Page 103 of Changing Lanes

“I’m friends with your ass. What would you call that?”

She waves me away, not taking any of my shit. “Quit changing the subject. There’s something different about you now. You care about her.”

I’m not sure what she’s getting at.

“She’s my roommate,” I say like that clears up any confusion. I mean, yeah, we live under the same roof but my feelings for her have nothing to do with where we lay our heads. I’d be attracted to her whether we lived together or not. It just so happens her close proximity makes things easier.

I almost laugh out loud. Nothing about Paige is easy.

Angela’s hazel eyes squint at me. “Does she sleep in Marc’s bed, too?”

I stand so suddenly my thighs knock into the desk and she has to steady herself so she doesn’t fall off. She doesn’t cower though. There’s no reason to. I’d never hurt her or any female. She’s pushing my buttons on purpose. She wants a rise out of me and talking about Paige in another guy’s bed does just that.

“No, she doesn’t. Fuck. You. Very. Much,” I enunciate each word, louder for the people in the back. “And she never will if I have anything to say about it,” I promise, deadass serious.

“And why do you think you have a say? Who are you to her?”

“I-” Well, damn if Angela didn’t just hand me my own ass.

Who am I to Paige?

We had sex, amazing sex, but she hasn’t even reached out to me. Not even with a cheesy-ass text like “hey.” Or to tell me we’re out of milk. Or to buy a new shower curtain. I can afford a thousand new shower curtains but I can’t bring myself to replace the only physical evidence of what happened between us. That and the scratches decorating my back and arms right now.

That girl is under my skin in more ways than one.

I slump back in the seat. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing, Angie. She’s fucking everywhere. She’s all I think about, all I see. She’s a fucking mess and I’m a fucking wreck. We do not go together. We shouldn’t. But-”

“But?” she urges patiently.

“But I literally can’t stop myself from wanting her. It’s like a sickness I never want the cure for.”

“How deep are you?”

“Deep? Like love?” The idea of falling in love right now makes my skin prickle. “No, I think you misunderstood what I meant. I don’t love her. I just like to-”

“Fuck her?” Angie stands, straightening her shirt. She always fidgets, not knowing what to do with her hands if they aren’t busy with something. Let’s just say Pop The Hood never runs out of freshly laundered and folded towels.

I frown at her directness. Fucking Paige then moving on doesn’t sound as appealing as I made it sound in my head. As I made it sound when I was convincing her back into my bed.

“That’s what I thought. You’re different from before and you know it. You’re just fucking around, wasting time. Grow a pair and figure out what you want, then let her know. She deserves that, especially with all the shit she’s going through. In the meantime, stop acting like the spoiled brat you are,” I finally give in and flip her off, “by marking territory that isn’t even yours.”

Snickering, I stand as well, wrapping her in a hug.

“Did you not hear me the first time? Chick rode my tongue like she was in a fucking rodeo.” She rode something else just as good, too.

Angie smacks me away with a grimace and I tell her, “That territory is definitely mine.”

“Then you better get your ass back in the ring or she might find someone else to ride.”

Uh, no. I like that idea even less.

Before we leave the office—I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking with this paperwork bullshit, plus I’ve got a project I need to finish before our new hire shows up—Angela stops, instantly serious and asks, “What if she meets someone at the festival?”

“Then I better bring two shovels.” Her eyebrows nearly collide. “One for each of us so we can bury the fucker together. We both know Coty wouldn’t last one night in jail and Marc fits the profile of a murderer a little too easily, he’d be caught immediately. You’re my only hope, neighbor girl.”

I’m promptly shoved out the door—only because I let her push me—and we return to work with a pair of matching smirks that may or may not lean on the evil side.

She knows I’m right.