Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  My heart thumps against my chest and a layer of sweat breaks out across my skin. You would think this would help to lubricate the situation, but the dress doesn’t budge. It is a twisted tourniquet squeezing tighter and tighter, forcing me into submission

  “Stella?” I hear Lane call out from my doorway.

  “Yes?” My voice is muffled by the stupid dress pressed against my face as I twist and shove my arm through an opening. Suddenly, my brain remembers that he always asks before entering my bedroom. And I just gave him permission. “Wait! Stop!” I yell.

  It’s too late. I hear his gasp and force my arms down in an attempt to hide something, anything. The purple people strangler is now twisted into a tight roll around my upper arms and neck. With my vision back, I can see that Lane has turned his back, the bag of ice dangling from his hand.

  “I didn’t see anything,” he says. “That I haven’t seen before.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  I grab a towel and wrap it around my body and the torture device dress.

  “Are you an exhibitionist, Stella?” he asks with a chuckle. “Because, I’ve got to say, I have seen more of you than some of the girls I’ve slept with. Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he trails off and I hear a deep sigh come from his lips. “Is there some sort of secret life you’re not telling me about?”

  I laugh, knowing my secret life is a bore compared to what he’s suggesting. “Yes, it’s a renegade tour. There are contortionists, drag queens, guys who make shadow puppets with their junk, and me. I like to travel from city to city revealing my boobs to those I find worthy.”

  Lane turns his head—just enough so that I can see the curl of his lips and a dimple hidden in the scruff of his cheek. “I guess I’m lucky I’m worthy.”

  “And I’m lucky I wore panties, or your show would have been X-rated instead of R.”

  There’s a long silent pause and the dress is starting to cut off my circulation. “Are you okay? Do you need,” he pauses and exhales. “Help?”

  “I think it’s best if you just leave the ice and go.”

  “Are you sure? I can—”

  “I swear to Jesus, Mary and J-Lo, I will cut myself out of this dress before enduring any more humiliation today.”

  Lane holds up his hands in surrender and lays the bag of ice on my bed. “Goodnight, Stella. And for the record, you’ve got nothing to be humiliated about.”

  I listen as he makes his way downstairs and out the front door and then I start the one-legged hunt for my scissors.

  7

  IT’S A LAZY Sunday afternoon and I am content to sit on my dock, curled up with a good book. I have a flannel blanket across my lap and my legs stretched out across the comfortable outdoor chaise lounge. My bruised ankle is feeling much better, but I still want to get as much rest as possible.

  Right when I get to the good scene of Edward seducing Vivian into a ride on his boat—that’s not even a euphemism, it’s actually a boat—I hear a click-clack rhythm on the wood planks. I mark my page and fold the book closed, looking up to find Chap trotting down my dock. A smile takes over my face as he approaches. There’s just something about that little cutie that brings me instant joy.

  Chap walks up to my chair and sits, seeming to stare up with a smile.

  “What are you doing out here, huh?” I ask, scratching under his chin. I look back at Lane’s house and see no sign of my neighbor. “You want up?”

  I pat my lap and Chap happily jumps up, sprawling himself across my legs. He’s a lot heavier than I thought he’d be, the dense little furball. He lays his head on my stomach, his body supplying even more warmth on this chilly day. I really couldn’t be happier. Opening my book, I continue reading, pausing every few minutes to give Chap a scratch and make sure he stays put. Though by the level of loafing he’s doing, I doubt he’d go anywhere anytime soon.

  Chap and I sit out there for a couple of hours. When I finish the book, I fold it closed with a sigh and set it down on the dock. I lay back and close my eyes, imagining a world where men like Edward exist—men who treat women with respect and completely give themselves over to the opportunities of love.

  A yawn escapes and then a grin pulls at my lips as I imagine myself in Edward and Vivian’s story, sailing across the ocean with the world at our fingertips. Sorry Viv, you’re out and I’m in like sin. Soft waves lap at the lakeshore beneath me and it’s easy to let this daydream take hold.

