Authors: Lizzie Hart Stevens
Tags: #Contemporary, #Sports, #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary Fiction, #Romance
Fast Lane
Acknowledgements
To my hubby, my sons, and my parents, thank you for always supporting my dreams. I love you all more than words can say. To T, you were my first. *wink, wink* Thank you, Banana, for encouraging me, and pushing me to follow my heart. I am so lucky to have met you. You are going to do amazing things. Keep your head up, and keep kicking ass! You got this! To R, thank you for holding my hand and for all of the pep talks and wise words. And also for allowing me to annoy you daily with my newbie questions. Your motivation is what kept me pushing through the rough spots. To H, P, and C, what would I do without you three? Our daily chats and allowing me to bounce my crazy ideas off of you were much needed and appreciated. You are the most amazing cheerleaders a girl could ask for. Your friendships are so special to me.
I also want to thank Cindy and Shelly for answering my car questions.
Thank you to the ladies at Give Me Books Blog, you are amazing and I could not have done this without your kick ass promo skills!
Thank you to Renita, my Goodreads guru!
To J, you are becoming such a great friend and I am so thankful for your help and patience with me.
To my fellow Bookalicious Babes, thank you for encouraging me, promoting me, and throwing my amazing party!
To Willa and Mallory, thank you for being there for me and for your random messages to ask how things were going. They truly meant a lot to me. You are such great friends to me!
Thank you to the editors for cleaning up after me.
Thank you to Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs for making my baby so pretty!
To Sophie, thank you for all of your help and for my Hart-Beats. You are awesome.
And last, but certainly not least, a great big thank you to Marika, Clayr, Jay Jay and the rest of the Hart-Beats for sharing the Fast Lane love. Please know that if I left anyone out, it was not intentional.
Copyright© 2015 Lizzie Hart Stevens
Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Formatting by Cassy Roop of
Pink Ink Designs
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Except for the original material written by the author, all songs and song titles mentioned in the book
Fast Lane are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
“WHAT THE FUCK, LEX?”
Patrick snaps at me as he walks into the house, slamming the door behind him. I’m sitting on the couch, reading the latest book from my favorite author, when he comes over and rudely interrupts me.
“What did I do now, Patrick?” I say, rolling my eyes. He walks up to me and grabs my face, one hand under my chin. He squeezes both of my cheeks, hard, and simultaneously pulls me to my feet. I am so close to him, my face less than an inch from his. It hurts, but instead of saying anything I grit my teeth and stare directly into his cold, gray eyes. I refuse to let him know he is causing me pain.
“For starters, babe, you took up the entire driveway with that piece of shit Ford of yours, and I had to park my Porsche on the curb. And if you roll your eyes at me again, you’re going to wish you hadn’t.” He pushes me away from him, finally letting go of my face. My car is actually pretty new and top of the line, it’s just not his taste, so he deems it garbage.
“Jesus, Patrick, all you had to do was ask me to move my car. How was I supposed to know you were coming over? You didn’t call or text.” I massage my jaw as I turn and head into the kitchen. He inhales slowly, stretching his neck from side to side, and throws himself onto the couch.
“Bring me a beer while you’re in there,” He shouts at me from the living room.
Patrick is going to start drinking, we’re going to have horrible, boring-as-hell sex, and then he’s going to pass out and hog my entire bed all night. That’s just what I need after working all day. I reluctantly grab him a beer from the fridge and walk back into the living room.
I need to think of a way to get him out of here
.
Handing it to him, I slouch down onto the couch. As he takes the beer from my hand, he sets it down on the coffee table and pulls me closer to him. With his left arm wrapped around me, he lightly brushes my cheek, urging me to look at him.
“I’m sorry, Lexi. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” Patrick slides his hand under my shirt and kneads my breast. While he’s kissing his way down my neck he says, “You can just go move the cars after I get my fill of you.”
Oh, lucky me.
“On second thought, just move
your
car. I can’t have you scratching the Porche.” He continues to fondle my breasts with his weak attempt at foreplay. I can’t do this anymore. I need a reason to get him to back off tonight.
“Patrick, we can’t tonight. I’m on my period.”
