Page 62 of A Drop of Anguish
I follow Jarron down a familiar narrow hall. My shoulders relax when I realize where he’s taking me. I almost grin when we turn into the dimly lit room I’d dubbed the speakeasy.
The back wall is covered in old red brick, where there are wooden shelves lined with hundreds of jars of liquids and herbs. There are three small cauldrons and two machines on the countertop.
The only light comes from two hanging industrial lamps and a massive fireplace at the far end.
It feels good to be back here. This was the first location in Elite Hall that I felt any sense of ease. Maybe the only place, other than Jarron’s room for a time.
And now, Jarron’s room would bring up a lot of really negative feelings, but this place still feels right.
An escape among the chaos of Elite Hall.
I’m a potionist, but I’ve never actually made my own beverage here. Jarron has always done it for me. And once again, without a word, he begins combining several of the jars into the steamer and pours the creamy, spicy liquid into a copper mug.
In only moments, he’s made a masterful chai latte—my favorite.
“Thanks.” I grip the hot mug between my hands and bring it up to my nose to breathe in the delicious spice-filled aroma.
He pours a second for himself.
“You’re drinking chai now?”
He shrugs. “I don’t have any particular preference.”
Jarrontakes a seat at one of the six bar top tables clustered around the room, with dark metal chairs and red velvet cushioned seats. We didn’t use to sit here.
I look over my shoulder at the velvet bench in front of the fireplace, and I picture past-us, sitting there together, filled with uncertainty, but at the same time, I found such comfort being here with him.
I hate how different things are. Guilt swirls in my chest because I ruined it. I ruined a really good thing, all because I can’t seem to get over the jealousy.
The wondering. The what-ifs. They keep me up at night even now.
“I’m surprised there aren’t more people here,” I comment as I take a seat opposite him.
“There usually are. I asked Laithe to clear it out for us today.”
“Really?” Why? I don’t voice the second question.
He nods. “We needed privacy for this, and I figured—well, I figured this was best.”
My stomach squeezes uncomfortably. He doesn’t want me in his room?
Or did he do this for my comfort, assuming I wouldn’t want to be in his room?
Slowly, I lift the cup and tilt it back, allowing the warm frothy liquid to distract me from these conflicting feelings and doubts. The spices zing over my tongue. Pure joy fills me with just a taste.
I’ve always thought chai tastes like magic. The way it settles my nerves is incredible.
I open my eyes to find Jarron staring at me with a look of awe. “What?” I whisper.
“This feels good,” he says, the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.
I haven’t seen him truly smile in, well, weeks. Not since the morning I woke up in his bed. “Things between us are complicated, but it feels good to be here with you.”
He stares down at the liquid in his cup, the smile already fading. “I was wrong to push you away. Just because we want different things from this doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my life. Literally the last thing in the world I want is to lose you entirely.”
My eyes widen as I let his words settle. I could let myself freak out over the implications, but—friends. We’re friends now. That’s what I want.
Right?
