Page 110 of Cross the Line
I have a hunch we already know, but as Dad would say,a hunch isn’t proof.
There’s something in the air that’s uneasy as we’re faced with the crowd of photographers.
I tug Finley into my side. “You are the best distraction.”
The three of us are sandwiched together, side to side. Hands holding hands, clawing into each other’s waists, and arms tangled together.
For a second, the world falls silent.
The quiet before the storm spectacularly erupts around us in a mania of frantic questions that blur together.
It’s too much.
Finley’s smile is wavering, and Eli’s jaw is getting tighter by the second. He’s pushing through it, but I can feel the tremor in his control.
Then, it happens.
His hand brushes mine, and his fingers curl around my wrist.
I’m holding my breath. Waiting to take action.
His fingers squeeze like he’s trying to hold out. Just a little longer…
Then I feel it. Three taps.
We’re done here.
I shift closer, steadying him. “Let’s go inside,” I murmur, quietly enough that only they hear.
Eli nods once. Together, we guide Finley forward, cutting through the bedlam of flashes and shouts, the three of us moving as one.
The second the glass closes behind us, the noise dies. I take a moment to check on Eli. He’s still tense, but as he absorbs the sudden peace, his jaw relaxes enough that I know he’ll be okay.
The elevator doors are already waiting, and we slip inside. We stand in silence, backs to the mirror, eyes fixed on the open doors ahead. When they finally close, all three of us release our breath in unison.
“That was intense,” Finley says first.
Our eyes meet in the mirrored doors. “Tell me about it.”
“The noise…” Eli shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t all screaming at once, and their flashes weren’t so close.”
“Really? You wouldn’t let JJ take a selfie of us before we left home,” Fin chuckles, hands on hips.
Eli smiles up at me, his stare soft and thankful. “It’s different.”
“Different…?”
“I don’t know…” He gnaws his lip. “Kind of makes us official… real.”
“Last night and this morning were very real to me,” I say, even though I totally get what he means—no matter what happens, the three of us will always be connected by any one of the photos snapped of us. We are public history that will never be erased.
The flush creeping up Eli’s neck to his cheeks eggs me on. “Every second we’ve spent inside our girl. Every taste I’ve had of you…”
His breath hitches, eyes darkening to a black hole that pulls my pulse into my throat.
Eli says nothing, and the elevator fills with the same charged quiet we brought in. Tension hums in the air. The kind that’s got us squirming with the heat pulsing between us.
The doors open, and I’m already aching to get to our suite. Every plan I made blurs as we step into a grove of potted palms screening the bar from the elevator.
