation but before I can test my drunken theory, Marc grips my shoulder, pulling me back outside.

“They both got off graveyard shifts and drove straight here. Don’t be a dick. Let them sleep. You can have my tent to sleep off your own shit,” his hands wave at all of me, “and see her when you’re sober.”

“Who do you think you are? The voice of treason?”

With a roll of his eyes, dude just pushes me toward his uber glammed out tent. Not. Shit’s just like mine. I go willingly though since I need the privacy anyway and with my phone already in hand, I place the call I’ve been waiting all day to make now that the coast is clear. A little liquid courage helps and the plan gets set in motion just before I drift off on a pillow that’s not mine.

Man, I want my pillow back—with the girl currently occupying it still attached.

That’s the last thought I have as I pass out.

CHAPTER 25

Paige

Millions of floating bubbles fill the sky as the sun begins to set for the day, bringing a whimsical feel to the already dream-like festival.

Cynthia grabs my hand along with Angela’s and together we spin in circles enjoying the surreal moment. Arms spread wide, we whirl around faster and faster, only stopping to dance to the beat of the indie band on stage.

Cynthia’s hair is pulled tight into two buns with glitter caked on her middle part while Angela’s is braided down both sides with purple and pink strips mixed in to create an ombre effect. Mine hangs in loose waves around my confetti-covered cheekbones and hairline. We certainly look the part of carefree partiers even if we’re not. Today though, after using Beckett’s spacious tent to get ready in, we made a pact to shed all our worries, only if just for one night.

Cynthia fist pumps in the air Jersey-style making us lose it laughing amid the sea of other gyrating concert goers.

“I can’t wait until Beckett sees you!” Angela yells over the thumping bass and I smile. It should be interesting, that’s for sure.

Upon waking up—Cynthia also pulled an all-nighter at her new job—we hit up the carnival rides before returning to the designated campsite to get ready for the night festivities.

With Beckett still sleeping off his own good time apparently, we left the boys behind.

I tried talking Marc up to Cynthia the entire ride here but as soon as she caught sight of Cruz she forgot all about my reserved roommate. Then, as I introduced the two, Cruz treated me like he’d never met me, let alone stolen coveted toppings from my pizza just days prior. I’d been planning on pulling him aside anyway to tell him things weren’t going to go any further than our pitiful parking lot lunch but he saved me the trouble by redirecting his heart eyes to Cynthia. The guy moves fast—onward and upward, I guess. I just hope Cynthia can catch him if that’s what she wants. Or have a fun little fling for the night.

And I do mean little. His tent is so much smaller than he let on. It kind of makes me wonder if he has a habit of overcompensating when it comes to size.

Jesse’s tent had a hole in it so I wasn’t able to borrow his but Angela assured us there would be room for everyone. It should be funny to see Marc and Beckett flip a coin to see who gets to be the big spoon tonight. I can’t imagine Marc losing that one. Beckett may be bigger, but Marc a little spoon? No way.

“I’m starving. Let’s check out the food trucks.”

Cynthia nods like an overzealous bobblehead as Angela agrees easily and together we hop from truck-to-truck, trying out the different offerings, joking with each other the entire time. Angela’s witty sense of humor has Cynthia and me rolling in hysterics at a nearby picnic table when one of the bigger names takes the stage.