Open Lanes

by Mary Morano

  At least one issue seemed to be resolved. She no longer had a boyfriend. My hands clenched again as I thought about him. She seemed to be past their relationship though, like it had been over for a while already, she was just waiting for the right time to end it. That was good. Now I just needed him to stop annoying her so that book was completely closed and back on the shelf. Then she could move forward, preferably with me. If he kept calling and texting, I would find a way to put an end to it, if she let me. The things she had told me about how he treated her earlier had tugged at my protective instincts and I didn’t like it. There was no way I was going to let him continue to treat my girl that way. And yes, she is my girl, whether she knew it yet or not.

  Now I just needed to get her to give me a chance. I knew the chemistry between us was off the charts. Fuck was it ever. When I touched her arm before it was like the world around us disappeared. All I could focus on was her soft skin underneath my rough hand and how amazing it would feel when I got to kiss those soft lips of hers and touch all the other places I had only dreamt about before. Great. Now I was fucking hard again. I shift in my seat again trying not to draw her attention. This was going to be a long few days. I would need to jerk off every chance I got if I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Trying to get my mind on something else, I started telling her about the places I planned to stop at. Hoping she would end up enjoying them as much as I would.

  During the rest of the drive, we talked about the different sights he planned to stop at, and I helped him adjust his plans to ensure we got home on Thursday. If I would have left it up to him, we would’ve still been in New York at that point. I also booked rooms in Massachusetts, New York, North Carolina, and Georgia for the nights that corresponded with our plans before I had to turn my phone off again to avoid throwing it out the window from El Dickhead’s incessant texts. While he had planned to just ‘wing it,’ I was more of a let’s make sure we have somewhere to sleep kind of person. He had been more than happy to hand over the reins and let me take control.

  The trip to Salem took a few hours, and we drove straight through. It was nearly 9pm when we pulled up to the Holiday Inn, which was located a few miles outside of the city. Once we were checked in, we agreed to meet at seven the next morning before entering our separate rooms. We would grab a quick breakfast from their buffet then head into Salem to see all the witchy sights.

  I was so exhausted from everything that had taken place that day, I barely had the energy to shower before falling into bed. I’m pretty sure I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow. The alarm went off all too soon the next morning forcing me from the comfortable bed I had cocooned myself in. I take a quick shower and get dressed in a tee that says, ‘Sometimes you have to put on the hat and remind them who they are dealing with,’ and features a witch's hat on the front. I had searched through my entire suitcase looking for this shirt the night before just so I could wear it today. I even take a few minutes to throw some basic makeup on and still manage to walk out the door at 6:59, only to find Brayden leaning against the wall across from my door. He’s wearing a pair of well-worn jeans, and a snug black t-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. His well-toned body is on full display and my mouth starts watering. I need to consciously remind myself that I am still not sure of his motives in order to avoid being in danger of trying to climb him like a tree and begging him to skip breakfast and join me in the room.

  In a moment of clarity, I find myself saying good morning, before turning on my heels and walking toward the elevator that will take us to the restaurant where breakfast was being served. My finger just presses the down button on the wall when my phone starts ringing in my pocket. With my mind still stuck on Brayden’s body and all the dirty things I want to do to it, I pull it out and answer, without paying attention to who is calling.

  “Hello?” I say, while looking around to see if Brayden had followed me, only to startle when I realize he is standing directly behind me. So close that we are almost touching. He smiles at me but doesn’t move at all.

  “Nicole. What the hell? Do you know how worried I’ve been? I’ve been waiting for you to call me. Only to go on Instagram and see you posting pictures with Brayden fucking Montgomery.” I groan at the sound of Mr. Dickface’s voice. Pulling the phone away from my ear even though he’s still talking, I groan again when the display shows his name. Damn, I should have looked before I answered it. Behind me Brayden makes a grunt of displeasure when he sees my ex’s name on the screen. Now that he’s on the phone, I guess I have to deal with him. Just as I start moving the phone back to my ear Brayden reaches over and presses the button to put it on speakerphone. The dickhead’s nasally voice fills the hallway as he continues to complain about how worried he was about me. Asshole. I look back at Brayden with wide eyes not sure why he did that, but he just juts his chin toward the phone, telling me to continue. Whatever, at least someone else will hear this conversation and confirm that I am not the crazy one. With a sigh, I cut off his little speech about how inconsiderate I’ve been.

  “Are you kidding me? You left me on the side of a highway with my suitcase. YESTERDAY. And we both know the only reason you are calling me is because you saw pictures of me with someone else! Screw you, asshole.”

  “Baby.” His voice takes on a whiny quality that makes me cringe as it echoes through the hallway. “You know it’s not like that. I just needed you to calm down for a little while before we could talk. I thought you would’ve called me to come get you, and then we could’ve made everything alright. I waited all day for you to call.”

  My hand tightens around the phone and I roll my eyes so hard I see the inside of my skull. Was he seriously trying to defend himself? Like leaving someone on the side of the road was a totally acceptable thing to do! What a loser! Just as I was about to flip my lid and start screaming at him, Brayden shifts closer to me. I feel his breath on the back of my neck when he starts speaking, his voice smooth and velvety, making me think of dirty hot sex.

