Page 83 of Cross the Line
I hate myself for being relieved that he’s not touching me. I hate that it’s even a thought crossing my mind as I observe the way he’s toying with the lid of the teapot.
“Since when do you have a teapot?”
Jayden side-glances at me. His cheeks flame a cherry-popsicle red that has my chest doing funny things.
“Well, there’s some unsavory shit in those tea bags you use. Like bleach and stuff they use in the mesh… or whatever.”
Oh. The thrum behind my ribs stutters. “Who told you that?”
“The internet.”
“Isn’t it a common fact that you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet?” I don’t know why I’m teasing him, except that the atmosphere is tight and the air is sort of hard to breathe.
JJ shrugs. The color staining his cheeks percolates to the tips of his ears while I keep watching him trace the curve of the stainless-steel pot with his thumb.
He doesn’t let the silence stretch for long before he says, “It’s an Ayurvedic blend. I found it online when I was researching why anyone would prefer tea over coffee.”
“There are more tea options than coffee options, for one.”
Jayden spins on his stool to look at me. His brow is cocked with an amused expression. His eyes are bright, and it’s not the same as the color slowly fading from his face—the glint is all mischief. More green than gold.
“Too many, if you ask me,” he says, gaze flashing to my hands as I keep cracking my fingers. “I mean, there are like a bazillion kinds of green tea. I gave up trying to figure out which one I should get because it was giving me a fucking migraine.”
“You don’t drink green tea.”
“I wasn’t getting it for me.” He gnaws on his lip, and that glorious cherry glow brightens again. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff. Tastes like pond water.”
“You were getting it for me…”
“Duh,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes. “You’re the only one who drinks it. Fin and I can’t—pond water. Pretty certain she says it tastes like rotten fish guts or something…”
“What?” I burst out laughing at the effeminate voice he tries to put on… and fails, because his timber is too gravelly and deep.
“I don’t know how you drink it, and I gave up trying to figure it out, so I got this blend instead. It’s meant to be good for the mind. Like, calming and shit.”
“Calming and shit,” I echo his remark because I can’t figure out what to say for the life of me.
There’s something in my chest coiling and pulling and vibrating, and I don’t know what to do with it—with the sensation or the way it’s got my breath and my words sticking together at the back of my throat where my logic is all jammed.
“Well, a-a-are you going to pour me a cup?”
Jayden nods. “It’s a quiet-mind blend. Vanilla, fig, rooibos, and chamomile.”
“Rooibos.” My grandmother drinks it all the time because it’s naturally caffeine-free, and the Lord’s temple should not be tainted.
The thought of her shudders all the way from the top of my head to the soles of my feet in an icy wave. Every cut that’s ever graced my voice sparks with a bone-deep stab.
“Shit, you don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it,” he says, stopping mid-pour.
Naturally, my hand grasps his, tilting it so that he continues pouring the tea into my Christmas cup. “I haven’t tried it yet, JJ.”
Every other sensation needling my body fades at the contact. I only feel him—his warmth, and the effect it has on me. That Jayden has on me.
He’s a balm that soothes every wound I’ve ever had. When he puts the teapot down, I reach for his hand again. I’m desperate to be tethered to something other than the past.
“Eli,” he whispers my name with a questioning glance, as though he’s afraid to reciprocate the tightness of my grip on him.
“I’m here, Jayden.”
