Splashing Between the Lanes

Chapter 7

I pulled into the driveway and sat for a minute. I could feel the darkness as it began to set in, swallowing me whole from my seat while the events of the day sank in. I pulled my phone out. Once again, Id remembered that Tori and I were texting. I looked at the message and the complications of my situation filled me all over again. Tell me how it goes, the first read, and another had quietly come in nearly thirty minutes later. Did you do it? Text me. I could sense her anticipation pouring through the phone. It was mindboggling.

I looked at the time and nearly half an hour had passed since her questions had come through. I pushed the phone deep into my pocket and opened the car door. I could tell that all of the lights were off inside, except for Treys room on the opposite side of the house. I hopped out of my seat, sprinted to the door and inside as fast as I could turn the key. That trip to the door at night never got less scary to me.

The kitchen was quiet when I stepped inside. There wasnt the slightest whiff of food in the air; looked like Mom didnt cook tonight. I flipped the light switch on to scope the room out. I looked over to the stove; there was a Boston Market bag lying there half closed. I tipped over to it. I slid the plastic bag open, and there were two, medium-sized chicken pieces, macaroni and cheese, and potatoes with gravy inside, untouched. I knew it had to be mine, because those were my usual picks any time wed go there. I was surprised, though, at how dead-on theyd managed to be since the no-cheese concept on my burgers still hadnt stuck.

I shuffled over to the microwave and stuffed the plastic box inside, setting a full minute on the clock. A long, low grumble drew from my stomach. I realized I would never make it through that, so I settled for a more reasonable forty-five seconds instead.

I yanked the door open at the six, burst the fork through the plastic wrap, dug a chunk of the gravy-smothered potatoes from one side of the perfectly rounded circle in the pocket, and dashed up the stairs. I licked my fingers clean of the chicken grease as I cleaned the bones and ate until my stomach belted at me to stop.

I jumped in the shower immediately after, which lasted no longer than the length of time necessary to get a good cleanse from my day. I scrubbed at the succeeded temptation of Kendalls touch, washing away the course of her persuasion. I rubbed at the lust of Karas enticement, trailing the path of her lips, before washing it from my neck. And when I got out, I checked my phone. I found only messages from Tori, so I plugged it into the wall next to my head and closed my eyes.

The next morning, I knew I would have to face the wrath of Toris curiosity and after class, her gaze wrapped me instantly. She walked right up to me, carrying all of her unanswered questions from the prior night on her face. Sooo..., she muttered, tersely cocking her head to the side with emphasis.

In no way had I prepared myself to tell her of my failure. Instead, I gave her the story of my actual dealings, which had actually felt more like the makings of a make-up rather than a breakup. If only Kendall had a clue about all of the things going on in my head.

I didnt know where to start, but a smile was my initial reaction to her dramatics. Sooo, I dragged out, imitating the hysterics of her expression, I didnt exactly tell her.

I pulled my eyes away from hers in mid-confession. My smile deepened.

Well, that doesnt surprise me, she said, turning to the hall. Then she turned back. So, then yall are good? she asked.

We are... I paused, looking at the ceiling, searching for something good to say; anything besides what Id obviously had on myself.

Yall had sex, and you still feel bad about breaking it off, Tori chimed in impatiently.

Ugh. My shoulders and head flung forward in one motion. She knew me so well. Shed probably known it last night while it was happening. Its harder than you think; its complicated. Were complicated. I dont know what to do, I snapped. I felt defeated.