Page 123 of Changing Lanes

And secondly—no.

Paige may have missed the mark about being faster than me—puhlease—but she was right about one thing, shit did just get real. Really real. Too fucking real. No woman has ever reached into my empty chest to fill the cavity. It’s always been to take.

I need to get out of here.

Finding the apartment empty, I breathe a sigh of relief. No matter what happens between Paige and me, she can’t walk around naked again. That’s a hard line I’m drawing in the sand right fucking now. Girlfriend or not, her body is a temple that should be worshipped, not paraded around for any idiot to accidentally peep.

And now I’m picturing paying my respects all over again even though I just asked her for space.

Fresh air. I need fresh air, away from the reason my head is twisted up to begin with.

Immediately, my dirt bike springs to mind. Riding has always been the quickest way to clear my thoughts and tonight I need more than paved roads, timed lights, and safety precautions.

I scribble out a quick note that basically says all common areas are officially banned to people not wearing proper clothing and slip it under Paige’s door.

After a moment’s hesitation, I put one under Marc’s, too.

If there’s one thing I learned from our old neighbor it’s that feminism is exhausting.

But necessary.

Dude should cover up anyway. Nobody wants to see that eight pack, bro.

With that, I’m out the door and on my way to his dad’s farm.

* * *

My eyelids fluttering like a butterfly in a wind tunnel, I can’t make out a single thing. Just bright. Very bright.

Jesus fuck. I was just riding my dirt bike and now…

“What is this?” I try to say but only garbled nonsense comes out. What the hell?

A sharp inhale somewhere nearby has me straining to see against the constant flurry of lashes until a form finally comes into view.

Who is…

Blonde. Long blonde hair. With what appears to be a motherfucking halo on top. But no, that can’t be. She’d have horns.

I pause, letting my eyes rest for a bit, then try again, squinting with my heart beating out of my chest.

She’s younger than I thought she’d be. Like a lot younger. Like my age maybe. And she doesn’t look anything like I remember her.

Is this for real? Is she?

Am I? What’s going on?

Am I dreaming?

My throat croaks again and she takes a hesitant step forward, the shine on her head dimming to show a much darker shade of blonde than I thought she’d have.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll be alright.” The voice is all wrong though. Unfamiliar.

And just like the last time I heard that, I bristle. Worst famous last words ever.

Another feminine voice from close by that sounds slightly more familiar says, “Oh, she’ll make sure of it. I just called and she’s on her way.”

What?