Page 81 of Changing Lanes

I laugh quietly. “Anytime you want that rematch, dude, I’m ready.”

“For the master again?”

I raise one shoulder, leaning further back in my chair to put an arm over the backrest.

When we first moved into Creekwood, the three of us raced our bikes for the master bedroom. Marc managed to pull off a W and still has it in his head he’s actually faster than me and Coty. If we were talking dirt bikes, that’d be a different story. But since everyone knows Coty’s the looker of the three, and I’m obviously the entertainer, well, I’d like to think we kinda let Marc have that one to give him something. If he wants to hold that title above his head for all time, fine, but I’d just like to get one thing straight—I’m not slow. And if I wanted to take that master bedroom, I’d steal it right out from under him. Or die trying, which we almost did the first time around.

“Don’t you think Paige and I are better off racing for it then?” His gaze lingers on the property he had set aside for me.

And what? I’m supposed to just move out, leaving Paige and Marc to live together in happily ever after bliss?

Something fills me to the absolute brim imagining that scenario. Something fucky.

Movement at that exact moment catches my eye and I turn to witness four dudes I don’t know walking up the loose gravel driveway. Paige’s back is to them but they’re all walking right for her. One is holding a present for fuck’s sake and after further inspection I realize it’s the same one that I caught Paige in the hallway with her first week living with us. Dude was all over her and they were saying something that sounded like they were close. Too close.

What is going on here?

Rising out of my seat, Angela puts her hand up to stop me and I swear I’m about to cuss my boy’s girlfriend out when Paige’s squealing has me swinging my gaze back to her and the intruders in time to see her launch herself into the shortest one’s arms before he passes her off to the others. By the time she’s put back on her feet she’s full-on sobbing.

I start forward again but Marc stands up this time, blocking my path.

“The fuck, man?” There may even be spittle flying out of my mouth when I say it. It’s been a long day and I’m in the dark right now—a place I’ve already spent too much time in. I’ll come out swinging if I have to. Screw anyone in my way, family included. “Who are all these douchebags? And why are they here?”

I narrow my eyes on Angie but it’s Marc that answers, saying, “I invited them.”

“You did?”

Everyone turns to Paige who’s looking at Marc in complete awe. Um, excuse me, but I brought this chick to orgasm at least twice today. Twice. And right now she’s looking at Marc like the dude holds the goddamn moon or something.

Without warning, she throws herself into his arms and hugs him tight with the gloomy as fuck foursome waiting just behind her.

The muscular one jerks his chin at Marc over Paige’s head and they tap knuckles.

And what in the unholy fuck is happening right now?

The one holding the gift glares at me and nods at the shortest one in the bunch making him turn his unfriendly stare on me, too.

I return both of their scowls with one of my own though. Fuck him. Fuck them all.

I take my eyes off her for two minutes and the vultures descend.

The fourth seems somewhat aloof and keeps checking his phone every few seconds between his gauging glances at Paige.

I stand a little taller which isn’t hard since none of these assholes come close to my stature.

Paige finally releases Marc with a thank you then disappears into her newfound guy squad. Seriously?

My face is hot and I want to punch something. Or someone.

Make that multiple someones.

“Dude, chill.”

“Fuck you,” I spit back at Marc before checking around the group. Coty’s watching the man-sandwich happening in his front lawn while Angie’s eyes are leaking something that looks a hell of a lot like tears. The fuck?

“Am I missing something? Why would you invite them?” I jerk my thumb at the boyband littering the yard, taking turns fawning over Paige and her sliced up forehead, which is healing up nicely thanks to me—fuck you very much. NBD.

My back teeth grind together until I’m positive I’ll be spitting dust when I leave.