BABY, JUST LOVE ME RIGHT — lane fostman who develops a crush on a woman out of his league.
.✦ when you first walked into the busted gas station asking to fill out an application, the man behind the counter looked at you like you had just let loose a bunch of wild, rampant animals inside the store. he scanned you up and down, a maxi skirt with all shades of pink and brown, a white skin-tight skirt, and a cute pair of sandals. he liked what he saw; his icy blue eyes lit up in amusement. your fingers tightened their hold on the strap of your purse. “are you sure you’re at the right place, sweetheart?” he yawned, pushing his hair back.
“i think so, is this not mad dog?” your brows drew together, very obvious you were not fond of the nickname thrown at you. his lips threw a smirk your way, “are you still sure you want to apply, dear? this doesn’t seem like a place for someone like you.” his elbows propped on the register, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. your (eye color) hues followed his movements, you shrugged, “tuition needs to be paid somehow, no? summer break.” his eyebrow quirked, “mm, teaching?” that would be the only thing he saw a woman really going to college for. “no, nursing.” with those sexy scrubs used in weirdly titled porno. you bit the inside of your lip. was this even a good idea? his vibe was not it! what if this man was deemed your future coworker? he was basically stripping you with his eyes if he could salivate like a overly hydrated dog there’d be 20lbs of saliva over the register, “i’ll just make my way out.” you scratched your cheek turning your legs, “i was just kidding, here,” a small thin application stretched in front of you. “may god have mercy on your soul,” looking to the side he whispered, “mine as well.”
that was the first impression lane had of you. a sweet, charming woman who unfortunately just didn’t keep up with his antics. he would try to spark conversation but you always clocked the way his eyes landed on your chest and would excuse yourself saying you had to clean up a spill near the refrigerators. yeah, maybe it was his fault he said your uniform would look good if you sized your shirt down not even three hours into your first shift. your beaming face twisted into a look of disgust in a heartbeat. “it’s just bad habit!” he exclaimed walking behind you his eyes falling into your assets. “i don’t care if it’s bad habit, you don’t speak that way to anybody.” he rolled his eyes, “that’s just guy talk, babe.” you turned around one eye twitching a small huff of laughter pressed past his mouth.
the thing about you it was obvious you took nothing from anybody. that cheerful attitude you greeted every customer with could easily decimate anybody who spoke funny; even lane wasn’t spared. he had only known you for a couple of months and you had already made his body tingle with every insult thrown his way. “i hope you heal from the things that have caused you to act this way.” the kill him with kindness tact, “aw, you care about little ole me?”
there were shifts where there would be no peep from you he wouldn’t lie, he’s a very honest man! it was like not talking to you dried his mouth, his throat itching; he needed an epipen to calm himself down. call him easy, but even with the limited interactions you had with him, heat poured through his body. the way you moved, your scent, your hair, the small, dainty jewelry that adorned your wrists, neck, and ears. how without noticing, your shirt would lift, revealing patches of bare skin to be seen, or how the lacy design of your underwear would peek from your jeans. an attractive woman with a beautiful personality and great assets. so he, at least sometimes, tried to hold his tongue back, or else you'd never talk to him, especially when it came to pet names.
22 years of age in university to earn your bachelor's in physiology, something about becoming a motion therapist or physical health, or something like that. he had overheard you talking about it with a customer. at first he grunted, did you think you were special? did you think just because you were leaving in may with a good career and more than likely making bank that you were crowned royalty? puhlease don't make him laugh.
that ideology diminished when he caught a glimpse of the bright look in your eye, speaking about your passion; he understood nothing about cellular respiration or the sodium-potassium pump you were talking about, but he understood the passion. you never flirted with customers, never sought out attention; attention just gravitated towards you. and people took notice. customers would offer to buy you the charity chocolate that sat right beside the register, and you willingly took one, thanking them. lane especially knew how alluring you were, but you were unreachable, at least for someone as lowly as himself.
