Page 118 of Changing Lanes

The now familiar hand stroking my thigh under the table rubs away the uncertainty I’ve been wrestling with all morning and I know our story doesn’t hold the same fate. I don’t know what will happen tonight or tomorrow or a month from now but we already tried the avoidance path. It was painstakingly long and tedious and took a lot more energy than I have to spare.

Unfortunately, a relationship of any kind with me will be chockfull of scarce interactions laced with even less communication. A guy like Beckett, the life of every party, will not remain patient for a girl that isn’t even around, let alone attempt the faithful route for her.

Looking at him now though, completely at ease with his affections for me on full display, he makes a pretty convincing argument for what could be.

Someday.

* * *

The drive home should’ve been an hour and a half tops. Beckett stretched it to an even three hours. He insisted on stopping at every rest stop, fruit stand, and general tourist trap along the way. It was when he pulled over at a little free library for a selfie that I figured Beckett was stalling. I just don’t know why.

Finally back at the apartment, before I even have a chance to drop my bag, Beckett grabs my hand excitedly to tug me along behind him.

“Come on. I got something I want to show you.”

“Was this all really just so you could show me your dick again?”

Beckett’s laugh echoes off the walls as I trail after him down the hall and at my room he stops to peer in before dragging me through the door I know I left closed but is now wide open.

Complete darkness meets us.

“No, but I’d like to revisit that offer.”

I blindly shove his arm since I can’t see a thing.

“It wasn’t an offer.”

“Agree to disagree.” I can practically hear his smile. “Seriously though, this isn’t about me.” The light flicks on, illuminating my room—or at least I think it’s mine—and he says, “This is all for you.”

My gasp cuts the silence before my hand can cover my mouth.

“Did you do this?” I look to Beckett, whose hands are twisting in front of his torso and he nods shyly.

So, this is why he was acting so different.

“How? When? It wasn’t like this yesterday.”

He walks further into my new and improved room and spins to face me with his hands spread wide.

“I’ve been working on getting some stuff put together all week but had to call in some reinforcements to get it just right. Thanks to your brothers, everything came together last night.”

I blink at him before scanning the wall over his head. It’s covered in pictures. Photos of me with my brothers, old family photos with my parents, and even one of me…sleeping? Right in the middle of the collage is a large black and white close-up of me in what looks like Beckett’s bed.

My eyes fly to his.

“I took that one while you were asleep last weekend.” His voice is velvety smooth with a snag at the end. “You looked-”

“Happy,” I finish. And it’s true. Snuggled between his soft sheets on his massive bed surrounded by his sweet woodsy scent, I do look happy, peaceful, like there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

He asked me recently if I was happy living here. In this one photograph, he was able to capture what I wouldn’t voice. What I couldn’t even allow myself to recognize. Until now.

“And the others? How did you get those?”

“I asked Tysen and he gave me what he could find. Thank God for the cloud.” His chuckle fills the room and I lean into it. Into him.

“Wait, what do you mean you asked him? Since when do you talk to my brother?”

“I asked him not to tell you yet, but Tysen works at Pop The Hood now. Dude started a few days ago. When I told him what I wanted to do, he was happy to help and thankfully he got the rest of your brothers on board, too, because I wouldn’t have been able to pull this off without them. After all that shit came out,” my eyes drop to the floor, “I think they just wanted to make you feel comfortable. Cared for.” His tone drops a few decibels. “They wanted you to know you’re loved. To feel it no matter what.”