  “Sweetheart get off the phone. You promised me, I could eat your pussy again before we have to checkout of the room. I’m so fucking hard for you right now, even after so many times last night. I need you, right now baby, please don’t make me wait another second. That’s it, stroke it faster baby, I’m going to make you come so hard you're not going to be able to do anything but scream my name.”

  My world spins on its axis as his dirty words penetrate my brain. My mind is assaulted by the images that go along with them. I squeeze my legs together as the ache in my core ramps up to almost unbearable levels. In the distance I hear my ex screaming about something, but Brayden puts his arm over my shoulder and pushes the end button on my phone. Then he hits the block button on Sir Douche’s contact card. I stand there in complete shock, my face so hot it is burning, and probably as red as a tomato too. My brain is completely short-circuiting and all I can think about are the words that were coming out of Brayden’s mouth and how I would do just about anything in this moment for them to be a reality. Holy shit! I am still in shock, standing there in the middle of the hallway, when the elevator dings and the doors open. Brayden comes up from behind me, leading me into the elevator with his hand firmly on my lower back, like nothing happened.

  I look down at my phone then up at him. My mouth is still wide in shock as the elevator descends. He puts his finger under my jaw, closing my mouth, leaving a burning trail behind. His eyes graze over my face, taking in every single detail before they shift to the ground. He never says a word though.

  We were sitting at the table waiting on coffee before the shock starts to wear off. I realize Brayden is sitting across from me, his eyes glued to my face.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Nothing, I’m just trying to figure out how to apologize. I shouldn’t have done that, I overstepped back there. I was just so annoyed that he left you on the side of the road where anything could’ve happened to you, and then he had the nerve to call and act like he was doin
g you a favor. I didn’t stop to think maybe it wasn’t a good idea.” I watch him for a second. Normally he exuded confidence, but in this moment, he looks like a little boy in trouble for ripping his new jeans. He thinks I’m mad, and not in shock over his comments, but I’m not. Honestly, it feels like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders now that the decision has been taken out of my hands. I knew he was never going to just let it go. I just didn’t want to have to speak to him after what he did, but I felt bad blocking him. Brayden has taken care of that for me by doing the one thing I knew needed to be done but couldn’t bring myself to do. I burst out laughing, feeling lighter than I have in weeks, and he watches me closely like he’s unsure of what my reaction means.

  “Dude don’t apologize for that! It was literally the best thing ever. He must be so pissed off right now. I wish I was a fly on the wall to see his face when he heard that.” Now we’re both laughing, drawing the attention of the other diners, but honestly, who cares? We’re having fun.

  After we check out and return our luggage to the car, we head into downtown Salem. We pay the extra money to find a lot that would allow us to park closer to downtown so we wouldn’t waste time looking for parking and then walking down here. It’s a gorgeous spring day and we want to not only enjoy the weather but also get as much in as possible in the short time we have.

  First on our list of stops is the Witch House, followed by the Witch Museum, and then the Dungeon Museum where they do a live reenactment. They’re all so interesting, I find myself wishing we could spend an extra day or two so we could see more of the sights and museums the town has to offer. We do manage to find the time to walk through the Witch Village and take the opportunity to pop into some of the more interesting shops. I find my very own authentic witch hat, along with two more shirts to add to my collection. One states, ‘I got stoned in Salem,’ and the other says ‘Not every witch lives in Salem.’ I am so excited about all I’ve gotten to see and do, I even go willingly along with Brayden’s need to photograph us in front of everything. He takes pictures of me in my witch hat as we walk around so he can send them to my mom, who apparently thinks his captions are hysterical. He also gets a few of us together in front of some very satanic looking statues when he stops people who are walking by to take pictures of us. The morning is an absolute blast, I’m pretty sure I haven’t smiled or laughed this much in years.

  Over breakfast we had decided that we would only have time to do one walking tour and had agreed to do the Hocus Pocus themed one. Brayden wanted to do it since that would probably be the best place to take pictures in front of, while I wanted to do it because I loved that movie. Since we still have over an hour before the tour starts, we decide to grab some food first. With a recommendation from some locals we asked, we end up at a restaurant called Bit Bar. As soon as we walk in, I’m glad we decided to follow their suggestion. The place should be a tourist stop all on its own. The menu is filled with so many delicious options, and there are old school video games and pinball machines that you can play. We take a seat and look over the menu before ordering. The waitress tells us the food won’t be long before she offers to get us some change for the games if we want to play while we wait. Which of course we do. Seeing the game, we always played as kids in the corner, we headed over to the Donkey Kong machine. We manage to get in four rounds—which he beats me in every single one—before our waitress waves us down to say the food is ready. While we eat our burgers and fries, I challenge him to another round before we have to leave, knowing he can never say no to a challenge. After we finish and pay the bill, we head back over to the game. He goes first, making it all the way to level three on a single coin. I frown, I don’t think I have ever even gotten past level one in this game. I slipped my coin in the slot and hit the start button. The music starts playing as my character moves across the screen. Suddenly the gorilla appears at the top and starts throwing barrels down at me. I try to run faster, but it’s no use. I barely even make it to the second ladder before a barrel crushes me. I glare at the screen and then at him as he tries to stifle his laugh. Stupid boys and their stupid video games. With a huff, I spin on my heels, reminding him we have to leave if we want to make it to the tour on time.

