“I thought tea might be better.”
I blink at the sudden sting in my eyes. “What?”
“It’s green tea.” Tristen lifts it in my direction, bringing it closer to me. “Supposed to be healing or whatever.”
I’m still staring at it. Struck frozen while he holds it between us.
I’m like that long enough that Aunt B clears her throat and I jump, swallowing hard.
Tristen’s eye twitches.
“T-thank you,” I mumble with a dry tongue and cradle both hands around the top and bottom, avoiding contact with his grip. The top burns my pinkie, the little drinking hole letting loose a tiny tendril of steam when I pull it closer, but I don’t pay it any mind.
I’ve never had green tea before.
I’ve never had anything from a café before, either.
“They added blueberry.” He tips his own cup to his lips and sips. “Supposed to make it better.”
I nod and look down at the warm cup, its white lid cautioning against the elevated temperature inside, and work a swallow down.
Him and Bobbie go back to talking around me as if I’m not here, but I’m okay with it because I don’t think I can handle talking anymore.
Braving a sip when I’m certain neither of them are watching me, my eyes go wide when my tongue is covered in too-hot, amazing tasting liquid. It’s almost floral and fruity at the same time. Like springtime in full bloom in a drink that soothes down my throat and settles in my stomach like a feather.
I clutch my midsection, wrapping around myself to keep the feeling as long as possible, careful of the cup as I do.
Do they have any idea that a feeling like this exists?
Risking a glance through my lashes, I watch Tristen’s crooked smile form words I don’t bother listening to. Study the way thatone side of that grin makes his cheek scrunch up more than the other, making his eye look squinted.
An eye that darts over to me, catching mine, then wings back to my aunt like nothing ever happened.
The flush on my face is quick and hot.
“It’s good,” I murmur to the blanket though they’re mid-conversation and slink off the other side, setting the cup on the table.
“Yeah?” Tristen asks and tips back his own, tag flittering around his busted knuckles. “I thought so.”
Did he … get us the same thing?
And why do I like that idea?
I shake my head back and forth. “Yes. Aunt, can I go to the cafeteria?”
She looks taken aback when I meet her gaze then drop mine to the bed between us.
“Wait, you aren’t going home?” Tristen butts in and steps closer, but the bed is in the way of him getting far. “You okay?”
“Yes,” I answer at the same time my aunt does.
“He just doesn’t have a ride,” she adds, and I shoot her a look.
“What? No way.” He empties his hands and starts flinging the blankets back like he’s looking for something. “I’ll take you. C’mon. Grab your stuff.”
I go stiff as a board, the last bit of warmth from the tea fading away, leaving behind a racing heart and an achy chest.
“No, thank you,” I all but pant out and pull back.
