Page 47 of Changing Lanes

Right.

Dixon is standing so close I can hear him grinding the molars I know are chockfull of fillings from never flossing. One time he was the first to fall asleep at our house—a huge mistake—and my brothers and I tied him to the bed with dental floss. We used every shred we could find and our house smelled like cinnamon burst for weeks afterward, but it didn’t help. He still refused to floss after that.

I was just getting felt up—kind of—in front of his bar’s parking lot, in broad daylight, by my hot/cold/but still super hot roommate. This should be fun.

“Hey, Dixon. How’s it hangin’?” I joke, surreptitiously rubbing at my neck, trying to rid the feel of Beckett’s lips.

“Don’t even try it,” he replies then asks, “who the hell is this?”

He jerks his chin at Beckett who’s suddenly very interested in what keeps my attention. His helmet’s now in place over his head but the visor is flipped open as he stares at Dixon like he’s found a new opponent. He’s stock-still, save for his hand. The one closest to me. It’s shaking like a junkie coming down from a high and I have this sneaking suspicion it’s to grab something. Someone.

Me? Dixon?

Dixon has the scary bit down pat from running a rowdy bar but he’s like one of my brothers—minus the ignoring me part. He was there to talk some sense into Jesse every time the boys would try to enforce another idiotic rule in the house that magically only affected me.

This is awkward on a whole other level and I don’t even know what to say or how to say it. Do I introduce Beckett as my roommate? My arch-nemesis? The guy I want to fuck into next week mainly because this week has had enough disappointment? I can only take rejection at the hands of a man so many times before the pain sticks. And spreads.

I point at Beckett, squinting. “It’s Jake, right?”

Dixon recognizes the inside joke right away and bites his lips together, trying not to let me off the hook but I see it and I smile over at him. Beckett obviously doesn’t understand the insurance commercial reference. That was our go-to greeting for the many bill collectors that would call the house. Everyone knows Jake. Except Beckett, I guess. He’s scowling like he forgot to eat a meal and doesn’t think he’ll achieve his proper gains for the day.

Too bad.

Dixon’s face finally softens, the tenderness reminding me of the affection I’ve been depraved of in recent months. What I’ve been craving but pushed aside for everyone else’s benefit. The shitstorm I’ve been digging my way through has been a cold and lonely endeavor and Dixon’s warm expression has me almost running to him. Almost, because my legs are still a little wobbly after Beckett’s sweet and sour treatment. But I make it there anyway, falling into Dixon’s open arms.

I hear Beckett huff, “Fuck this, I’m out.”

Tiny pebbles from his back tire kick up as he peels out and a few pelt us as Dixon pulls away from me. A warm hand slides into mine while we watch Beckett fly out of the lot.

“That was odd. Who’s the drama queen?”

I grimace. “My roommate. He hates me.”

I’m not sure if it was at first sight or a gradual thing but the man can’t stand me. If he’s not scaring off possible hook-ups, he’s being a massive asshole. A masshole, really.

“Hmm, I’m not sure I believe that. What I saw out here didn’t look like hate. Although, I have found that hate sex is often the most passionate. So many feelings you don’t know what to do with, so many emotions you can’t voice, it all pours out into one intense,” he clears his throat and I scowl, “uh, session.”

I shove his arm, hiding my smirk. Session? So lame.

“So, roommate, huh? Did the Christensen gang meet him yet?”

“Not really.” I shrug. “I don’t spend a lot of time there and the boys, well, they haven’t been around much lately either.”

He grows serious as we turn for his bar. Xen’s is a combination of the end of his first name and the end of our last name. He really is like a brother.

“What do you know that I don’t, Dicky?”

Dixon tries to ruffle my hair but I knock him in the stomach, thwarting his attack. Some things never change.

“Keep it down. You’ll ruin my street cred.”

“You have no street cred.”

“Ha! Are those fumes killing your brain cells?” He nods over to my bike.

So what if she smokes a little? Don’t all true bad girls?

“I just know you’re all going through a difficult time right now. It’s hard seeing my second family suffer, especially from the outside. I’m not in the thick of it with you but it hurts just the same, I swear. I wish there was more I could do.”