  We follow the guide around Salem for 90 minutes, enjoying the stories and sights, while we, of course, take a ton of awesome pictures. My favorite one of the day turns out to be one of the two of us, locked in the stockades, me wearing my witch hat and him with a backward baseball cap. In the picture both our faces are bright red, mine after he made a comment about needing one of these for his bedroom, and his from laughing at my choked reaction. It was a good day. One that has me seriously reconsidering my previous stance on all things Brayden.

  Once we are in the car and the GPS is set to our next hotel in New York, I edit the picture to adjust the lighting and put on a spooky frame around it, then add it to my Instagram, making sure to tag him in it. After that, I find the dumbass’s page and hit the block button.

  Proud of myself for taking that step, I put on Spotify and sit back, enjoying my iced coffee as I watch the sun set in front of me. We drive and sing along to songs that were released when we were still in diapers, and it feels like we’re friends again. Can it really be that simple though? I’m not sure, but it kind of feels like it is. I finally allow my mind to wander down the path of friendship with Brayden. If I have to be honest with myself, I’ve missed him. He wasn’t only my best friend growing up, but my partner in crime. We did everything together. I’m usually shy and nervous around people, I’m much better with books, so making friends has always been hard for me. When he turned on me, seemingly out of nowhere, it hurt, a lot. If this Brayden is for real, I think I can get behind renewing our friendship. We would have to have a serious conversation about the past first to help me understand why he did what he did. Before any of that could happen though, I needed to be sure he wouldn’t flip on me again because I couldn’t take that type of rejection a second time. Not from him of all people.

  We were almost at our next hotel, which was in Woodstock, NY when I finally worked up the courage to ask a question that I had been thinking about the whole trip.

  “Hey, how come you didn’t ask anyone to drive down with you? I’m sure one of your teammates would have wanted to take the trip with you. Especially if they got to spend some time at the beaches in Florida at the end of it.” He glances over at me out of the corner of his eye before responding.

  “I didn’t ask them because I was hoping the person I did ask, would change their mind and come with me.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense. So, who was it? Your girlfriend? Oh God! Do you have a girlfriend that I’m going to have to watch out for now? Is she going to be stalking me and threatening to beat me up if I don’t stay away from you?” Jealousy runs hot through my body right alongside the anxiety at the thought of him having a girlfriend. The last two days had really chipped away at my hate for him, and now I was being overpowered by thoughts of his body, the words he said earlier, the feel of his breath on my neck. I just somewhat agreed to a tentative friendship in my head and now it’s jumped to his body again. My mind is a confusing place to live. Thankfully, he speaks again before my mind falls further down that rabbit hole.

  “You’re kidding, right?” The anger in his voice surprises me. I don’t know why that question upset him, but his smile is gone, and his hands are once again tense around the wheel. I’ve noticed he does that a lot when he’s trying to keep his temper under control. Maybe, he had asked his girlfriend and there was a bad breakup? Maybe he thought I would know what happened? I don’t really involve myself in much gossip. I’d much prefer to have my nose in a book than other people’s drama, but I guess he wouldn’t really know that about me anymore. I guess if it was a big thing, it would be expected that I would know about it. He is one of the kings of campus and all, so normal people probably would. I, however, was far from normal, and completely confused.

  “You may not know
this about me, but I avoid drama, gossip, and pretty much anything that would go along with those. So no, I’m not kidding you. I have no idea who you would have invited or why they wouldn’t want to go with you. I’m under the impression you're some god-like being on campus.” He looks over at me again, then back to the road, then to me again. When his eyes glance back to the road once more, he straightens out his long body as best he can and reaches his right hand into his pocket to pull out his cell. He allows his thumbprint to rest on the home button, so the screen unlocks, before he glances to it, then back to the road. When he starts moving his thumb around as if he’s typing, I glare at him. “You know texting and driving is more dangerous than drinking and driving, right? I prefer to get to Florida alive and not in a casket.”

  He locks his phone, resting it on the center console, before glancing over at me with an unsure look on his face. Still, he doesn’t say a word as the minutes tick by. His eyes focus back on the road, but his face continues to scrunch up more as time passes. I let the silence continue, figuring he doesn’t want to talk about the subject, and lean the seat back so I can close my eyes and relax. Nearly twenty minutes go by before he speaks again. I startle at the deep intrusion to my almost sleep, my eyes jumping open.

  “Where is your phone?” He growls.

  “Umm… right there under your dashboard. What do you think is playing the music since your phone was in your pocket?” I sass back. His green eyes shoot toward my phone, following along the cord that connects it to his radio. The confusion on his face becomes more prominent, his eyes tightening and a deeper frown forms.

  “Did you change your number when you went to school?”