  I must fall asleep, because the next thing I know, Chap is scurrying to his feet and hopping off my lap. This jolts me awake. I’m a bit disoriented until I watch him take off down the dock to meet Lane. I smooth down my hair, wipe the drool from my lips, and hope I don’t outwardly look like I was just having the most erotic dream about the man standing 15 feet away. Thank God for thick, baggy sweatshirts that hide traitorous nipples.

  “Hey, buddy,” Lane says, giving his dog a big smile. That grin, along with a quick glance in my direction is enough to make my lady parts stand at attention, waiting to pick up where my dream left off. “Is this where you’ve been all day?” he asks. “I’ve searched the entire street.”

  Lane makes his way to me as I stretch my arms high and flex the muscles in my back. The sun is setting now and it paints him in a warm golden, magenta light that looks like one of the covers of my books. I can just imagine the story. Mysterious and handsome investment banker with an adorable dog meets a jilted, older woman, falls madly in love, builds her a private library slash wine cellar and provides hours of orgasms. Now that sounds like happily ever after.

  “Hi, Stella,” he greets. Chap sits at his feet.

  “Hello.” I see Lane glance down to my abandoned book and back to my face. “I was just doing some reading when Chap joined me. I guess I fell asleep.”

  “Another Alaina Taylor fan, huh?”

  “You know her?” I ask, sitting up taller.

  “I know of her. Everyone in this town does. She’s our only claim to fame, you know? Did you enjoy the book?” he asks, tucking his hands into his pockets, his piercing eyes holding me in place.

  “Very much. Though I worry that these books may be giving me unrealistic expectations for men.”

  He squats down now, so that our faces are on the same level. Lane’s hand reaches out. At first he gently squeezes my shoulder and I think it’s just a friendly gesture. But then, his fingers slide down my arm and he takes my hand in his. “Don’t say that. There are still good guys out there.”

  I lean into him now, a natural reaction to his nearness. The heat from his hand burns my chilled skin. It feels electric, like a spark igniting. “I suppose this is where you tell me that you’re one of them?”

  He grins and shakes his head. “I’d never claim to live up to fictional men. I’m not perfect.”

  “That’s the thing,” I say. “Neither are they. Alaina writes men who are real. Sure, they’re flawed, but they are also smart and kind, brave, strong and vulnerable.”

  “Sounds hard to live up to,” Lane says with a chuckle. He releases my hand and I frown.

  “After what I’ve been through, I’d settle for someone who was trustworthy. And amazing in bed wouldn’t hurt either, if you know what I mean.”

  Lane smirks, lifting one eyebrow. “I certainly know what you mean.” Chap scoots forward and sticks his nose between us, refusing to be forgotten. I laugh and give him another scratch.

  “I bet you’re a good guy, huh Chap?” He barks and gives my hand a lick.

  “Oh, yeah. He’s just great—eats my food, takes up most of the bed. Supposed to be my wingman, but I have a suspicion that he’s got ulterior and completely selfish motives.”

  Lane stands and holds out a hand, helping me to my feet. The blanket falls away and I am inches from his body, staring up into those bottomless blue eyes. He ducks his chin and his tongue peeks out, sliding across his bottom lip. My heart beats wildly as the breath I’m holding burns my lungs. Just when I think he’s going to kiss me, Lane bends over an
d grabs my book from the dock.

  “Don’t forget this,” he says.

  I let out a sigh and try to keep the disappointment off my face. He’s not a character, and I’m not in a romance novel. This is real life. I just happen to live adjacent to the hot, successful younger man who probably flirts with everyone and has taken pity on his old lady neighbor. He’s not just going to take charge and ravage me. Hell, he asks permission before entering my bedroom, I’m guessing he’d need a password and 16 digit encryption code to enter my vagina.

  “After reading that story, I could never forget that book,” I say, pressing the book to my chest as we make our way down the dock. “It’ll stick with me for days. I’d tell you all about it, but I’m sure you’re not into romance.”

  “Tell me what made it so great,” he says, as we step back into my yard.

  “Really?” I ask, looking up at his serious expression.

  “Yes. Humor me. I want to know what I’m up against.”

