A suffering I might be able to remove.
My chest aches. My decision made.
“Who’s with him now?” I ask, eyes darting to the third coffee as it’s set down.
“Zeek. I’ll drop you with Kane, then head down to swap out,” he says, while I worry my lip until it stings. He lowers himself so our eyes align. “Hey, you’re not worrying about the big guy, right? He’s just being dramatic.”
No. Well, yes. I am worried about Julien. Imagining him suffering in the Pit is a new nightmare I didn’t need to add to my collection. But right now, I’m absolutely shit-scared about what I’m planning to do.
But if that’s what Sai thinks I’m worried about, I’ll latch right onto it.
“He’s been in the Pit, starving himself, for a week, Sai. You’re all exhausted. Hardly sleeping. I think I should be a little worried.”
The fourth coffee is placed down, right beside us. Perfect. Except Sai is also right here. Right where I can’t have him looking.
He reaches out for one. “Good job I’ll have this to keep me—”
I step into his path, stopping his hand.
“Wait,” I blurt, pulse hammering.
What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?
His brows lift, smirk tugging despite his confusion.
“Close your eyes,” I say.
Think, think, think!
“Please, I want to try something,” My heart pounds.
This has to happen now, right now. I can’t wait another day.
With a small scrunch of his nose and a quick shake of his head, he does it. He closes his eyes.
I act immediately—lids off three coffees, vial tipped, equal pours, then just a touch more into one.
I did it.
I’m about to snap the lids back on when I remember Sai’s eyes are still shut, and he’s waiting for something.
My finger dips into the whipped cream crowning his cup. I tried to drown the bitterness in syrup and spice, and I pray to the Goddesses it’s enough.
When I brush the cream across his lips, his eyes fly open.
I freeze under his stare. Then his tongue slowly flicks out, licking the cream from his mouth.
“Do you like it?” I whisper, completely breathless, unable to look away.
“Trying to distract me?” he rasps, still tasting my skin.
Panic flares. What? Did he see me?
But it vanishes when he catches my hand, not allowing me to pull it back from his lips. The tip of his tongue sweeps back over my fingertip.
He does it again, and again, even when there isn’t a speck of cream left.
“Fuck, you’re such a goodfriend,Red,” he groans. In public. Barista right there. While looking at me like that.
