Page 75 of Changing Lanes

Before I can move another muscle, her eyes open and meet mine with a wariness I wasn’t expecting. She did come to me, right? Like, I didn’t bring her in here. Did I?

Damn, I’m more fucked than I thought.

“Hi,” she squeaks, which is so unlike her, the sound makes me smirk.

“Hey.” My smile grows, despite all the emotions fighting for purchase. “Should we label our doors from now on? I thought the splinters sticking out of mine were a dead giveaway but maybe J.D. doesn’t care about that sort of thing.”

She frowns. “J.D.?”

“Jack Daniel’s. Did he lead you to the wrong room again?”

Her eyes search mine before they’re closed and she hums, literally hums, as she exhales through her nose. My eyes gloss over her face, assessing her scratches. They’re better but not by much. She needs more ointment but I’m not moving from here anytime soon. If heaven on earth was a thing, this moment right now might give it a run for its money.

“Jose.”

“Excuse me?” Come fucking again.

She opens her eyes again, this time with humor lining them.

“Not Jack. Jose.”

Ah.

That’s why I always mix my liquor so blindly. The more players, the less likely you are to remember who exactly fucked you up.

Like I could ever forget.

“I thought maybe Jose was the nippledick you had over last night.” No clue how big his dick is but if Paige left him to come in here for nothing more than a snuggle sesh, it’s gotta be nipple-sized. Just sayin’.

The side of her lips quirks and she presses further into my shoulder, trying to hide it but I stop her with my hand on her exposed side, wanting to see. I want to see everything on her.

“That’d be Cynthia. My friend. A woman.” She emphasizes the last word like that clears everything up. Like two women haven’t hooked up before. And this is one of those oh so rare moments where I’m hoping they didn’t.

Living in apartments makes it hard to tell whose car belongs to who around here but there was one parked outside last night when I got home that I’ve never seen before and I’d like to never see again, even if it does belong to a straight, platonic-as-all-hell, woman. Because it’ll only remind me of what it felt like arriving home to see it there to begin with. Like I wasn’t good enough. Like betrayal.

She notices my lack of relief and scrunches her eyebrows, asking, “When did you find out? Before or after?”

If I knew she was having someone over before or after I took off. Fuck. She’s calling me on my bullshit and I don’t have a good answer for her. How can I explain why I rushed out last night? I wanted to play with her a bit in the kitchen when she seemed off. Dinner was fucking fine, until it wasn’t. She just changed all of a sudden, going from relaxed and talkative to uptight and quiet, and I didn’t like it. I hated it. I thought we would tease each other like we’d been doing but then it all got away from me when she shut me down with absolutely fuck all reasoning then ran. I overheard her on the phone and assumed she was choosing to be around someone else.

I thought she chose them over me. Him. I thought she chose him over me.

And just like that, a wound I never bothered to treat like I’ve been treating hers opened up. I wrapped it with a half ass tourniquet of denial and left before she could see it bleed out.

I drop my voice, hoping it covers the obvious, to say, “I had a race.”

“Before or after?”

She leans back now, furrowing her eyebrows over those blazing emerald beauties.

Her eyes never cease to amaze me. Their brilliant color alone stands out in a crowd but it’s what’s in them that slays me. Every fucking time. Paige holds so much in just a look and I wouldn’t be surprised if lesser men crumble from the intensity. She could easily be a dream or a nightmare, but I already have plenty of the latter, so I try with the truth and see where it gets me.

“Before.”

The truth is I would’ve done anything she asked last night. I would’ve touched her more than the few playful times I dared to in the shop, if she let me. Hell, I would’ve done a lot more than that. She has too much of the power that’s slipping through my grasp every turn I take. I can’t figure out how or why I react to her the way I do. Why she can be in my bed right now and my heart is as steady as it was before I woke up. How does she make me want things I’ve never wanted with anyone?

I wanted her last night. I wanted all of her. I want all of her. And that right there is why I ran like a fucking pussy.

If I want something, someone, and they don’t choose me back, how am I supposed to handle that? I’ve been struggling with that very problem for more than half my life and I still don’t know. I don’t have a motherfucking clue.