His eyebrows knit together, confused at my command. I smirk and tap the canister in his hands. He gives me a shy smile and bows his head, beginning to shake the drink.
“Harder than that. Put some strength into it.”
Elijah rolls his eyes, but I’m pleased to see that he’s fighting a smile. I let him shake for a minute, refusing to acknowledge more than in my periphery the way his cock bulge sways and jumps as he aggressively shakes the mixer cups.
“Good.” I hold my hand out for the cup, and he hands it over. He watches as I pour. Then I hand him the glass and the scanner to give to the customer.
He does. He even manages a friendly smile when he hands it over. I’m about to be pleased with this when I realize the fucker he’s handing the drink to is hitting on him. Fucking Elijah is playing bashful.
I growl like a damn dog and crowd Elijah’s space to wipe the counter. “Next,” I say, and feel Elijah’s amusement as he takes a step back.
I’m not sure I entirely fixed what broke between us. What I know is that over the next six hours, the air that had felt tense and cold gets warmer again. He’s still slow to smile at or eventalk to me, but our eyes meet often and the heat that flares is intense. It burns hot, filling the space so full that I’m sure everyone around us feels and sees it, too.
Throughout our shift, I bounce between teacher mode and obsessively, possessively jealous when the patrons flirt with this man. Not that I blame them. Not at all. Elijah loves attention, and he’s in his damn element when someone comments.
He also loves that I can’t stop myself from running interference every goddamn time, too.
By the end of the night, when we’re cleaning up, I’m far more exhausted than I usually am. I’m relieved that no one is trying to get in his pants right now. For the rest of the night, he’s not being ogled at by anyone but me.
As it should be.
Wonder if I can convince him that shorts like those should only be worn around me. Private showing shorts.
Elijah readily helps Beth, Sam, and me clean, which means we’re out before two with the extra set of hands. At this time of night, the ferries are almost empty. They primarily run for residents returning home from work.
I stand close beside him, our arms pressed together. As with our ride to Etsumi, we don’t speak. But the silence between us no longer feels heavy and awkward. I’m still not sure I truly fixed what I fucked up, but at least he understands a little more about why I walked away, and doesn’t think I was just being an asshole.
By the time we get our phones and are walking slowly toward our houses, we’re entirely alone. The world around us is silent save for the occasional wind chime.
“Was I awful?” Elijah asks.
“Not at all. You did well.”
He nods. “Do you always get a ton of room numbers?”
I look at him, frowning. “What?”
Out of his pocket, he pulls a handful of napkins with room numbers on them. I take them, wad them up, and slip them into my pocket. Elijah smirks. “You’re rather cranky about letting me have some fun.”
“You’re allowed to have as much fun as you want,” I argue.
“But not with someone else.”
I’m walking myself into a trap. “You can be with whoever you want.” Oh, yeah. I don’t mean a word of that.
“Then give me the room numbers back, Laiken.”
“No,” I grit out.
He laughs. “If you don’t want?—”
“I told you I want,” I cut him off. “I said we can’t. That’s different.”
“Okay, fine. It’s different. But it’s not different at all. You don’t really think I’m going to become a monk because you can’t, right?”
I glare at him, which only makes Elijah smile sweetly. That kind of sugary sweet smile where they know they have you.
“You feel differently, then? You think… You think your father is just going to cry with joy if we…”
