Lane Assignments

Chapter Two/ Three

I'm finding my pencil eraser quite fascinating. It's perfectly round and pink, unspoiled with no mistakes to correct... yet. I draw a little design at the top of my paper. A plump little heart, wings springing out of each side, six little feathers on each one...

"...the right decision, Anastasia?"

Shit. I look up at the sound of my name. And I see those those gray eyes... the same eyes that were peering up from between my thighs last night. Coach Grey was just lowering his mouth to have a little taste when I woke up, feeling cheated and... horny. "I'm sorry, I was just making notes," I lie, scrubbing out the little heart with my eraser. "Can you please repeat the question?"

"I was asking if you feel that Elizabeth made the right decision?"

The right decision about what? Fuck.

He clears his throat, glancing around the room. "We were just discussing Darcy's marriage proposal to Elizabeth. And if she made the right decision in accepting it."

Oh, thank God I know Pride and Prejudice like the back of my hand. "Yes, I mean... even if Lady Catherine felt that their backgrounds and ages were too different, they had genuine feelings for each other. And if Elizabeth and Darcy are in love, nothing else should matter."

"So you feel that love should prevail? Even when the odds are stacked against the lovers? That they should... cross the line, so to speak?"

"Yes, I do," I say, and hold his gaze until he looks away. He moves on to his next victim, a senior named Tyler who appears to have fallen asleep. I sink down in my chair and return to examining my pencil eraser.

The pink perfection is gone, one side of it rubbed off and misshapen, smudged with black. It's tainted, and it will never be the same.

Like me.

Ray found a therapist for me, one that specializes in sexual abuse. She's a nice lady, but the things she's telling me? They're things I already know. Don't blame yourself... Don't blame your mother... Having flashbacks are a normal part of the healing process... But the one thing I can't bring myself to talk about?

As if on cue, Tyler asks to use the bathroom - in a desperate move to escape Coach's scalding gaze, no doubt - and his hip brushes against my arm as he walks past. A shiver runs through my body like an electric current, and not in a good way. Shit! This is not normal.

=/=/=/=

Chapter Three

Friday night, Kate and I camp out on my bed with piles of glossy magazines spread out between us, covering my blue and white quilt.

"Oooh... look at this one," croons Kate, shoving her magazine on top of mine. It's a double-page spread of prom dresses, all in silver, but each one is a different style.

"Which one?" I ask, feigning interest. Shopping and dresses are not my thing.

With one perfectly manicured finger, she points to the shortest and tightest dress. Of course.

"Kate, I don't even think there's any fabric... it's just sequins. And you won't be able to bend over in it without flashing your panties!"

"Who says I'll be wearing panties?" Kate teases. She just says these sorts of things to make me blush. Despite her potty mouth and flirty nature, I know that Kate is still a virgin. I think she's gotten close, done other things, but hasn't gone all the way. Yet.

"Gross!" I squeal, shoving her magazine back onto her side of the bed. "Keep your trashy dresses on your side."

I pick up my LSU course catalog again, examining the 300-level English classes. "Oh, they have an entire course dedicated to the iambic pentameter... that's interesting."