That’s the best I could come up with?
It works, I guess, because as soon as the words are out of my mouth he backs away in a huff. Little does he know, I was actually on my period last week. I’m running out of excuses. Fast.
AS I DRIVE DOWN
the winding, tree-lined highway, I make a decision that I should have made months ago: it’s time to break up with Patrick.
When we first met, I was attracted to his soft gray eyes and lush, kissable lips. His muscular body wasn’t bad, either. His only downside? He has a crazy temper. It took a little time for him to show his true self. He would be totally sweet with me one minute, and the next thing I knew, he’d be spazzing out over something as small as not using a coaster under my glass of ice water. I just left him in a rush with some made-up story about getting called in to work tonight. I only said that so he would let me leave. Which is ridiculous. I shouldn’t need an excuse to leave my own house.
While I got dressed, he kept rambling on and on and on about himself, his band, and his precious car. I’m all for taking good care of your vehicle, but he treats his like it’s worth millions and made out of solid gold or something. Sure, it’s nice, and I mean,
it
is
a chrome-colored 2014 Porsche 918 Spyder. It’s an expensive car, but at the end of the day, it is still a car. Patrick’s parents own a chain of successful car dealerships and they’ve always given him anything he wants. I’d hoped he could find something else to talk about. Like, why not ask me about
my
life once in a while?
I flick the blinker and make a right turn toward downtown. I’m not sure where I’m going yet, but I had to get out of the house.
Am I doing the right thing? Is Patrick going to flip out and go off the deep end when he realizes I’m seriously done? Maybe. But I can’t be with him forever. No freaking way. That’s why I’ve decided to end this now. I’ll save him from heartbreak later on, and save myself from the torture of dealing with his crazy mood swings.
I push the talk button on my steering wheel. “Call Brea.” After a few rings, she picks up.
“Hey, girl. What’s up?”
“Hey, Brea, are you free tonight?” I ask.
“Sure am. Wanna meet up for dinner and drinks at Mary Jane’s?” She sounds excited to hear from me. Brea and I have been best friends since the day we met in first grade. We used to climb up to the top of the climbing dome on the playground and scope out all the cute boys together. Although we didn’t realize it until years later, she always seemed to go for the well-behaved, smart, preppy guys, while I had a thing for the bad boys.
“Yes, please. That would be perfect.”
“You okay, chick?” Brea asks, her voice laced with concern.
“Um…yeah. I’ll be better than ever soon. My best gal pal, a juicy burger from Mary Jane’s, and a few whiskey sours should do the trick.”
I make one last left turn onto Brea’s street.
“Sounds good. Shall I call us a cab? You know, just in case you need a few more whiskey sours than you think,” she giggles.
“You know me so well. What would I do without you, Brea?”
“Let’s hope we never have to worry about that.” I’m pretty sure I can hear her smile through the phone.
“See you in just a second.”
“Calling the cab now—I’ll have them pick us up in thirty minutes.”
I push ‘end call’ as I pull into her driveway and park.
Brea opens the door just as I’m walking up to her front steps. Her gorgeous, sandy brown curls are pulled up into a perfect ponytail, and her hazel eyes are highlighted by just a touch of makeup. “All right. Spill it, Lex. What’s going on?”
I walk inside and Brea shuts the door behind me. I toss my purse onto her dark cherry wood kitchen table and walk into the living room. She can always tell I’m upset, even if I think I’ve hidden it. I sink down onto the couch and run my hands over my face. “I’m going to break up with Patrick.”
“What? Why? What happened? What did he do? Did he hurt you? I thought he was head over heels for you?” She’s shooting questions at me rapid fire.
“He is. I’m just tired of his crazy mood swings. I can’t handle it any more. He’s like a ticking time bomb.”
Brea walks over and sits down on the dark blue suede chair that’s off to the left of her couch. She looks at me with concern in her eyes. “You’re right, sweetie. You don’t need that shit,” she says.
“Plus, I don’t feel that spark that everyone always says you’re supposed to feel when you’re with ‘the one’. He needs to find someone that is willing to put up with his bullshit attitude,” I say, combing my hands through my hair.