Page 72 of Changing Lanes

But with my face in the shape it is, that’s almost impossible. Usually on Fridays they have their old roommate over for family dinner along with a party to follow but tonight’s been quiet. Something tells me they called off the company knowing I wasn’t up for being on display. Or maybe they’re going out later and don’t want to tell me. Either way I appreciate not having an audience. Tickets to this downfall aren’t free.

Going out.

I’d rather floss each one of my molars with my own hair than be around any more strangers today but maybe I can still visit with a friend. One that’s already seen me in all my shredded face glory. One that’ll provide me and Beckett that nice, friendly little buffer.

“Thanks for today. I really appreciate you keeping me busy.”

Raising onto my tiptoes, I kiss his cheek gently and am treated to his labored exhale. Just as he begins pressing into my lips, I turn away and flee the kitchen while I still can.

His sigh barrels into my back just before I close my bedroom door and I lean against it once I’m on the other side.

I’m not the only one feeling it.

With that thought, I go in search of my phone. Last night was Cynthia’s last shift at Sunbrook and I missed it. I wanted to show up with a cake and balloons and a bucket of tears because I’m going to miss my friend but I couldn’t. Plans changed and now I’m forced to swallow my self-pity along with the rest of the shit life keeps shoveling down my throat. Yum.

Luckily, she answers on the first ring, immediately asking how I am.

“I’m fine. Trust me. My brothers left worse scratches than this.”

Nick for sure had the worst habit of digging his nails into me during fights. I still have five full crescent-shaped scars on the back of my shoulder from him. I think I pulled out a solid handful of his hair during that round though. That was before he started getting girlfriends in high school and realized his energy was best used elsewhere. Suddenly picking fights with his little sister wasn’t as appealing. Mocking me, cupping farts in my face, and generally being an ass, that was still in effect but not so much full-on wrestling matches. That’s also around the time I started getting boobs and I think he was freaked out by that. They all were.

For men allegedly being so brave, they sure get scared of something as prevalent as change a lot.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything? Gauze, rubbing alcohol, hard alcohol?”

We both laugh.

“Actually, yeah. I thought we could celebrate your last day together. Or at least the fact that you got a new job.” Finally, something worth celebrating for a change. I’d almost forgotten what that was like.

“What do you have in mind?”

The floor outside my door creaks as I hear footsteps but I can’t tell if they veer toward Beckett’s side of the hall or not.

“Would you want to come over here? You can even stay the night.”

She’ll be my first official house guest and Beckett can’t even object since neither of us has a cock to block.

“Ooh, yes. I want to meet those roommates of yours. You can’t keep them all to yourself.”

“Uh.” I hesitate, not sure where to take this. I don’t want to keep them to myself. “Marc’s crazy hot.”

There. My supportive, wing-womanly endorsement and it didn’t even hurt. Not one tiny bit.

Maturity never felt so good.

“But he’s definitely not mine to keep.”

“And the other one?”

“Beckett?”

What do I say here? And how do I say it without giving her the wrong…impression. While Beckett isn’t mine either that doesn’t mean I want Cynthia trying to shoot her shot with him. Cynthia’s gorgeous and smart and caring but she also measures in at a whopping five foot two and setting her up with someone Beckett’s size would just be cruel. To her, of course. I’m only looking out for her here.

“He’s okay, I guess,” I mumble in a rush of words even I can barely make out.

Another creak from the hallway like someone’s passing through from the bathroom maybe.

“Alright, I see how it is.” She laughs like she doesn’t quite believe that.