Savage Lane by Jason Starr Read Free Book Online Page B

the top row of the bleachers, and all the way in the corner, as far away from Owen as she could possibly get—but she couldn’t do that as the sane, logical voice was still lurking somewhere in her brain, reminding her the worst thing she could do was draw any attention to her relationship with Owen. The only positive of the whole situation was that the perverted side of herself was a well-kept secret, that she was alone in her suffering.
    The boys were doing freestyle. Shit, that meant there was another forty-five minutes of practice. That wasn’t enough time to drive somewhere; she had to get outside to get some air, but she didn’t want to make a display of leaving right after Owen had returned just in case someone was paying attention. She looked over in Grace’s direction and, sure enough, Grace was looking, maybe staring, right at her. This time Deb didn’t smile, though; instead maintaining a blank expression and pretending to look beyond Grace, at the wall displaying school championship banners, before shifting her gaze back toward the swimming pool.
    While Deb knew that Grace probably just happened to be looking in her direction and that it probably didn’t mean anything, it was hard not to be paranoid. Maybe Grace had seen Deb returning from the classroom upstairs and Owen returning from the same direction and maybe suspected something was going on. Grace was a gossiper. Deb remembered how a few months ago Grace had told her a story—in confidence—about how the Adlers, a couple they both knew, were in marriage counseling because David Adler had been hitting his wife Marissa. If Grace couldn’t keep that to herself, how would she be able to not blab about an affair with a teenager?
    Deb was jarred by a blast of Owen’s Axe. Was she imagining it or was the scent getting stronger? It seemed like she had her nose in the bottle, and that the bottle was fastened to her face, like a horse’s feedbag. He had his head tilted down slightly—looking down at something, probably his cell phone. She hated herself for letting this situation linger on, for not being assertive, for getting sucked in all over again. Now she would have to wait until the next time they were alone, but what if she couldn’t go through with it then either? What if the only escape would be everyone finding out, for disaster to ensue?
    Her purse vibrated. She opened it and saw she’d gotten a text from Owen: That was so fuckin’ hot!
    The Axe was overwhelming now; she couldn’t breathe. Worse, she was getting turned on. She couldn’t take this anymore, she was going to lose it, have a breakdown. As she stuffed her phone back into her purse she saw the little bottle of Stoli. She’d forgotten it was there—she’d thought she’d had the last one the other day when she’d been running around, doing errands and had gotten antsy in the car in the parking lot outside Walgreens.
    Deciding that enough time had passed since Owen had returned for her to leave again, she walked, trying not to seem like she was rushing, toward the exit. She noticed that Grace was involved in conversation with another mom and didn’t seem to see her, and she realized that the whole idea that Grace was suspicious had probably been ridiculous.
    In the bathroom, she went into a stall, tore off the seal and gulped down the vodka in one swig, as if she’d been wandering around a desert and it was the first liquid she’d come across in days. It relaxed her a little, but it wasn’t enough. She was afraid if she went back in there and had to see the back of Owen’s head again and breathe in more of his cologne she’d have a panic attack or, worse, lose control and want to be with him again. She was already fighting off an urge to text him back and keep the fantasy going.
    Instead, she went outside. Ah, air. This was what she needed: freshness, clarity. It happened to be turning into a particularly beautiful day—a very blue sky, a light breeze, and it had to be