Page 21 of Cross the Line

“Thanks,” Theo mumbles, taking a bite. The pancakes are perfect, thick and fluffy with bursts of sweet blueberries in every bite.

“You know I was thinking, maybe I should text some of Alec’s buddies. See if they got any photos of last night.”

Theo groans. He hadn’t even thought of that. “I hope they didn’t.”

“I just wanna see you dancing with Alec. You never dance.”

The bite of pancakes stops halfway to Theo’s mouth, which remains open and gaping like a fish. “I what?”

“Danced,” Jason repeats. “With Alec. You were so drunk.”

“How do you remember? I thought you were drunk, too.”

“I was, but I can hold my liquor. You never could. You almost got up on the table, but then Alec did and started stripping and then you did this moon-eyed thing and?—”

Theo shoves his forkful of pancakes into Jason’s mouth to stop him from talking as memories from last night flood his brain. He had been dancing, alone and then with Alec. He’d gotten a little handsy and then tried to climb on the table and then—Alec had done it first. Drunk Theo didn’t care, but sober Theo recoils at the idea of what kind of attention he would’ve drawn to himself if he’d actually made it up onto the dining room table. Or worse, that photos might’ve existed of his lapse in decorum. Thankfully, before he could do what sober Theo would regret, Alec had climbed onto the table and drawn all the attention away from Theo and onto himself.

Suddenly Theo isn’t hungry at all.

“Your anxiety gets worse when you don’t eat,” Jason reminds him, swapping the pancakes for the omelet. “Protein will be better.”

“Thanks, dad,” Theo snaps. As soon as it’s out, he regrets it. The only thing he hates more than his own brain is when he snaps at Jason. It’s like snapping at a puppy, and guilt churns in his belly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You need to eat,” Jason says, entirely unperturbed. “I know how you get.”

He’s right. Theo does get anxious when he hasn’t eaten, or when he drinks too much, or when he’s just awake. Anxiety is kind of Theo’s baseline, but it’s definitely worse when his blood sugar isn’t stable. Refusing to risk snapping at his best friend a second time, and praying the food will settle some of the hangover, he takes a massive bite, unprepared for how delicious it is.

“The best cure for a hangover is definitely Alec’s food,” Jason says, nudging Theo’s arm.

“Will he be ok?” Theo asks, barely swallowing before taking another huge bite.

“Yeah, he gets in moods sometimes. The only one who can get him out of it is usually Charlie. He’s always known how to handle Alec, especially after his diagnosis. Mom and dad tried, but they were busy and—” Jason trails off with a shrug.

“What happens when he’s in school and not living at home?”

Jason pauses, thinking it over. “Not sure. He’s got a lot of friends. I'm sure he’s got someone he trusts there. Antonio, maybe? Or that Riley guy. They seemed close last night.”

The reminder of Riley sets off a fresh wave of nausea and Theo can barely choke down his eggs. He has no right to care who Alec is close to, or to worry about who he turns to when he isn’t okay. Except Theo can’t deny that he does care. He cares far more than he should.

CHAPTER 5

Alec

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor like that.”

Alec stops pacing, lifting his eyes to meet his mother’s. A lot of people joke that Alec is a copy and pasted version of her and they’re not wrong. They’ve got the same loose curls, the same light brown hair, miles of freckles, and the same smile. His brothers take after his dad with their height, darker hair, and lack of freckles. As a kid it made Alec feel weird to look so different from his siblings, but as an adult, he’s come to appreciate the features he shares with her.

“Morning, Mom.”

“Morning, love.” She smiles, leaning her hip against the kitchen island. She’s dressed in her workout gear, a far cry from the suits she wears to the office Monday through Friday. Over the summer she joined some combination book and walking club where she meets to talk about whatever book they’re reading while doing laps at the mall before it opens. It sounds incredibly boring to Alec, who has never been able to enjoy reading. It’s too much concentration and sitting still for his taste, even if you add in walking afterward. It makes his mom happy, though, which makes Alec happy.

“You excited for move-in day?”

Alec blows out a breath. He is and he isn’t. This is his senior year. His last year hanging out with his friends before some of them move back home or on to new jobs. Or in some cases, like Antonio, to start their families already. It’s his last year playing the game he loves before shit gets real. He knows everyone expects him to keep playing, to get scouted for MLS and go professional. It’s what people have expected of Alec since he joined the all-star soccer league and started winning championships. He’s always been good, really good, and he loves the game. Except lately that love has faded, dwarfed by a suffocating sense of dread. Especially since Alec hasn’t told anyone he has no desire to play professionally.

Spending the next decade or two of his life stuck on a specific nutritionist-approved diet plan and workout routine to keep his body in perfect shape isn’t exactly exciting. The prospect of knowing that his body belongs to other people before himself makes his chest tight. It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell his mother what’s been weighing on him when she speaks first.

“It’s okay to be emotional,” she says, moving past Alec towards the fridge. She pulls out the vanilla creamer she likes, fixing herself a large coffee in one of her favorite travel mugs that says, “You don’t want to argue with me, I’m a lawyer”, that Jason got her for Christmas last year. “Don’t worry, though. I know this won’t be the end of your soccer career. You’re too good and the MLS would be idiots to not scoop you up. Your dad and I have known you were meant for big things since the day you first kicked a ball. We’re so proud of you.”

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