Page 17 of Changing Lanes

“We both know that’ll never happen.” Angie stares into her man’s eyes, daring him to argue, and I have to look away from the intensity.

“Never,” Coty agrees before Angie turns triumphantly to leave, his eyes tracking her every move.

“Yes, please. Take your hate speech somewhere else,” I call out while she’s still in earshot, earning me a middle finger held high above her head.

“I like her unrestrained, man. You don’t tame girls like her, you embrace the beauty in their wild and adapt.” His gaze meets mine pointedly. “Or get eaten alive.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, he spins to follow his girl.

“Sounds like great advice for your first satanic ritual. Did you find that on a greeting card?”

I’m rewarded with a second middle finger followed by a “goodnight.”

Easy for him to say. He doesn’t have to go back to Creekwood. It hasn’t even been a full week yet but I’m already surrounded by her. Everywhere I go, Paige is there.

In the living room with her stupid DVD collection off to the side of the TV. What the fuck is Final Girl by the way? Shit looks weird as hell. One girl, four guys—sounds like a horror movie if I’ve ever heard one. Three guys and one girl though…that might be fun.

In the kitchen with her bulk snacks and tea. Almost twenty-one my ass, chick is on her way to sixty-one with the crap she likes. I hate even going near the bathroom anymore with her overwhelming scent invading the air—peaches with a hint of smoke from her constant riding. Smoky peaches? Who the fuck would’ve thought such a thing existed? Sounds like something Bobby Flay came up with—the brilliant bastard. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever smelled and I’ve been walking around with a chubby all week.

The only place I find any reprieve is in my bedroom, except I don’t. Not really. She’s taken over every dream my sick head comes up with while I try to sleep off the constant state of arousal I’ve found myself in since Paige moved in. Even with all the reminders of our female roommate, I haven’t seen her in the flesh going on four days now and yet I can’t get her out of my mind.

And…thinking about her flesh has my dick growing hard all over again.

Jesus.

I knew a girl living with us would be a bad idea. I told Marc that but no, he didn’t listen. Seeing her in that dumbshit’s arms was…difficult. I don’t expect her to be celibate while living under the same roof—hell, I know I won’t be—but that guy’s all wrong. For many, many reasons. Starting with how old he looked. I’m not even talking about his age either. Despite resembling a model fresh off the runway, dude looked like he’s seen some shit and done even more. Like the weight of the world on his shoulders is winning and he’s two seconds away from letting it. No wonder he was pawing at Paige. Any girl that rides her own motorcycle is hot, but Paige is more. She carries herself with a confidence that rivals any man’s I’ve ever met. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, prettier than I originally thought, with hair that demands your full attention no matter what you’re doing. I had to work hard—so fucking hard—to keep from wrapping my hands in her wild locks in my truck as they flew around her face without a care in the world, completely unlike their owner. Paige has more going on than she shows. Her outside broadcasts carefree while inside she’s twisted up with worries. She measures her words, only revealing what she wants you to know, almost like she’s spinning an intricate web around you while you’re too busy looking at how attractive she is. Problem is, I can’t be captured by anyone, beautiful or not, let alone a woman that lives so close to where I sleep.

With that in mind, I send a text to a girl that brought her Lexus in last week, asking if she’s down to chill tonight. Saturday. Paige’s only night off. I need to get her out of my head and her first official night in the apartment is the perfect time to evict her from my thoughts entirely.

The chick, Carlson apparently, replies instantly, setting Operation Forget Paige in effect.

Let the fun begin.

* * *

This shit sucks. I didn’t know Marc had so many goddamn teeth but here he is, yucking it up with Paige with all his pearly whites on display. They’ve had their heads together laughing like a couple of hyenas while I’ve been saddled with this broad in snakeskin. I don’t think it’s real snakeskin but the god awful dress she’s wearing is itchy as all hell. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a rash now. She’s trying to keep my focus solely on her but…she’s failing. Miserably. With the star of all my recent dreams sitting a few feet away looking like the posters on my wall come to life, how can I concentrate on anything else?

Paige’s head is thrown back, exposing her throat, and my fingers itch to rub the length of it before grabbing a fistful of her merlot-colored hair and bringing her mouth to mine—if only just to shut her up. I’ve never been a fan of wine before but find myself craving a taste the longer I sit here watching. Watching her, with my boy. With my brother. She needs to be forcibly removed from my fantasies already. The best way to get over one woman is to be buried balls deep in another, right? I’m only guessing since I’ve never been hung up on anyone before. This feeling is new and incredibly unpleasant. I hate it. I hate her. Sort of.

Not really, but I wish I did. It’d make this whole thing a lot easier.

Time to kick this up a notch.

I stand, taking what’s-her-name with me and she giggles. It’s forced and I hate it, too. I hate it more. I’m tempted to drop her but snakes have a penchant for biting and I actually like all my body parts being puncture-free. Plus, I have plans for this viper.

Digging my fingers into her hips as I walk us out to the balcony, leaving Hee and Haw in the living room, only spurs the girl on and she begins moaning. Loudly.

I cover her mouth with mine, smothering the exaggerated sounds, and plant her ass on the banister. I don’t have to look behind me to know Paige has tuned into the action. If the abrupt silence didn’t give her away, the hole currently burning through my shirt from her stare would.

The kiss is lazy and boring, waiting for me to take control. Any other night I would, but tonight, I’m not feeling it. This poor girl has been spoiled her whole life, never having to work for what she has, including that shiny car she brought in for maintenance last week, and it shows.

Bubble gum—I’ve got a wad of bubble gum for a dick right now.

Her tongue flopping around inside my mouth like a beached fish has me choking back a gag but I forge on, not quite ready to quit this mission yet, even if it is starting to feel damn impossible. I need to get laid, yesterday. Judging from her lifeless mouth, I’ll be putting in all the work tonight.

Beyond done with her joke of a performance, I drop my lips to her neck, pretending it’s another’s. The one I’ve been watching like Edward Cullen himself. Fucking Angie and her stupid vampire movies. That’s the one thing I don’t miss about our roommate and his girl—the cheesy movies we were forced to watch. Or more specifically, I was forced to watch since Marc always hides out in his room doing who knows what behind that closed door of his.

Actually, I saw once. More than once if I’m being bold which, since I speak in all-caps anyway, isn’t too hard.