  “Who says you’re up against anything?” Lane hits me with a piercing look and I fold. “Fine, but can we chat inside? My ass is so cold, it’s numb. I can’t feel it at all. Is it still back there?” I ask, gesturing over my shoulder.

  He moves around me. “Most definitely.” I laugh and head for my back porch as he follows. “How’s your ankle doing?”

  “Much better. Just a little sore.” My cheeks flame at the thought of that entire night. I smile as I think about that poor dress cut to shreds in my bathroom trash can. I’ll have to get Marley a new one.

  Lane holds the screen door open as I tuck my book under one arm and push through the back door. “You mind if Chap comes in or should I bring him home?” he asks.

  “I don’t mind at all. Come on in, you two.” Having Lane in my space makes me a little anxious. He lingers close by, but not too close. Meanwhile, Chap has no boundaries and is already curled up on my ottoman. “Would you like some tea, or coffee, or hot chocolate?”

  “Tea would be great, thanks,” he says.

  I search through the cupboards, trying to find the box of tea Marley brought to keep here. “Please make yourself comfortable,” I say while moving things around in my search. “I know it’s here somewhere.”

  Suddenly, I feel Lane lightly press himself against my back as he reaches over my head and grabs the box of tea bags. “Here you go,” he says, warm breath fanning down my neck. He smells like sunshine and fresh laundry. I resist the urge to push back against him just to feel his body against mine. Though a little ass to crotch oopsie could move this flirting along a bit faster.

  I take the box from him and spin to face Lane. He barely moves, so there are only a few tension-filled inches between us. I want him to touch me, to lean in and whisper dirty words against my skin. Instead, I hold up the box and shake it.

  “I have no idea how to make tea,” I blurt out.

  He grins, wraps his hand around the box and takes it back. “Let me,” he says. “I saw a kettle right up here.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “When we say tea in the South, we mean cold, sweet tea.” I step aside and take a seat at my table while Lane moves around my kitchen like a pro. After the kettle is on the stove, he takes a seat across from me.

  “So, the book?” he asks.

  “You were serious about that?”

  “Of course,” he answers, pretending to be offended.

  “Basically, the story is about Edward and Vivian. It’s what we romance readers call a second-chance romance. They were together in college and life just led them in different directions. Ten years later, Vivian returns to her hometown after a bitter divorce and they reconnect.”

  Lane tents his fingers together on the tabletop. “Isn’t that a story that’s been told a million times?”

  “You’re right. But not like this. Alaina has a way of giving new life to stories we’ve all read before. It’s big love in a small town. It’s learning to trust someone again. It’s a slow burn that has you cheering for their relationship so hard, you feel personally invested in their happiness.”

  I realize I’ve become a bit over excited and drop my flailing hands into my lap. Lane gives me a lopsided smile and leans forward. “And what makes Edward so special?”

  The kettle begins to whistle and we both hop up. I grab two mugs while Lane tosses a tea bag into each one and fills them with hot water. In synchronized movements, we carry our drinks back to the table and return to our spots opposite each other.

  “I wouldn’t say he was special, just…” I sigh. “Edward is a genuine, good guy. You don’t really get to be in his head, because the story is told from Vivian’s point-of-view. But you know what kind of man he is by his actions. Men can say a lot of things, but nothing is truer than action.”

  “So less talk, more action,” Lane says slowly as if absorbing this revelation. His voice drips with smooth innuendo and implied interpretations.

  “Yes.”

  Lane removes his tea bag from the mug and sets it on the table before taking a sip. I mimic his movements and enjoy how the hot liquid coats my throat and stomach, warming me.

  “You know, I’m glad Chap encroached on your space today. I wanted to invite you to my annual Halloween Party next Saturday. Costumes are mandatory. I’ll provide the booze and snacks. You just bring yourself.”

  I look down at my tea and back to his gorgeous face. While social situations do not always show my best side, a party at his house intrigues me. Any closer look into the man next door can count me in. But facing something like that alone, as the new girl in town, makes my anxiety spike.

