Page 20 of Changing Lanes

I’m waiting on our drinks when I’m approached by the small, blond man, the woman clinging to his side. I know he’s friends with Torrie, I saw them talking one day on campus as she waited for me, but I’ve never spoken to him.

“Well, if it isn’t Farmer Ted. Where’s your paycheck?” He swirls his drink in his hand, my gut was right. This isn’t going to end well.

“Excuse me?” Squaring my shoulders, not to show my size, I’m bigger than he is sitting down, just letting him know I don’t back down.

“Oh, look. Farmer Ted is also deaf. Are all farmers deaf and dumb or just you?” He sips his brown liquor as if it’s too much for him to handle. And if he thinks the ‘Farmer Ted’ reference is lost on me, he doesn’t realize the eighties will always be known for iconic movies.

“It’s country boy, but you will call me Brannon. Torrie’s talking to Robyn.” Jerking my head in her direction only gets her attention, though, my present company remains.

“Did she not tell us he’s a farmer? Pig? No, cow.” The snotty blonde wrinkles her nose at me.

Looking at my costume and bad wig, they ask about it. “That’s right, cow farmer. So, who are you supposed to be?”

“Her brother.” I point at his girl, glaring in his direction as Torrie joins us.

“Seth. Haylee. Let me formerly introduce you to Brannon. Well, Fred for today. I’m Daphne, of course,” Torrie explains as she takes my hand. Her eyes dart to mine when she realizes I’m ridged. “Scooby Doo is the man.”

“Farmer Ted and I were just discussing the benefits of cows,” the talking asshole across from me grunts.

“Seth, I’ve asked you once not to call him that.” Torrie’s words eat away at my ear like a worm. I drop her hand from mine, and she cuts her eyes at me from the loss.

“Seth, is it? No. Not all farmers are deaf and dumb. Even if they are, they’re still not dicks. So, what’s your excuse for being one? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have an excuse, you’re a natural.” Nodding at the ladies, I make no apologies for my exit.

The fucking elevator takes its time to depart and just before it lowers, I see Torrie standing in the hall. The look of disappointment marring her beautiful features. What the hell am I thinking? I’m not even in her league. I’m pissed the fuck off at a man who spoke nothing but the truth.

I take the long way back to my dorm. About half way there, I remember the damn wig. It and the scarf end up in the trash, along with my dignity. The trouble is, I’m angrier with myself than with that shithead. Why I let him get to me, I have no clue.

The distinguishable difference between us is and always will be, money. I’ve never had it, and she’s never been without it. The look on her face as I left spoke volumes. Torrie knows we can never go beyond this, I’ll never be what she needs.

Her father will never approve of me, I can tell by the things she says about him. I’m not sure he approves of his own daughter. Damn sure my dad would have never treated me like that. He was proud of me no matter what I did or who I turned out to be.

As I get closer to my building, I see her standing there. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t even considered Torrie coming to find me. I definitely didn’t think about her driving home. I have no idea why she would want to even speak to me, after my dick move of walking out on her.

“Hey there, country boy. Gotta minute?” Stepping forward to meet me, she grimaces.

“Yeah, I think we need to talk. Sorry about bailing on you back there, such a shithead move.” Kicking at an imaginary rock, I feel like a petulant child.

She folds her arms across her chest. “Why did you leave?”

“I would think it was obvious.” I shove my hands in my pockets.

“Not to me. So, please, explain why you left me. Not why you left because of something someone else said or did.” She’s angry, I get it, but I don’t plan on staying around while someone insults me.

“Don’t you dare act as if you see me any differently than your asshole friend.” I throw my hands in the air to emphasize my point.

“I do not see you that way,” she scoffs. “Furthermore, if that’s what you think of me, maybe we are wrong for each other.” She touches her cheek with the back of her hand. It may be dark out here, but I know she’s crying.

“Tell me, Torrie. If you see me differently, why haven’t I been introduced to your parents’? You’re perfectly fine with surprising them at Thanksgiving. Why not now? We could meet for dinner or FaceTime them. Or even over the phone, but you’ve offered nothing.” My question is barely a whisper as I try to hide my hurt.

“What? You know why, my father. I can’t explain it, it’s senseless to try,” she says as she wraps herself in her arms. “He’s ridiculous, and I really hate the fact you have to meet him, period. And that, Brannon, has nothing to do with you.”

I do understand. I also understand if she doesn’t make a stand now, proving she’s capable of making her own decisions regardless of his opinion, she never will. I don’t want to hide who we are from anyone. In the last few weeks, Torrie has become important to me. I’m afraid the longer we wait, the more hurt is going to come from this.

“There’s gonna come a time when you’ll have to decide between the love you have and the love you want. I just hope I’m there in the end.” Sighing, I drop my hands in defeat.

Standing mere inches from one another, we search in the dark of night for understanding. When our eyes lock, we search them for hope, love. She dries her face again, and I cave, tugging her into my arms. I hold her close as her tears fall in earnest.

Holding her as she cries, I feel as though there is so much more to learn about the dynamics with her father. She trembles in my arms, not from cold but from fear. I hate it, it makes me think this is hopeless. When her tears cease, I take her with me to grab some things from my dorm.