Page 5 of Cross the Line
Bread, sugar, butter… yes.
The coffee is just cutting through the fog when the server sets down our plates—French toast crowned with berries for me, and a sizzling German pancake for Christina, its skillet popping, filled with bacon, scrambled eggs, and a honey-glazed berry salad.
“I always forget how big their portions are here,” she says, picking off the fresh mint leaves. It’s a late brunch—late enough to be a casual lunch.
“These are normal. You haven’t seen big portions until you’ve seen Jayden and Elijah’s plates.”
“They’re big guys, Babe…” A laugh bubbles from her at the double entendre.
“Oh no, not yet. My brain is still waking up and—” Our phones trill at the same time.
A quick glance shows the alerts Christina set up for Elijah andJayden. Normally, I’d dive in; today, I flip my phone face down and still Christina’s hand before she opens hers.
“It’s probably some stupid article about the probability of Elijah being traded. The reporters are so brutal. Yesterday, there was an article about Elijah’s spiral into crisis. They’re trying to link our relationship to his health and recovery. Some buffoon commented how I’m a distraction and that he should drop me.”
“That asshole doesn’t know shit, so fuck them.”
“It wasn’t just that one person; there are so many of them, saying really mean things and…” I breathe in, slow and deep, tamping down the whisper that says it’s my fault—his benching, his headaches, his anxiety.Lie, lie, lie.“It sucks, and I’m not wasting my energy on them.”
Christina nods, lips pursed into a small smile. “Last night was super fun.”
“Yeah, I had the best time.”
“Good, because we’re going to make it a regular thing… minus the stalker. That dude was weird. Maybe we need to find you a pheromone whisperer to get your come-hither vibes in check.”
“My come-hither vibes?” I almost choke on French toast.
“Babe, the dude was watching you the whole night. Even Alice commented on it, and that woman rarely gets yucked by male attention.”
“Ryker—”
“No. No, Sweetie. We don’t keep record of creeper names. Anyhow, that name has always given me the ick. Ryker…” She shudders with a mock retch, cutting it short when the server swings by to check on us. “It’s not the food… it’s… eeeew… Ryker. What kind of name is that? Gross, right?”
“I have a cousin called Ryker,” the server says. Christina shoots me a rolled-lip grimace that disappears when the woman adds, “Third cousin, and he’s a total oddball.”
“See, Fin?” Christina croons. “It’s in the name. Like Ted, Samuel… Gary and John…”
The server chuckles and walks off. Meanwhile, Christina keeps adding to her red-flag list.
“Oh, my God, also Larry and Randall,” she yucks.
“You’re listing serial killers, of course the names are going to weird you out.”
“The fact you know that is impressive,” she smirks, spearing a strawberry and dragging it through my cinnamon apple compote.
“Elijah is into those True Crime documentaries and biopics. He’s watching this drama about Jeffrey Dahmer and?—”
“Yes, see, Jeffrey. What kind of name is Jeffrey… Jeffy… Jeff…” She gulps water, then chortles, “My name is Jeff…”
“What was that?”
“Jeff. That’s what that is.” She shrugs, tearing the crispy edge off her pancake and dipping again into my compote. “The reference is totally lost on you. We need to get you educated on Channing Tatum. Not that I think he’s super hot, I mean, I wouldn’t fucking die over him the way I would over Henry Cavill. That guy… yeah, I’d clone him and let him double stuff me for sure.”
“Oh, Jesus… stop it!” I snort coffee into my lungs, sputtering onto my nearly empty plate.
“Babe, you have to prepare yourself. Desensitize your sensibilities to it because you don’t want to be choking on air before you gag on?—”
“No. No gagging.” Heat floods my face—a bright pulsing beacon for the people around us.