  “You’re having a Halloween party in September?”

  “Yeah,” he answers. “It’s kind of my thing. The end of October is always super busy with work, but I love Halloween. This way I still get to party, just a month early.”

  “Can I bring someone?”

  He frowns and meets my gaze. “As long as it’s not a guy.”

  My eyebrows shoot up, surprised at his forwardness. “No. It’s just my friend Marley. I have a feeling she lives for costume parties.”

  “Good,” he says, a smile splitting his face. “Bring her.”

  “Should I bring anything else? I was raised to never show up to a party empty-handed.”

  “Nah. I’ve got it. Come on, Chap.” The corgi hops down and follows Lane to my front door. “Thanks for the tea and the...education. Just make sure you’re in costume or you’ll be turned away.”

  “Damn. It’s like that?” I say, leaning on the open door as he makes his way across my porch.

  “Absolutely,” he says with a wave.

  _______________

  “At the rate that you drop by unannounced, I’ll never be able to walk around with no pants on,” I say as I let Marley in my front door.

  She pushes me aside and drops her stuff on my sofa. “I’d say you should not even worry about it anymore. At the rate you’re exposing yourself, you should embrace the no pants dance anytime you’re ready.” She laughs. “I’ve come to check on you, post boobie flashing 2.0 debacle. How you holdin’ up, love?”

  “Better than your dress. Sorry about it, but that thing was a vicious torture device.”

  Marley takes a seat, kicks her orange flats off and props her feet on top of my coffee table and my newest book. I scurry over and yank the book out from under her heels.

  “Respect the books, you English muffin.” She waves me off as I place my book into a safe place on the shelf before taking a seat across from her. “And I’m fine. The ankle is still a bit sore and my pride is dashed to bits, but fine.”

  “That’s fair,” she says. “I’m going to open a bottle of red. You in?”

  “Sure. Make yourself at home,” I tease. She heads into the kitchen and reappears a minute later with two wine glasses filled to the top. “Well, that’s a generous pour.”

  “I’m a generous person.”

  “Yeah, with my wine.”

  “Hey, I’ve got my own purse wine if you
want to dig into that stash.”

  “That’s okay. Save it for a special occasion like Tuesday. Thanks for checking on me. I saw Lane today.”

  Marley sets her glass down and turns toward me now. Her eyes are wide as she motions frantically for me to continue. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  “He invited me to his Halloween party next weekend. Even said you could come.”

  There is a devious sparkle in her eyes that wasn’t there minutes ago. “Fucking yes!” she shouts. “Wait. Why so early?”

  I shrug. “It’s his thing,” I say using finger air quotes.

  “You are finally going to get you some Saturday night. I feel it. I mean, he’s seen the girls already, why won’t he take the bait?”

  “Maybe he’s a gentleman, Marley. They might still exist—especially in small towns like this. Plus, I don’t even know if I want him to take the bait. Isn’t sleeping with your neighbor like a terrible idea? What if it gets awkward?”

  “And what if he turns out to be the man of your dreams and you live happily ever after, like in one of your books?”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready for any kind of relationship.”

  “Well, if you’re too scared to try, how will you ever find out?”

  “And what if my ex cheated because,” I stop and take a huge gulp of wine, “I wasn’t good in bed. I’ve only ever been with him. I have nothing to gauge myself by except the confident, sexy women in my novels. And I am not those women.”

  Marley rolls her eyes. “A, your ex-husband cheated because he’s a worthless, slimy piece of shit. And two, stop living through these books. Get off the page and live your life. I bet you’re a fantastic shag.”

  “Thanks,” I say with a shrug.

  “We’re going to do this big. It’s the one time a year where dressing like a slut is not frowned upon. Let’s go shopping now!” She checks her phone and grins. “We’ve got three hours until the stores in Hamilton Bay close. And I know just the place.”

  _______________

  Stepping into a party store just before October is a nightmare. There are kids chasing each other through the store with rubber knives and gorilla masks, people trying on wigs and tossing them aside, feather boas and velvet capes litter the floor and no one seems to be in charge.