Page 46 of Break the Ice
He starts past me to the parking lot. Dylan pauses next to me in the doorway. Concern scrunching his brows.
“Good game,” is all he says when I walk out.
When I fall into step with him, Jayden’s still quiet. His jaw is tight, and his lips pressed shut.
“You’re acting weird,” I say.
“I’m not.”
“You’re being quiet and—what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just sore,” he adds the latter quickly and then falls back into silence. As we reach my G-Wagon, he asks, “Do you really not celebrate Thanksgiving?”
“It’s not a Christian holiday,” I tell him.
“Don’t your people give thanks?”
“My people?” I ask with a chuckle, trying to bring some levity to his quietness. “I’m not Moses.”
“No, you’re Elijah,” he laughs, emphasizing every syllable of my name as he gets into my car. When I’m in too, he asks, “Didn’t that guy go up in flames or something?”
“Something like that,” I say, starting the engine at the same time as he speaks.
Jayden’s watching me closely while I navigate through downtown LA and onto the Harbor freeway.
We’re settled into the drive when he announces, “Thanksgiving.”
“What about it?”
“Want to celebrate it this year?” His left hand pulls at his neck with alow hiss. “It’s literally across the hall and you can come and go as you want. Plus, my sisters will be relieved to have another girl around, and I think Finley would love Kailey...”
“Sure, that will be nice.” The way he thinks of Finley warms my chest. “Fin will love that.”
“She’s good for you... I like her.”
“Yeah, Finley makes it real hard not to.”
He drags in a deep breath, holding it in a beat before he asks, “What’s the deal with the two of you anyway? I haven’t seen you kiss her once.”
I steal a glance at him.Does this mean he wants to kiss her?
“Are you together? Are you not together? It’s kind of hard to tell when she initiates and you pull away.”
“It’s complicated,” I say.
“What isn’t complicated? I don’t think there’s anything worth having that is straightforward.”
Jayden stares down at his lap, and when I look at him, he's twisting his fingers as he plays with the mood ring on his index finger.
“You said you like her?—”
“Like, I think she’s special. Like… you know… she brings out a different side of you that makes you approachable. Maybe a little bit relatable,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at his own statement. “I like the way you are with her when you allow yourself to be.”
A bright flush creeps across his cheeks when we pause at a red light and I observe him. Trying to figure out what he means.
“You smile more around her. Like I said, she makes you approachable.”
“You don’t think I’m approachable?”
