Page 6 of Cross the Line
With a cocked brow, she leans in. “Trust me, there’s always gagging. Reflex or no. Guys love the big dick power trip, even when they know you’re putting it on.”
“I don’t get how anyone can feel good about something that isn’t real… that’s not true.”
Her phone rings. Summer’s face flashes on the screen before Christina answers. Then freezes.
Each second stretches; her eyes widen, color drains. She flags the server for the check with a tight flick of her hand. There’s no argument when I pay—definitelynot normal. She’s already grabbing our bags, her whole body poised to bolt.
“What’s going on?” I ask as she studies me at the restaurant doors, like bracing for impact.
With a shrug, she tugs the hood of Jayden’s Comets hoodie over my head. “Time to get out of here.”
Christina doesn’t answer my question, but something heavy and sour coils in my stomach while she continues talking to Summer cryptically.
In the Uber, she ends the call and scrolls, her knee bouncing like mad.
“Christina.” I still her leg with my hand, attempting to calm my nerves. “What’s wrong?”
Pink, tear-glossed eyes flick to mine while she chews her lip.
“Not here,” she says, locking her phone before I can see.
“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” I squeeze her knee.
Please let that be true, I pray in my head when her responding smile wavers, falling way short of her eyes.
The only thing I can do is lean into her, making sure she knows that I’m right here for her. However she might need me.
The second the Uber comes to a stop, Christina grabs my hand and yanks me out of the car after her, straight into the building. We’re waiting for the elevator when she turns to me.
“Fin…” The doors ping open, and my phone erupts in my pocket.
“One sec.” I thumb through the stack of notifications from the Elijah/Jayden alerts.
“Don’t,” she says, closing her hand around my screen. “Don’t do that.”
The apology on her face punches through me, hollowing my chest.
Oh, God.
“Tina…” I tug my phone free, and she pulls me into the elevator. “Stop! Let go…”
“Fin, you can’t… you shouldn’t…”
She doesn’t try again when I wrench my hand back. I tap a random alert. An article snaps open.
The words don’t land. The headline doesn’t register. The world narrows to one thing. The photo.
Elijah and… and…
“I’m sorry, Fin.”
Sorry?“Why?”
Her brows knit.Because you think I’m seeing the same thing you are.But I’m seeinghim.The pain on his face—like that time when we were making out on his couch and he freaked out. At first, I thought he was enjoying it, too. Until the grooves between his brows pulled deeper, his jaw set wrong, and his body went rigid under my hands.
“It’s not what you think. It’s not… It’s not true…”
“Finley—”
