Chapter 14 Lois #2
He sounds furious. He stops two feet away from me, scowling at the bike.
“What’s the problem, dude?” Ethan asks.
Lane ignores him. “What the fuck are you doing on this bike?”
“I… I was heading home,” I say quietly, as if I’d been busted by my parents.
His fists are clenched, his breathing ragged. There’s a crazed look in his eyes.
Jesus, what is wrong with this guy?
“What is going on?”
He points at me. “Get in the car.”
I raise my eyebrows and burst out laughing. “Are you for real?”
“Who do you think you are, talking to her like that?”
Ethan slips off his bike, puffing out his chest as he steps toward Lane.
I slide one foot to the ground, set my helmet down, and barely have time to blink before Lane’s hand grabs my arm, moving me to the side.
A moment later he’s pulled me behind him, still holding me tight, as if to protect me from serious danger.
“Get back on that piece of shit and get the fuck out of here,” he growls at Ethan.
His fingers are still digging into my skin, his hands shaking so hard, I can almost feel his pulse.
Ethan steps forward. “Let her go.”
“Lane, you’re hurting me,” I murmur as I try to wriggle free.
He looks down at my arm, and then up to my eyes, and what I see shining back at me knocks the breath from my lungs: pure rage, mixed in with fear.
His pupils are dilated, his eyes shimmering with a terror that I don’t understand.
His breath is coming hard between us, and I can’t hold back.
I place a hand on his cheek. His eyes are locked on mine.
The air between us has never been this charged.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“Go and wait for me in the car, Lois—”
“But I—”
“Please.”
It’s not an order. Not a suggestion. He’s begging me. There’s a knife twist to my gut.
“Okay.”
When he finally releases my arm, I take a step forward. Ethan is blocking my path.
“Lois?”
Lane pushes him back. The air reeks of testosterone.
“Lane, cut it out.” I yank on his jacket. “How about you get your ass over to the car!”
“You can’t—”
“Now!” I stamp my foot.
We stare each other down for a few long seconds, until finally he gives way. Before he leaves, Lane jabs a finger at my water aerobics instructor.
“She’s not getting on your bike, ever. I see this happen again, I’ll smash your fucking face in.”
On that note, Lane strides off, leaving me standing there rubbing my eyes and shaking my head.
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
“Is that your boyfriend?”
“No. Just a friend. I have no idea why he reacted like that.”
“Either he likes you, or he has a serious problem with this.” He nods at his bike.
I scoff, glancing over my shoulder. “Lane isn’t interested in me. I’m really sorry, this is so awkward. I hope you’re still okay with me coming to class…?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
I stiffen as he pulls me in for a hug, the blast of a car horn prompting me to step back.
“Well, see you Tuesday. Have a good evening. And sorry, again.”
He glances across the road. “You too.”
I stuff my frozen hands into my coat pockets and trot over to Lane’s car. Inside, I tug on my seat belt and turn to my driver, arms folded across my chest. Lane stares straight ahead, even when I clear my throat three times. I’m over waiting, so I decide to break the heavy silence.
“What the hell was that?”
My tone spurs him into action but not the way I planned. He turns on the ignition, revs his engine, and pulls out into the road.
“You better open that mouth of yours, or I’m getting out at the next corner.”
He breathes in, his gaze landing on mine. He opens his mouth wide. Just when I think he’s about to say something, he stops and presses his lips shut tight.
“Oh, I get it!” I slap my knee. “Hilarious.”
A traffic jam forces him to stop. Time to teach this guy a lesson and make good on my promise. I unbuckle my belt, yanking on the door handle, struggling to get it open. No matter how hard I try, it won’t budge.
“Unlock it!” I snarl.
But he doesn’t say a word. I end up giving up, deciding to sulk instead.
When we get to his building, I hop onto the sidewalk and spring up the stairs.
There’s no way he’s getting away with this!
I toss my bag by the couch and freeze in the middle of the living room waiting for him.
Stepping inside, Lane throws his keys on the table and vanishes down the hall that leads to his bedroom without giving me a second glance.
You have got to be kidding me.
“Is this a fucking joke?” I shout into the silence.
Fine. If he wants to play hardball, I’m game. My heels click as I make my way across the apartment, shoving open his bedroom door, wincing as it bangs against the wall. Lane is sitting in an armchair, elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders heaving like he just ran the whole way home.
