Page 28 of Fast Lane

Our eyes meet, both of us daring the other one to bring up the unspoken kiss we shared. Neither of us budge and eventually I shake my head. “Nothing.” I move away from her and towards the counter. I reach inside the bag and hand her a bagel. “I wasn’t sure what you eat normally so I went with savory and sweet. I hope that’s okay. Oh, and an iced caramel latte.”

She takes the bagel and coffee before stepping ten feet back. “Thanks bagel boy.” Kosi’s words throw me off. They sound slightly harsh but surely, she isn’t mad at me.

I take a seat and watch as she does too, but far enough away from me that she’s clearly marking a territory line. I can’t help myself. “Bagel boy?”

“Yeah, can’t mistake you for prince charming so I guess bagel boy is as good as anything, right?” she glares at me from over her bagel.

For a moment I just stand there. This is the Kosi I’m used to. This I can work with. Everything about last night was insane. Kosi and I were never right or meant to be and if we were it was enemies. “Definitely not your prince charming. Then again, I’m sure even he could do something wrong.”

Kosi scoffs. “Maybe, you should try and do something right for a change.”

That mutual irritation we have always felt around one another is back and raging inside me. I let it ride. Before I know it, the words are slipping out of my mouth. “I’ll be sure to go ask Colby for some tips and guidance.”

At the mention of his name her face falls. Instantly, I feel like an ass and I hate that I let myself go there. I don’t know how or why they ended things but that was an unnecessary low blow even for us. “I think I’ll start a different day. I don’t feel so well.” She’s out of her seat and to the front door in no time. I’m mentally kicking myself. How can things change so quickly? I woke up this morning wanting to repeat last night and now we’re farther apart than ever.

Twenty-Five

Kosi

I don’t return to Free Fall for a few days. The wound that Roscoe threw salt into wouldn’t allow it. I have no right to be upset with him. I started it with him that day. He, of course, shot back but I fired first. His words just hit home on a level I didn’t expect. Then again, nothing about that morning had gone like I expected. I truly thought he would want to kiss me again. In all honesty I had wanted him to kiss me again. Then when we ran into each other, no space between us, and his hand on my back, it felt like the perfect time but then nothing happened. I realized he was going to ignore our kiss as much as he did the almost kiss. That stung so of course my defenses went right back into place. I felt foolish for even letting the kiss happen after that. Giving us space seemed necessary. If he was going to ignore the kiss then I needed to as well. However, that’s easier said than done. Especially, when he looks so good and all I can think about is kissing him again. By the time I ran out of Free Fall and made it back to my car, I was so glad Baylor had made me change clothes before coming here. She was right. I was trying too hard.

Roscoe’s comment about Colby, though, is what had been the absolute worst. He doesn’t know how much I blame myself for the demise of our relationship. I know I caused that. Colby was pretty much prince charming and I had taken that for granted. It was foolish of me because now here I was finding myself attracted to Roscoe, of all people, and he was off getting married.

Doing the facelift for Free Fall is still something I really want to do but it’s hard with Roscoe around. So, Wyatt showed up at Rowdy’s last night and gave me a copy of the key. When I had asked him about it he told me that Roscoe had asked him to give it to me. Luckily, my smile didn’t falter as I took the key from him. I’m surprised it didn't, considering that Roscoe was basically telling me he didn’t even want to see me. I guess I should have seen it coming.

Regardless, Free Fall is getting its facelift. Since I actually get off at a decent time tonight, I head home, change, and head straight there. It takes me a bit to get set up but I manage to get all the paint inside and the old sheets laid down to protect the floor. Just because I’m redoing the place doesn’t mean I need to be messy. Grabbing my phone, I turn on some angry girl rock music.Some of my favorite bands come on and I’m really lost in the music and painting. It’s kind of therapeutic. At least until I hear the chuckle come from behind me in the middle of belting out a wild part while swinging my hair around.

I spin around so quickly that I lose my balance and I know I’m fixing to go face first into the floor, at least until a set of arms wrap around my waist and save me. A fire ignites in my stomach where his arms are resting and he hauls me to my feet. His cologne is all I can smell, even over the fresh paint. “Whoa there,” he says. His mouth is so close to my ear that his warm breath dances over my skin causing me to break out in goosebumps. Once I’m firmly back on the ground he asks. “Are you okay?”

My head nods because I’m scared to speak. Finally, I say, “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks to you.”

“Well, I’m not sure that was your brightest idea.”

Slowly, I turn around. Heat flooding my cheeks. When I look up Roscoe is standing there just looking at me. His hair is damp like he just went swimming or got out of the shower. Based on how good he smells I’d say shower. The gray muscle tank hugs his body. No wonder the girls drool over him. He has on a pair of gray camo shorts and flip flops. He looks so different from what I’m used to. Quickly, I look away and come face to face with the ladder I was just on. I point at it. “Yeah, head banging on a ladder was a very poor decision. Definitely ill advised.”

Roscoe shrugs. “We’re all allowed some ill-advised fun from time to time.” Something tells me that's something he knows plenty about. I wrap my arms around myself before I realize the music is still blaring. For a moment I worry someone called the cops because of the music and that’s why Roscoe is here. Then I remember there’s no one around for miles so that’s doubtful. After turning the music down, he speaks again. “I take it you’re not working at Rowdy’s tonight.”

“I already did. I just got lucky and actually got off at the time I was scheduled. Since I had some free time, I figured I’d better come and work on some of this. I’ve slacked enough. The owner probably thinks I’m a total flake,” I tell him with a roll of my eyes. I am pretty disappointed in myself and how I've handled this whole situation. My father would be so upset with me.

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think that. Actually, you’re the least flaky person he knows so I’d say you’re good.” He gives me a small smile. Roscoe Langston actually seems nervous. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Seeing Roscoe nervous is such an odd sight. Something I definitely never thought I’d see.

I know he’s just humoring me. The owner doesn’t know me so he doesn’t know how hardworking I can be or how much pride I take in my work. All he’s seen so far is me not fulfilling my end of the job. “I’ll make sure to stay on it.” Roscoe nods his head then silence follows after that. Finally, I ask, “So, what are you doing here?”

“I’m not sure. I was home and restless, so I thought I’d come out here. Maybe, organize something or look over paperwork,” he explains as he stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his shorts. My mind takes that as code for ‘wanting to be alone’. I turn around and turn the music off. “What are you doing?”

“What?”

He closes the space between us. “Why did you turn the music off?”

I look down at my phone then back at him. “So, I can get out of your hair. You have stuff you need to do. I don’t want to be in the way.”

For a moment, he just stares down at me. His expression is unreadable, but it catches the oxygen in my throat. “You are never in the way, Kosi.”

I hate our hot and cold routine lately. Usually, we’re just as cold as Antarctica but lately it’s like global warming has hit us as much as the planet. My heart stumbles around in my chest like it’s drunk, and maybe it is. His words seem to have that effect on me lately. Intoxicating me in a way no one ever has. “I really don’t mind,” I admit.

He looks around the room. At least half of the back wall is primed for painting. “Actually, how about I help you paint.”

Quickly, I look down at my clothes as everything seems to become clear again. My ridiculously large, thin, black t-shirt hangs to mid-thigh completely covering my khaki shorts underneath and I’m barefoot. I didn’t want to get my sandals dirty. I look like a mess. “I don’t mind the help but I don’t want you to ruin your clothes.”

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