Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  “Good,” he says, standing and tossing our trash into a nearby garbage can. Lane walks over and grabs my hand, kissing my knuckles. “Glad we’re on the same page.” He leans down now and presses his lips to mine. What starts off as a modest kiss morphs into something deeper, hungrier. Before I know it, we are full on making out in the middle of the street. And I. Don’t. Care.

  “Get a room,” someone shouts from down the block. We break away wearing matching smiles.

  “Is this really happening?” I ask.

  “It is,” Lane answers.

  I want to spin in circles until I’m dizzy. I want to shout and scream and laugh until I can’t breathe. I want to shake my ass and fist pump like there’s no tomorrow. Because my life, at this moment, is unrecognizable and amazing. I have released my fears and embraced what’s right in front of me. Lane Holder, the gorgeous man of my dreams wants me. He wants to listen when I talk. He wants to be a part of my future. He wants to ravage me and show me his world. He wants to introduce me to his only family. And I want to let him.

  _______________

  I roll my new yoga mat out next to a young girl on the front row. The room is a large space with a wall of mirrors and a wall of windows. About twenty other women and two men file in and start stretching while I search out Reagan. I find her talking to a group near the door.

  “Hi,” I say, inserting myself.

  “Hey,” Reagan says, giving me a hug. “Everyone, this is Stella.” They all give a wave and friendly greetings. “You guys ready to get started?”

  I follow her back to the front of the room. “Don’t worry about keeping up,” she says. “This is an intermediate class, so you may not be able to fully extend into every position. The key is to do what you can and mind your breathing.”

  I nod and take a seat on my mat, mimicking everyone else’s starting pose. Reagan presses a remote and soft, soothing music pumps through the speakers. She sits facing the class and closes her eyes.

  “Be mindful,” she says.

  “Be mindful,” the class repeats, startling me.

  “Seek peace,” Reagan says. This time I’m ready and respond with the class.

  “Seek peace.”

  “Okay. Clear your mind,” Reagan says. “Let’s begin in Lotus position. Breathe in.” She pauses. “Exhale.”

  I follow her directions, feeling my body begin to relax. Though clearing my mind is much harder. Just then, the door bursts open and slams against the cinderblock wall. Marley comes tumbling through the door, pulling a shirt over her sports bra as she walks. The whole class watches as she makes her way across the room and sets up next to me.

  “Sorry,” she mock whispers. Marley faces Reagan. “I’m here. I made it. Let’s roll.” I laugh as she sits on her mat and gives me a wink.

  “Let’s refocus,” Reagan says calmly. “And one more deep breath before we transition to Thunderbolt.” Everyone moves to sit on their knees with hands resting in their laps. “Straighten your spine and stay as tall as possible.” I look around and realize I’m the only one slouching. Lifting my head, I square my shoulders and elongate my spine.

  “Good,” Reagan says, and I know she’s talking directly to me. “Exhale and move into Child Pose.”

  I watch Marley lean forward, resting her chest and head on the ground and extending her arms out. I do it too, our faces toward each other.

  “This isn’t so bad,” I say.

  “This is just the warm up, love.” Marley grins and I feel dread sink into the pit of my stomach for what’s to come.

  “Exhale. Now push up into Downward Dog.” Following Reagan’s example, I push up with my arms and straighten my legs, my body creating an upside down V. I can feel the pull in my calf muscles and eventually my arms begin to shake. “Remember to breathe,” Reagan reminds us.

  As dumb as I would have thought that reminder was, I’m happy for it now. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath. I exhale in one big gush and inhale slowly, silently begging her with my mind to change positions.

  “Sink down into Upward Dog. Inhale.” I drop my belly and legs to the ground, keeping my upper body rigid and tilting my head back to look at the ceiling. “Exhale and back to Downward Dog.”

  I groan and hear Marley chuckle. A few minutes feel like an hour in this class. I glance around the room and find no clock, knowing its absence is purposeful. Six more moves and every muscle in my body has been pulled, stretched, bent, and exhausted. Surprisingly, I actually work up a sweat.

