Page 51 of Stay in Your Lane!

“Yes!”

“Are you sure? Because if you don’t…”

Above me, the actual machinery started to turn, the noise deafening as the wind from the turning equipment whipped at my hair and clothes. I didn’t know how close any of it was to actually hitting me, just that it was too fucking close.

All at once, it stopped, and once again, the machine was back to its rumbling idle.

Through my ringing ears came the question, “Am I clear, Kyle?”

“Yes!” I flattened myself as much as I could, struggling to breathe as he pressed down harder on my back. “I won’t touch anything! I promise!”

“Good.”

The machine quieted. The whole place was still and silent again except for my labored breathing.

The foot left my back, then slammed hard into my side, turning my vision red and white. I curled in on myself as muchas this position allowed, trying to find my breath through the pain.

When my vision and mind cleared, I shakily backed the rest of the way out from the machine. I sat up and looked around.

The man with the Air Force 1s was gone.

I wasn’t looking forward to getting dumped, but I needed to see Everett anyway. Even if he was breaking up with me, he was the only person I trusted enough to talk about what happened at the plant.

I was queasy with fear as I got out of my car in front of Waffles? It was dark out, because it had taken me a hell of a lot longer to finish the job than I’d expected. Between the white-hot pain in my side and the utter terror that had left me shaking and ready to throw up, I hadn’t been nearly as efficient as I usually was. The pain especially—it was hard to breathe, never mind move around or clean.

About five hours after I’d said I’d be done, I finally was. The plant manager hadn’t been thrilled about that, and she hadn’t cared when I’d explained that the job was more difficult than expected. I was probably getting a bad rating from her, but whatever. At least I didn’t have to crawl around in, on, or under that goddamned machine again. I’d take her two-star Yelp review with a smile.

Before getting in my truck, I’d stripped off my Tyvek suit, but I didn’t throw it away this time. I carefully laid it out in the truck and took a photo with my disposable camera, documenting the near perfect Air Force 1 print across the back with a ruler next to it. Then I’d bagged it up in a paper bag and stashed it in the truck.

With that photographed and preserved, I’d gone home for a shower, which sucked because my whole body hurt. The job had been a physical one, and everything from my neck to my hips was like one giant spasm because of the kick that asshole had landed in my side. Trying to work through that had left my body… not happy.

Showered, dressed, and loaded down with more than the recommended dose of Aleve, I’d driven to Waffles?, and here I was.

Everett was already here; I’d seen his car when I’d pulled into the parking lot. Kind of hard to miss when he’d managed to park across three spaces and partway onto the curb.

I gave a sad little laugh as I walked by his ridiculous parking job. He was chaos on wheels, but it was somehow endearing. Everything he did was endearing.

Are you really going to break up with me? Already?

This was the worst day ever. Fuck.

I shuffled into the restaurant and gave the scene a sweep before finding Everett. He was in a booth beside the corner one occupied by the Goth kids.

When he met my gaze and gestured to get my attention, my heart sank even deeper. He usually had his cute little himbo smile when he saw me. Tonight… not so much.

But when I was almost to the table, he rose and reached for me, moving in for a kiss.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t?—

“Ow!” I flinched away from the hand he’d put on my side, almost losing my balance in the process.

“What?” Panic filled his voice, and he grabbed my arm to steady me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m good,” I wheezed. “I’m… I’m good.”

He kept hold of my arm. “You don’t look good? Dude, you’re like…white.”

I swallowed the acid rising in my throat and croaked, “I’m fine. Just need to sit.”

---