“I demand an explanation! You embarrassed the hell out of me back there. If you think I’m going to let you off the hook that easily, think again, buddy.”
He keeps his eyes locked on the ground, tapping the floor with his foot. He reaches over to the desk to grab his headphones, shoving them over his ears. Before he can get his phone out and start the music, I whip the headphones off his head and toss them onto his bed.
“Ready when you are.” I cross my arms.
He gets up and scoots over to the mattress, reaching over the pillow for his headphones.
“If you think I’m giving up…” I huff, throwing myself down on the bed beside him and pinning him down with an elbow to his shoulder blade.
He growls and puts his palm against my cheek in an attempt to shove me off, but there’s no placating me, and we begin to tussle, him trying to push me off, me hopping forward and half landing on his back before scrambling over his head.
I’m this close to winning when Lane rolls over.
I grab his shoulder as I feel myself slipping sideways, but my back still slams into the ground—and then a heavy body crashes down on top of me, finishing the job.
“Help!” I choke out, gasping for air. The pressure eases a little, and as I widen my eyes, I see Lane’s face hovering right above me.
I try kicking my legs, but his are pinning mine down. With his hands cupping either side of my head, he stares down at me, brows drawn.
“I win,” he whispers, not moving an inch.
“No, I win,” I counter, scowling back at him.
“I’m on top, you’re on bottom. I definitely win.”
“I got you to speak, though.”
His mouth twists. I lift my hips, trying to shove him off. Correction: I manage a pathetic little wiggle, totally pinned by his weight.
“Get off me!” I gasp, breathless, squirming again.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk?”
“Not like this!”
He pushes up on his arms, lifting away from me, his smoldering eyes lingering down the length of my body.
A shiver ripples through me under the weight of his gaze, but I don’t have time to linger on the unease blooming in my chest. Lane jumps to his feet and falls back seated on the edge of his bed, his eyes never leaving mine.
He holds out a hand, and I take it, letting him pull me up.
I keep hold of his fingers, and his gaze.
Whatever it takes, I plan on getting to the truth. And he knows it.
“I didn’t know you were planning on picking me up,” I start, soft but deliberate, a quiet invitation.
“I didn’t know your instructor was the kind of guy to drive a student home.”
“I don’t see how that’s your problem, or any of your business, come to think of it.”
I didn’t say it aggressively, but Lane looks taken aback. He drops my hand and makes to reply, but changes his mind. Why is he so annoying?
“Why didn’t you call me?” he blurts out.
“When you let me stay on your couch, I promised I wouldn’t be a pain in the ass.”
“Gimme a break—we’re past that, and you know it.”
“I’m a big girl,” I offer, somewhat embarrassed.
“I’m not saying you’re not. I’m saying getting on a bike with a guy you barely know is stupidly dangerous.”
“Ethan is a nice guy—what’s your deal with him?”
“How can you be so fucking unaware?”
I don’t get why he’s being like this. Okay, so we’re not at each other’s throats every five minutes anymore, but still: it’s not like we’re friends or anything. Suddenly, it clicks.
“Wait a minute,” I gasp. “Are you actually saying you care about me?”
I’m stunned, and he looks just as shell-shocked.
“We’ve been living together for two months now,” he offers, like that explains it all.
“So?”
“So it makes sense that I’m looking out for you.”
“That would be kind of sweet, if it weren’t so controlling.”
“Controlling?”
“Any other rules involved in you ‘looking out for me’?”
He drifts off, lost in thought, and I have to snap my fingers in front of his face to bring him back to the present.
“As long as you live here, no more bikes,” he says darkly.
I definitely wasn’t expecting that. He sounds so ominous.
“What’s with the motorbike thing?” I’m not sure why I’m whispering.
He tenses up, and I watch as he recoils, like a snail shrinking back into his shell. I wait a few moments, but I can tell I won’t be getting anything more out of him.
I stand up and stalk out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
I slope into the kitchen without replying and fling open the cupboards, sorting through the food we bought this afternoon, grabbing what I need. I pluck up a knife on my way out and head straight back into the bedroom, climbing onto the mattress and propping myself against the headboard.