it took a month and a half, but it clicked in his head, you lived in a completely different world, be it knowledge-wise or personality-wise. you would talk about your post-graduation plans, such as taking a trip overseas before applying to an actual job, and getting lost in the daze that is healthcare. or, before an important test, you would study your notes during your breaks when you weren't looking lane would sneak glances at the colorful ink, looking puzzled at the variety of arteries and veins the human body consisted of. it stirred turmoil inside him; you had a life outside this stupid convenience store. adding fuel to his fire, it was almost every two weeks he would find a sticky note with your neat handwriting:
need tuesday off, family plans!
need thursday off, will trade for night shift!
tracing the pencil marking, he felt a jealous brew. there was a world outside of mad dog. "another party?" he turned to look at you while you arranged the front of the cashier. "nope. it was kind of spontaneous but one of my friends set me up with one of her cousins." now it was his eye's turn to twitch. "a date?" you nodded with a small smile, "with a guy you don't even know?" you sighed, leaning against shelf. "that's usually how dates work." you crossed your eyes puffing your cheeks in and out, while lane looked at you an unwavering emotion dancing through his eyes, a random guy sitting across from you while you talked about god knows what. your studies, future plans, personal stories?
like the bullet to kirk's neck, it finally clicked in his head. he was never jealous of you, even though he would repeat that shit like daily affirmations, grumbling under his breath. it was your attention he was after, all the strange and unsettling stuff he had spewed was only ever to get a reaction from you, the idea of you going out doing your makeup, picking out a cute outfit and shoes to match the vibe for someone else actually caused his fingers to tense in place.
his mind flashed the many times he tried to get your attention, rejecting his red bulls, saying you wanted to sleep tonight, rejecting his advances. or that one time you stopped by on your day off to buy headache medicine while out with your friends and stunned the store with such a girly outfit, gagging him for sure. the pinks and greens complemented your skin tone well; lane's mouth parted, watching the skirt's material twirl below you in a trance. "yep," he stood behind you watching you pick up a small pill bottle, "you should definitely be careful walking like that, (name)." you rolled your shoulders, "i can handle myself, but thanks for the compliment." he tucked his hands inside his pockets, "not a compliment." shaking your head you looked over at the empty register, "ring me up."
present lane continued. "he'll probably think you're easy. i mean meeting a random guy whose name you don't even know. wow." you stiffened, wrinkles forming on your forehead. "what are you talking about?" he shrugged, he knew he had crossed a line, he threw a lazy grin. "just saying what he'll probably think." his jealousy had taken an identity of its own. you had inched closer to him, the soft scent of your shampoo wafting to his nose. "just saying,"
"no, no, no im not falling into your stupid trap." placing your hand on his chest you softly pushed him back. "what trap?" he steadied himself. "you're just trying to make me feel bad about going. you're always talking about women and how handsome you are." he winked, "i know i am." you shook your head. "why don't you find someone to go out with instead of going home to fist fuck your hand?" you covered your mouth, fully registering the words that had seeped through, your eyes blown wide. "pfft!" you laughed in his face he might've preferred an actual argument instead, but seeing you laugh front and center in his field of vision brought a welcoming warmth. your shoulders shook with every laugh, your hand swatting in front of your face as if it would calm you down. Lane stared at you with a soft look, the reddening of his cheeks pinching his skin. "you evil woman." despite that, a small laugh erupted from him. in between laughs, you countered, "you're not turning this on me!"
"i was just expressing concern towards my favorite coworker."
you threw your head, and it hit lane like a bullet. this, this is what he was chasing after. the (name) (last) every customer got. how your eyes would crinkle and light up at a story a random customer would tell you, or when you told them something that resonated with their personal story. still laughing, you excused yourself, "im going to go get a drink." you threw a heavy breath after catching your own. "feel free to join."
he followed behind you with a small smile of his own. whether you enjoyed your date or not, he would be here waiting.
writing bs 😭😭😭 i feel like one of the main reasons i like lane is because he looks exactly like tokyo rev’s takemichi’s timeskip #both 🤤🤤🤤 no but gen kill lane like who da flop 😭😭 mc kill him 😭😭😭😭 i put a medical degree because that's what im studying and know of, but feel free to change it!