  When I think I can’t take much more, Marley whispers that we’re almost done. I breathe out a sigh of relief just as Reagan walks by to check our form. “Nice breath control, Stella,” she says. I hold in a laugh.

  “We’re going to end on a big stretch,” Reagan says from the back of the room. “Move into Wide-Legged Forward Bend.”

  Marley spreads her feet wide apart, laces her fingers together behind her back and bends forward, almost touching her head to the ground. Moving my feet apart, I get into pose and exhale. The back of my thighs, knees, and calves burn from the stretch and I know I’ll be sore tomorrow. But I like it. I love how loose and relaxed I feel while knowing I’m still getting a workout.

  Just as I’m pushing my head down farther to get a bigger stretch a loud fart rips from Marley. While she keeps her composure, I completely lose it. I’m laughing so hard, I can’t breathe. My chest aches and I collapse on the floor. My face burns as I try to suck in a breath, but I can’t stop laughing.

  Marley turns to me with a straight face. “Had egg salad for lunch, did you?”

  I immediately gasp, finally sucking in the air I need, when I realize she’s pinning it on me. Looking around, I realize I’m the only one who looks guilty. Curled into a ball on the floor laughing uncontrollably while everyone else holds their pose. Reagan grins as she walks to the front of the room.

  “Up into mountain pose. Give me two three-part breaths and we’re done.”

  I scramble to my feet and stand tall with my arms raised high over my head. I take deep breaths while giving Marley the stink eye in the mirror. She just smiles and sticks out her tongue.

  “Good job, everyone,” Reagan says. “See you next week.”

  I drop my arms and turn to Marley as people start to file out of the room. “Oh my god, you bitch!” I give her a light punch on the shoulder. “Everyone thought I did that!”

  She breaks into hysterics now, followed by Reagan. “You should have seen your face,” Marley says through her laughter.

  “I can’t ever come back to this class,” I say, swatting her again. “And I really liked it, you ass.”

  “Ouch, you blimey tart. Stop being so violent,” Marley says, rubbing her shoulder, but still smiling.

  “It’s fine,” Reagan says, stepping between us. She looks at me with her signature sympathetic gaze. “It happens more than you’d think.”

  “Yeah,” Marley says, rolling up her mat. “Stop being so uptight. You get relaxed enough and pulled in the right direction, it’ll happen to you too.”

  “I’m so embarrassed,” I groan, covering my face.

  “No worries,” Marley says. “At the next class, I bet you’ll have plenty of space around you, because no one will want to get close to that trump gun.”

  I roll my eyes and shove my mat into my bag. “Trump? Is that what you Brits call a fart?” I ask.

  The three of us head outside onto the sidewalk. “Of course. Same thing,” Marley says. “It can also be used as a verb. As in, ‘I trumped in yoga class and blamed it on my mate.’”

  17

  THE NEXT DAY I moan and groan through inventory. Every bit of movement hurts. There are aches where I didn’t know I had muscles. While it’s painful, I still enjoy taking control of my body and pushing myself.

  At lunch, Becca slips me two pills and tells me they’re muscle relaxers. “Take them tonight before bed, because you won’t be able to sleep.”

  “Thanks?” I say, dropping the pills
into my apron pocket.

  That night, after an hour of uncomfortable tossing and turning, I take the pills. They relax me so well, I’m asleep in minutes and don’t wake up until my alarm the next morning.

  When Saturday arrives, it’s warm enough to have coffee on my back porch. I smile into my cup as I think about hopping on that Harley with Lane. By 11 o’clock, I’m dressed and ready, knocking on his door.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he says, stepping aside to let me in. I greet Chap with a belly rub and turn to face Lane. “Nice boots.” I do a little spin, showing off my new jeans and vintage Doc Martin boots. “That jacket won’t do, though.”

  “What’s wrong with my jacket?” I ask, looking down at the old, beat up leather.

  Lane opens a closet door in his foyer and pulls out a woman’s black leather motorcycle jacket. “I got you a little something,” he says, removing my old jacket and sliding this one on.