“Please tell me you don’t plan on eating that in my bed.” He stares at the brownie I’m prizing out of the packet.
“You eat on my bed literally every day!” I snap back, waving the knife at him. “As do your friends. So, yeah—I plan on eating this right here, right now.”
“What happened to all those good intentions?”
“What happened to you answering my questions?” I fire back.
He sighs, grabbing a box of tissues from his desk and tossing two my way as he shuffles over to join me on the bed.
“Eww! Get your jerk-off Kleenex away from me!”
“Excuse me?”
“My brothers have scarred me for life,” I explain.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re weird?”
“Shhh… Let me savor the moment.”
I inhale the sweet scent of mass-produced chocolate, and I’m salivating so hard I have to swallow. Then the long-awaited taste hits my tongue and explodes across my taste buds—and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. It’s the moan of a girl who’s just remembered what happiness tastes like.
“Holy hell,” I murmur with my eyes closed. “This is the best day of my life.”
When I open my eyes again, Lane is staring right at me.
“What?” I ask, mouth full.
“Nothing.”
“I cut you a piece, okay? Don’t try to act like I was planning to eat the whole tray by myself!” I shove a slice into his hand and grab a fresh slab, raising it up to him in a toast.
I nod at the pages littered across his desk. “How’s your script coming along?”
My changing subject throws him off. I can tell he’s surprised I’m not beating the point to death. What he doesn’t know is that my plan is actually to take the scenic route, and slowly but surely coax him into opening up some more.
“It’s not,” he replies. “I’ve been lacking inspiration lately, but Carter’s ruthless—he knows how to make sure I pull my weight.”
“You guys been friends since you were kids?”
I remember how Becca once told me he and Lane had known each other for ages, but I want him to talk to me about it. Or just talk to me about himself, period. He takes a deep breath in and shoots me a sideways glance. I can’t stop looking at his lips.
“Yeah.”
What a storyteller. I get the sense he wants to tell me more, but he’s shut down again, and though I’m a little disappointed, I don’t let it show. If there’s one thing living with him has taught me, it’s that you have to tread carefully with Lane.
“Want help?” I place the brownies on his bedside table.
“You’re offering to help me work on a porn movie?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Stop looking at me like I’m an old prude! Like I said, I have some pretty horny brothers. Let’s just say I know more than I’d like.”
“Sounds like there’s some kind of ulterior motive here.” He grins and shakes his head as he walks over to his desk. “If it were anyone else, Lois, I’d say you were coming on to me.”
“Yeah, well, it’s just little old me!” I singsong, settling deeper into my seat. “Your phone is buzzing, by the way,” I add as it lights up by my knee. “A certain April?”
I swipe up to check the photo on the screen. “Wait, I know her!” I say, outraged. “She’s the girl you brought home last month! Give me a heads-up if she’s coming over, I’ll sleep in your car.”
Lane stifles a laugh as he sits back down on the bed.
“She’s gorgeous,” I say flatly. “Life is so unfair. Aren’t you going to answer?”
“No.”
He grabs his phone and throws it at our feet, handing me a neatly written stack of notes.
“Read through this and see what we could add. But no girly stuff, Heartbreak—or you’re fired.”
“ ‘Fired’? Does that mean I’m getting paid?”
He shoots me a warning look, as if to say, You already live here rent-free, honey, and I duck behind the page to hide my face.
Part of me wonders if this whole porn-writing business has something to do with his spare bedroom.
It looked abandoned when I went in—almost staged, actually.
Who knows, maybe it’s his porn lair. Ew. Absolute disgrace.
And that’s how, without even realizing it’s happening, Lane and I end up spending the night working on his movie.
I’m not sure I’m much help with the writing—I burst out laughing way too often—but he doesn’t seem to mind, and as the evening stretches on, I can sense him relaxing more and more.
While I don’t get to the bottom of the whole motorbike thing, I decide to put it on the back burner for now.
I’m having way too much fun visualizing these totally unrealistic sex scenes, and the look on Lane’s face every time I make a suggestion is hilarious.
The hours fly by, and I don’t think of Kirk once—not even when my vision starts to blur and my tired body sinks deeper into the pillows. Right here, right now, the only thing I care about is softening the big, stubborn lump next to me. And I’m more resourceful than he thinks.