Page 62 of Cross the Line
“Fuck off,” Jayden groans, nuzzling into the pillow as he shimmies impossibly closer.
“The alarm hasn’t gone off yet,” Elijah grumbles, tightening his hold on me while their legs stay hooked over mine.
“I hate that prick so fucking much,” Jayden mutters as another louder knock echoes through the suite.
This time, Dylan’s voice booms into our peace. “If you’re not out here in ten seconds, we’re leaving without you. Good luck with Coach.”
Elijah peels himself from me, rolling away to check the time. “Shit! My phone is dead.”
“Ten,” Dylan announces.
“You’re not funny,” Jayden growls as Elijah leaps from bed and yanks the duvet off him in one swift tug.
“Nine…” Dylan hollers with another thud.
“Shower,” Elijah orders while Jayden stretches beside me, waking up.
One corner of his mouth quirks up, then the other, before he opens one eye and gives me a sleepy grin. “Morning, Baby.”
“Morning, Hotshot,” I croon back, burrowing into the warm bedding as Elijah yanks him up brusquely.
“Eight, dickheads,” Matheo does the honors.
“It’s almost nine-fucking-AM,” Elijah grunts, stripping out of his boxer briefs on the way to the bathroom. “We’re so damn late!”
Jayden snaps awake. He scoops Elijah’s underwear from the floor and follows him into the bathroom, muttering about Eli leaving his shit everywhere.
“Seven!”
He’s not wrong. Elijah has an uncanny habit of putting things down wherever he is. Hairbands in the key bowl, keys by the sink, cups… God, the cups on every surface. Really, he’s lucky I love him—and can’t live without him—because otherwise, I might have murdered him by now.
“Six…”
I throw off the duvet and check myself in the full-length mirror—decent enough to open the door and tell the guys Eli and Jayden will be right out.
The instant I crack it, Matheo sticks his head through. “They better be ready,” he says with a glare.
“They will be in a few minutes,” I tell him, holding the door so Dylan can follow Matheo into the sitting area.
While Matheo helps himself to a bottle of water from the kitchenette nook, Dylan stands awkwardly by the couch.
“Can I get you a drink?” I don’t know why I offer; he’s clearly eager to leave.
“I’m good. Thanks,” he says with a faint smile.
“Well, I better…” I point toward the bedroom, shuffling to the door I left ajar. “…you know, make sure they’re almost done for you.”
“No shenanigans,” Matheo grumbles, leveling me with a narrow-eyed stare as I pass.
“Behave, Hillier,” Dylan says, tone deep and surly.
“Thank fuck for double showers,” Jayden rushes into the bedroom as I close the door.
Water still sluices down his body; his hair drips across his face while he pulls clothes from the closet.
“Here.” Elijah walks in behind him, brushing his teeth with one hand and holding out Jayden’s toothbrush with the other.
They move around me with easy choreography—passing clothes, sneakers, hairbrushes, deodorant—so in sync it could be an art form.