  It’s a beautiful piece with a relaxed snap collar and asymmetrical zipper up the front. There’s quilted stitching on the shoulders and it fits like a dream. The smell of new leather wraps around me right before Lane does.

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful,” I say. He releases me and grabs his own jacket from the closet.

  “And safer, too. It’s got shoulder, elbow, and back armor built in. Gloves are in the pockets.”

  I lift up on my toes and kiss him. “You’ve thought of everything. Can we go now?”

  “So eager, babe. What if I wanted to have some ‘pie’ first?”

  “Nope. No time. Let’s ride.”

  Lane chuckles and leads us out into the garage. “Have you ridden before?”

  “Nope.”

  “So, make sure you hold on to me at all times, even when we stop. Keep your feet on the pegs so you don’t get burned on the exhaust system. On turns, stay neutral and look over my inside shoulder. It is important to not shift your weight suddenly in the corner. If you need me to stop or there’s a problem, three taps on my shoulder. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  He hits a button on the wall and the garage door opens, flooding the space with light. I grab both helmets, handing his over and strapping mine on. Lane climbs onto the bike and nods for me to hop on. I step on the peg, grab his hand and swing my leg over the bike. When I’m pulled in tight behind him with my arms around his waist, he starts her up.

  A loud rumble fills the space and echoes out into the neighborhood. The vibration is strong at first, but then settles down into a purr. Lane revs the engine a few times to prime her, pops the kickstand up and we are off.

  I hold in a squeal as we make our first turn out of town and hit some country roads. Blurs of red and orange leaves, and even a few evergreens blur by as I take in the view. The wind cuts through my jeans, chilling the skin of my legs, but my upper body and feet are nice and warm. The feel of the sun, the bike, and the speed combine to reinforce every adrenaline-filled imagining of this. He guns the motor and we take off. With my arms wrapped around Lane I feel like we’re flying above the world instead of coasting through it.

  Eventually, we slow to a crawl at a stop sign and Lane turns left onto a road that rises steep through the trees. Here, the sun is barely visible with the huge branches acting as a canopy above the narrow, winding road. He navigates through this beautiful tunnel of autumn much more slowly, taking each turn with care. I wonder if he does this only because I’m with him.

  After a while, the trees open up and we are headed downhill. The sun is warm on my shoulders and from this vantage point, I can see for miles around us. It’s absolutely beautiful and I immediately think of bringing Brea and her family up here. I know she would appreciate the beauty of this place.

  Another 30 minutes of riding and we pull into a place called Schrute Farms. When we come to a couple of farm houses, Lane pulls over and parks the bike. He motions for me to hop off first, so I do. He swings his leg over and sits sideways on the bike while I remove my helmet. Lane takes his helmet off and runs his hands through his hair, returning it to its usual disarray.

  “How’d you like your first ride?” he asks.

  “Like it? I loved it! It was amazing.” I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze tight before placing a kiss on his cheek. “What is this place?”

  Lane stands and unzips his jacket. “Well, it’s usually an apple orchard. But it’s late in the season and all the picking has been done. They have a nice little restaurant too.” He leans down, his lips hovering near my ear. “They even have pie.”

  I laugh as he pulls me up the steps and into the building. The decor is very farmhouse chic and the room is filled with small wooden tables and chairs. There’s a chalkboard menu over the counter and an old cash register sits at the end.

  We order our food and have a seat near the front window. The land rolls into a valley, where I can see rows and rows of apple trees.

  “Next year, we can come up here and pick some apples,” Lane says.

  I smile. “Yes. For Kennedy to bake into pies.”

  He grins. “Or maybe you could try again. One failure doesn’t make you a failure.”

  His words hit me on so many levels, it’s like they smooth over the last jagged edges of my heart. “So I’m learning,” I reply.

  “You look so sexy in that jacket,” he says, leaning forward. “And my favorite part? You look like you know it.”

  His words make me blush. I shrug one shoulder, but meet his gaze across the table. All his compliments flood my head and the way he looks at me gives me confidence. “I do know it.”

  “Good.”

