hear straight up. Thanks.”
“I love ya, Laney. Don’t be mad at me, but don’t ask
for my advice if you don’t want it.”
“God, if that isn’t the truth,” I scoff loudly. “You’re
harsh, but right. That’s why you’re my number one advisor. I’m not mad, I
swear. Now go coach! I’ll talk to ya later.”
“Later, Laney.”
I hang up and stare out my windshield, pondering.
Zach is right, I’m being a selfish bitch. Sure, I hate Whitley and would rather
Evan engaged in orgies than in her, but he’s absolutely justified in doing
whatever he wants. I start my truck, headed nowhere on gas I can’t afford to
waste, and drive until I make about a two mile circle twice, finally pulling
into the very back of my dorm parking lot, hiding my truck as well as possible
between a big dually and the dumpsters.
I lay down across my seat so no one will see me just
sitting alone in a parking lot and pull my phone out of my pocket, because no
pity party is complete without music, right? I let the music take over, my
thoughts drifting aimlessly, to nowhere in particular, on a whim. Wouldn’t it
be nice if life was like that? But it’s not. Every action has a reaction, a
consequence, for which the collector will one day come to get your toll. I made
a choice, one I don’t regret on every single level, yet feel remorse for in my
every pore. Like a fool, I thought it’d all be fine, that I could hide behind
the miles between us, in my Dane bliss, like a heartless wench. But the toll collector
came a callin’.
Evan is here, and yet, I miss him more than ever.
Yes, this is the part where everyone around me screams, “If that whiny bitch
double dips or flip-flops again, I’m gonna kick her ass myself!” Not what I’m
doing. I love Dane, completely and unashamedly, and I’m not walking away from
him, no matter what…but I have to fix my core, the basis of a lifetime of
events that made me me , and that core is Evan and Laney, the best kind
of friends.
When “I Never Told You” by Colbie Caillat starts
playing, I decide it’s a sickly, ironic sign that I’ve wallowed in a pool of
self-pity long enough and get up. I climb out and wrap my arms around myself,
shuffling slowly to my room.
“ W here you been, baby?”
Dane, of course, is looking perfectly beautiful, a
crisp white dress shirt untucked over dark wash jeans and “I dare ya to mess it
up more” hair, and waiting in my dorm room when I slug inside.
“Flag football practice,” I mutter, sitting on the
edge of the bed to pull off my cleats and socks, shrugging off my jacket as
well. When he doesn’t answer, I look up at him to find a scowl. “What?”
His arms cross over his chest and he widens his
stance, though I don’t think he knows he did it. “Oh yeah? How’d it go?”
He knows I’m hiding something. Decision time—fess up
or roll with it? The latter is a horrible idea considering I suspect Dane
really does have a Laney crystal ball tucked away somewhere, but you know
me….daredevil. “It went good; I think we’ll win.” Of course we’ll win, we’re
the freaking softball team for crying out loud! The intimidation factor alone
is worth a touchdown.
His arms drop and he stalks my way, bending over me,
forcing me to lay back on the bed. “That your final answer?” he growls.
Speaking of holy hotness intimidation factor… I
swallow hard and mentally chastise my libido before looking up at his gorgeous
face and answering him in a quivering voice. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he runs his nose the length of mine, blanketing
our bodies together, “that I don’t like it when you lie to me.”
That bossy mouth of his skims my jaw, his teeth
taking little nips along the way until he’s sucking right below my ear. Oh
yeah, he knows all the weak spots to elicit a confession and he’s hitting them
all just right.
“You don’t play fair,” I moan, pulling my legs up to
rest my feet on the mattress, tightening my knees
“I love ya, Laney. Don’t be mad at me, but don’t ask
for my advice if you don’t want it.”
“God, if that isn’t the truth,” I scoff loudly. “You’re
harsh, but right. That’s why you’re my number one advisor. I’m not mad, I
swear. Now go coach! I’ll talk to ya later.”
“Later, Laney.”
I hang up and stare out my windshield, pondering.
Zach is right, I’m being a selfish bitch. Sure, I hate Whitley and would rather
Evan engaged in orgies than in her, but he’s absolutely justified in doing
whatever he wants. I start my truck, headed nowhere on gas I can’t afford to
waste, and drive until I make about a two mile circle twice, finally pulling
into the very back of my dorm parking lot, hiding my truck as well as possible
between a big dually and the dumpsters.
I lay down across my seat so no one will see me just
sitting alone in a parking lot and pull my phone out of my pocket, because no
pity party is complete without music, right? I let the music take over, my
thoughts drifting aimlessly, to nowhere in particular, on a whim. Wouldn’t it
be nice if life was like that? But it’s not. Every action has a reaction, a
consequence, for which the collector will one day come to get your toll. I made
a choice, one I don’t regret on every single level, yet feel remorse for in my
every pore. Like a fool, I thought it’d all be fine, that I could hide behind
the miles between us, in my Dane bliss, like a heartless wench. But the toll collector
came a callin’.
Evan is here, and yet, I miss him more than ever.
Yes, this is the part where everyone around me screams, “If that whiny bitch
double dips or flip-flops again, I’m gonna kick her ass myself!” Not what I’m
doing. I love Dane, completely and unashamedly, and I’m not walking away from
him, no matter what…but I have to fix my core, the basis of a lifetime of
events that made me me , and that core is Evan and Laney, the best kind
of friends.
When “I Never Told You” by Colbie Caillat starts
playing, I decide it’s a sickly, ironic sign that I’ve wallowed in a pool of
self-pity long enough and get up. I climb out and wrap my arms around myself,
shuffling slowly to my room.
“ W here you been, baby?”
Dane, of course, is looking perfectly beautiful, a
crisp white dress shirt untucked over dark wash jeans and “I dare ya to mess it
up more” hair, and waiting in my dorm room when I slug inside.
“Flag football practice,” I mutter, sitting on the
edge of the bed to pull off my cleats and socks, shrugging off my jacket as
well. When he doesn’t answer, I look up at him to find a scowl. “What?”
His arms cross over his chest and he widens his
stance, though I don’t think he knows he did it. “Oh yeah? How’d it go?”
He knows I’m hiding something. Decision time—fess up
or roll with it? The latter is a horrible idea considering I suspect Dane
really does have a Laney crystal ball tucked away somewhere, but you know
me….daredevil. “It went good; I think we’ll win.” Of course we’ll win, we’re
the freaking softball team for crying out loud! The intimidation factor alone
is worth a touchdown.
His arms drop and he stalks my way, bending over me,
forcing me to lay back on the bed. “That your final answer?” he growls.
Speaking of holy hotness intimidation factor… I
swallow hard and mentally chastise my libido before looking up at his gorgeous
face and answering him in a quivering voice. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he runs his nose the length of mine, blanketing
our bodies together, “that I don’t like it when you lie to me.”
That bossy mouth of his skims my jaw, his teeth
taking little nips along the way until he’s sucking right below my ear. Oh
yeah, he knows all the weak spots to elicit a confession and he’s hitting them
all just right.
“You don’t play fair,” I moan, pulling my legs up to
rest my feet on the mattress, tightening my knees
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