Page 13 of The Jellybean Dilemma

Yep, and using your lap as a pillow, thank you very much. My cheeks warmed as I started to move.

“While you’re down there”—he paused, and my mind raced, absolutely raced to a million dirty things—“could you grab my pack of gum? I dropped it while you were sleeping.”

My heart skittered back into a normal rhythm while I chastised myself. What am I thinking? Did I honestly think that Greg, who couldn’t even bear to look at my shirt plastered to my chest, would casually ask me to suck his dick? I chuckled at the idea.

The pack of gum rested between his feet, within easy reach. All I had to do was anchor my hand on his thigh and reach down with my other. Except, as I started to lean, he slammed on the brakes again.

I jolted forward, my head smacking into the steering column. His hand darted from my shoulder to keep me from flying off the seat, my lap belt holding my lower half in place. I managed to brace myself against the floor, but my hand on his thigh slipped. We skidded to a stop. All around I heard screeching tires, horns and squealing brakes. At least there wasn’t any crunching metal or crashes.

After a few deep breaths, I assessed myself and my position, realizing I was okay. Other than my hand now rested on Greg’s dick while his cupped my left breast. We hurried to let go at the same time, awkward silence hovering between as I sat up.

“Brings a new meaning to tit for tat, huh?” I couldn’t help but joke.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at his lap. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

My cheeks were hot, but it was better than never addressing the incident by shoving it under the proverbial rug. “Yep. I think we’ll start a new trend.” We both chuckled, though it sounded a little stilted. Then I held out the package I’d retrieved from the floor. “Gum?”

Genuine laughter erupted from him, and I couldn’t help joining in. After taking a piece, he slid it into his mouth, stuffing the wrapper into his pocket. “How’s your head?”

I gingerly touched the spot I’d hit, just above my hairline. “Tender, but no lumps. I’ll live, thanks to my live-action seat belt.” I added a teasing grin, warmth spreading through me when he smiled back. “What happened anyway?”

Greg shrugged. “Not sure. I saw brake lights and realized everyone was stopping.” He shifted in his seat, trying to peer around the large semi-truck in front of us.

Traffic began inching forward with the steady pace of a determined snail. Greg frowned. “Can you see any mile markers or exit signs?”

We were in the right lane, so I rolled down the window, wincing at the cold wind blowing in my face as I stuck my head out. “There’s an exit too far up, but I can’t tell what it says.”

He pulled out his phone, bringing up the map. “How do you feel about stopping for lunch?”

* * * *

The gum snapping hostess trailed a long, red nail over her seating chart. I surveyed the crowded diner, realizing everyone must have had the same idea of avoiding traffic with a late lunch. The hostess tilted her blonde head for us to follow her. She led us to a table that jutted against the wall with a one-sided booth facing it. Her eyebrows lifted, as if daring us to complain.

Greg glanced at me. “Is this all right?”

I almost hyperventilated as I pictured being crowded against that wall. “If you don’t mind sitting inside.”

He nodded, scooching along the hard plastic booth. His forehead furrowed as he waited for me to follow.

“I’m going to hit the bathroom first.” I hurried off.

It wasn’t much, smaller than most closets. I opened the door, dreading the tight space. But nature called, so I gritted my teeth, pulling the door shut behind me. I pretended I was home, in my own bathroom with its wide-open floorplan and big windows.

The narrow walls didn’t give me much room to maneuver. As I washed my hands, the room closed in. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pictured being anywhere else while I struggled to keep my breathing normal.

I hurried to dry my clean hands on a rough paper towel then reached for the door handle. But it didn’t open immediately. A similar memory of a tighter closet and a darker space threatened to overwhelm me as I jiggled the handle, desperate to get out. The walls zoomed in, my heart raced, and all moisture left my mouth.

When the lock gave way, I stumbled into the hallway where I leaned against the wall for several moments. I looked anywhere but at the bathroom as I sucked in deep, gulping breaths.

What had my therapist said to do? Count backward from ten. I tried that, twice. Then I focused on my surroundings, using my other senses of smell and sound to ground me. I was okay, I told myself over and over.

My heart at last began returning to a normal rhythm. Greg would be wondering what had happened to me, so I shoved the remains of the panic aside. Shaky legs carried me down the hall, as I walked back to the table.

Greg glanced up at me over his menu, then he did a double take. “You all right?”

It was all I could do not to collapse into the booth, but I managed to keep my distance, perching on the edge. My palms were damp as I rested my hands on the cool table.

“You’ll fall off, if you’re not careful.”

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