  After the roar of the bike and whistle of the wind, we are content to sit in silence and wait on our meal. Lunch is a delicious chicken pot pie for me and corned beef hash for him. Each are served in miniature cast iron skillets on small wooden planks.

  We both dig in, only stopping here and there for casual conversation. When we’re finished with our meal, I tip the waitress since Lane wouldn’t let me pay, and we head outside.

  “There’s a short walking trail,” he says. “Are you interested before we hit the road again?”

  “Sure.”

  Our hike only takes about fifteen minutes, but is just the kind of quiet moment we need to recharge. We spot birds and squirrels and the biggest spider web I’ve ever seen. It’s late afternoon now and I know Lane wants to get us home before night comes.

  Soon, we’re back on the bike and heading toward Grace. The ride back is just as nice and I enjoy the serenity of not being in control of anything for a while. Just as we make our stop and turn onto the road back to town, the engine sputters and dies. We roll to a stop and Lane tries to start it back up, but nothing happens.

  We both climb off the bike and remove our helmets. “Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry. Let me call roadside assistance so we’re not stuck out here.” He removes his phone from a zippered pocket, but I hold up a finger to stop him.

  “Can I take a look at it first?” I ask. His eyebrows shoot up and he slowly slips his phone back into its pocket.

  “Be my guest. It sounded like we ran out of fuel, but I gassed up yesterday.”

  I nod, unzip my jacket and shrug out of it, laying it over the bike. I knock on both tanks to verify they have fuel and they do. Leaning down and placing my ear next to the tank. When I unscrew the cap on the left tank I hear a sucking noise when air rushes in.

  “Your cap vent is clogged,” I say, holding up the cap and line. “Be just a second.” I pull the line and try to blow through it, but nothing budges. “Maybe you have stronger lungs than me, being a runner and all,” I tell Lane. I hand him the line and show him how to hold it. “Now blow into it as hard as you can.”

  He follows my directions and after a few seconds, debris flies out of the end of the tube. Lane smiles in victory and blows into it a few more times, clearing more gunk.

  “How’s that?” he asks, handing it back.

  “That’ll be perfect for now. I can clean it out better or replace i
t once we get back.” I replace the cap on the gas tank. “May take a couple of tries, but she’ll start.”

  Lane stalks toward me and I squeal as he grabs me by the ass and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he spins us around. “I have never been so turned on in my life,” he growls. Lane’s lips crash against mine. He is tongue and teeth and desperate, greedy hands pulling me against his body. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Really? Because my ex wouldn’t let me do anything with the cars. Said that was a man’s job.”

  “Well, I’m not emasculated by your fucking talent. I love it. And no talk of your ex when I just want to take you into the woods and fuck you senseless.” He rests his forehead against mine. “But you’re too good for that and I want to take my time.”

  I kiss him this time. It’s with the same desperate longing I’ve always had when he’s touching me, saying all the right words. “God, I want you,” I say between panting breaths after I slide his bottom lip from between my teeth.

  “Yeah?” he asks, eyes shining in the afternoon sun. I nod, my smile telling him everything he needs to know. He sets me back down on my feet. “We’re 10 minutes from town. I’ll get us there in five.”

  I laugh as I pull my jacket back on and mount the bike behind him. She kicks to life on the third try and we are off, speeding down the highway toward what I know will be an unforgettable night.

  _______________

  The bike is barely parked with the garage door closing behind us before we’re off the bike and onto each other. Lane pulls the zipper down on his own jacket and shrugs out of it as he kisses me senseless. I do the same with my own jacket. We are desperate moans and roaming hands as we stumble inside. Once the door closes behind us, Lane presses me against the wall. His arms cage around me protecting my head as we bounce from wall to wall, his mouth never leaving mine.

  At the bottom of the stairs, he pulls my shirt over my head and drops it at our feet. My nervous hands pull at the hem of his shirt and when I can’t seem to get it, he reaches behind his head and pulls it off. God, I am speechless and weak as I take in all the muscle and colorful ink. I think about tasting every inch of that skin, running my hands over every dip and curve of muscle, tracing the lines of his tattoos with my tongue.