Page 11 of Crossing the Line

Okay, maybe that’s a lie, but life has been simple. Life has been easy.

Nothing about getting on a train with Claire feels easy, yet here I am, opening the door to a damn Uber so we can go to fucking Poughkeepsie.

“Do you even know if a train is running tonight?” I don’t look at her while I ask the question because I don’t want her to see the glimmer of hope in my eyes. If there’s no train, there’s no Florida. I’d be able to go home tonight and tell Mike and Cindy about how I almost did something stupid. We’d all have a good laugh, and then I’d never have to think of Claire Ackerman again.

“Yeah, I checked the app,” she sings happily, “There’s an overnight train that goes all the way to Florida, and it hasn’t left yet. It leaves in about...” She looks down at her phone and says, “Forty-five minutes.”

Well, isn’t that fucking convenient?

“Where in Florida?” I ask as I stare down the Uber driver through the rearview mirror. Why anyone would enjoy being driven around by a stranger is beyond me.

Without waiting for Claire to answer, I pull out my phone as the tires start to roll and text Mike.

Me: I’ll be out of town for a few days.

I wait for the three dots to appear, but they don’t. He’s probably preoccupied with Cindy, so I lock my phone and put it back in my pocket.

“Um,” Claire murmurs as she stares down at a map on her phone, “the beach?”

A short laugh leaves my nose. “Your options are probably Jacksonville or St. Petersburg.”

“St. Petersburg,” she mutters slowly as she types it on her phone. “Yeah, they have a station!” she says, beaming. “I’ll go there—or...” She hesitates. “We’ll go there?”

“Fine.” Leaning my head back against the seat, I try to come to terms with the fact that I’m going back to the place I thought I’d left behind forever.

At least I’ll have a place to stay.

Minutes pass of Claire seeming pleased with herself, and me trying not to dive out of this car every time we stop at a red light.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” she practically squeals.

Neither can I.

“By tomorrow, we’ll be in Florida. That’s so crazy to think about!”

You can say that again.

“I hope the weather is nice there.” She claps a hand over her mouth. “What if we go all the way there, and it’s raining?”

It probably will be because Florida sucks.

She’s still looking at me, and that’s when I realize I’ve only been thinking my answers. Her head tilts so she can scrutinize me with her judging eyes. “You don’t talk much.”

“You talk too much.”

Her stare turns into a glare, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “You don’t have to come with me, you know.”

I look up and see that we’ve stopped in front of the station. Before I can dig myself into a deeper hole, I open my car door. “Stop doubting me, Claire.”

10

Claire

I glare at the back of Aiden’s head as he walks toward the station. He’s changed since high school. He was always sort of withdrawn—my best friend, Violet, used to call him cute moody boy back then, but there was a gentle kindness about him in high school that seems to have disappeared.

My lips are sealed as we purchase our tickets and wait for the train. I talk too much? I’ll show him how much I don’t talk. I’ve been through enough tonight. If Aiden plans on squashing any lingering happiness that spills out of me, I can keep it to myself. I’ll bottle it up, savor it, and then set it free on the beaches of Florida where there will be no Aiden in sight.

By the time we take our seats on the train, he’s starting to look at me funny, but I don’t give in. It feels childish, but I’m committed to my silence at this point. It’s challenging, though. I want to talk—maybe not to Aiden specifically, but staying quiet kills me.

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