“I left a souvenir in your car,” she purrs, pressing herself into me.
“Smart move.”
I grapple for my keys with my other hand and throw open the door, watching as it batters the hallway wall, kicking it shut with my heel as April carries on, sucking my tongue.
The living room is pitch black. My hands are on her ass, sliding her skirt up over her hips. She’s so wet my fly is soaked through. My head is spinning. All I can think about is the sweet moment I finally get to slide into her. I’m not thinking straight, and that’s really too bad. Because just as I lay April down on my couch, I forget it’s already taken.
10LOIS
The dream I’m having is amazing. I’m strolling along a golden beach, in front of me is a man running by the water’s edge. In my mind, it’s Kirk, even though the body and dark hair look more like Lane, which I’m kind of frustrated about. I hear a door slam somewhere in the distance, and a faraway giggle as sand fills the space between my toes. I feel good. I keep my distance from the lapping waves, and that’s weird, because I suddenly feel like my feet are wet. The landscape retreats farther into the distance, the sun is fading, I can feel something pressing into me, and…
“Ow!” I scream as a weight crushes my ankles.
A whine stirs me from sleep. “There’s someone on the couch!”
“Ya think?” I mutter, slowly coming to my senses.
“Shit,” Lane breathes out. “I forgot about her…”
I blink to clear my vision, and I can see the outline of a girl’s face frozen in shock and Lane fumbling with his pants. Suddenly, I’m blinded by light, and as my eyes refocus, I can’t believe what I’m seeing: a leggy girl standing by the couch, tugging her skirt down over her ass. My toes are glistening in the half-dark, and as I look from them to her and back again, it all falls into place. My feet are soaked, and it has nothing to do with my seaside dream.
“Oh. My. God!”
I jolt off the couch, nearly slipping, and start hopping in place.
“Come on, Lois. Don’t be so dramatic,” Lane mutters.
My mouth drops open.Screw the gratitude.
“Dramatic? Are you fucking kidding me, Lane?” I screech.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” his hookup snaps, whipping around to glare at him. “Is she your girlfriend, Lane?”
“Wow, she’s not my girlfriend,” Lane blurts with his hands raised.
“He’sabsolutelynot my boyfriend,” I snap.
“Hey!” Lane looks actually offended.
The girl looks between us, then shakes her head. “You guys are messed up.” She snatches her bag off the floor. “Enjoy your little domestic disaster!” And with that, she storms out, slamming the door behind her.
As soon as she’s gone, I hiss, “Imagine if I were lying the other way around! I could have suffocated!”
Ignoring me, Lane throws himself on the couch with a frustrated groan. “Thanks for ruining my night, by the way.”
“You’re very welcome! I’m going to go wash my feet now. Actually, you know what?” I correct myself. “I’m going to bleach them. Maybe I’ll even cut them off!”
I shuffle carefully to the bathroom so I don’t slip, step into the shower, and turn the water on. Who cares if it’s still icy cold? I need to scrub that gunk off my toes.
“Unbelievable.” I shake my head.
I grab Lane’s shower gel and empty it without a second thought. I am usually careful not to use his stuff, but this time, he got what was coming to him.
When I step out a few minutes later, I decide to grab one of his towels. It barely reaches mid-thigh but it’ll do. NowayI’m using one of the only two towels I own for this.
“I can’t find the bleach, but how about these?” I hear him drawl from behind me. “Make sure you get a clean cut around the ankle.”
I jerk upright, clutching the towel for dear life. Lane is leaning against the sink, a knife in either hand.
