Ethereal

Chapter 21: The Soup Pot

Over the course of the next several days I made it a point to stay below deck as much as possible. I kept to my room, only going out to get my meal portions and to finish my night shifts in the crow's nest. I was being a coward by avoiding Jax, but I couldn't face him – not yet. I needed to sort out my own feelings before I could face him again.

I had kissed him without thinking about my family waiting for me back at Camp. I was so swept up in my own emotions that I neglected to think of them, my sole purpose for being here in the first place. Once I returned to Camp and found them, we would find some way to escape, and I would have to leave Jax behind.

Even if there was the slightest chance that Jax wanted to leave with me, I couldn't live with the idea of taking him away from his own family that could be waiting for him as well back at Camp. There was no use chasing after something that would only end in disaster.

After all, I've only known Jax for a few weeks, barely a month at that. This was only a crush, a simple lust that would fade with time. That's what I tried telling myself, anyway.

In the days that I kept to myself, my mind never strayed far from Jax. I wonder what he thought after I almost kissed him and left right afterwards. Was he upset? Angry? With his looks and charm I wouldn't be surprised if he had a line of girls waiting for him back at Camp. Being rejected by me probably didn't even wound his ego.

The more I thought about Jax, I realized how little I knew about him. How did he even end up at the Camp? What crime did he commit to be sentenced to such a place? What if I was flirting with a murderer? My chest thumped with the growing beat of my heart as worry seeped into my bones. The more my mind turned over that possibility, the surer I felt that Jax wasn't capable of doing such a thing. My gut told me he was far from a cruel and violent person, but that didn't excuse the fact that I don't really know this boy, and I'm risking far too much by getting involved with him.

Yes, it was better that I cut whatever we had off now, rather than to get too caught up and have my heart broken down the road. This still didn't stop me from tracing the lines of my lips late at night when I couldn't sleep, imagining what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine.

It also didn't stop me from pulling Jax's shirt out from its hiding place at night, where I tucked it between the hay bales and the wall so it would always be close to me. It felt too creepy of me to wear it, but I didn't want to return it either. So there it stayed behind my bed. Only removed for the occasional stroke of the hand when I couldn't sleep or woke from a nightmare. His smell of sea salt and damp earth would then coax me back into a state of ease.

I flicked away the shell of an onion that had fallen on my pant leg, shifting my position on the hay bale so I could stretch out my legs more. Though my night shifts ended a few days ago, my muscles still ached from all the odd positions I folded myself into to help me fall asleep in the crow's nest. Not to mention the poor state of my hands. Almost every finger was wrapped in a piece of gauze to protect either a blister or a cut I had earned from the knife peeling vegetables. My joints ached and my skin felt raw, my clothes stunk from sea salt and sweat that made the color fade from the fabric. I didn't mind all of this so much, though. Working at the orphanage was hardly any easier, and it taught me how to endure hard labor. I even enjoyed it at times as it would distract my mind and get my blood pumping, leaving me with a feeling of calm at the end of the day knowing that I had earned my rest.

I tossed the last onion into the bag and made my way back to the kitchen. Grouch-o didn't care that I did my work in my closet now. If anything, else he enjoyed it more so because it meant I wasn't hanging around as much. Grouch-o had his back turned towards me as he hovered over his soup pot. The steam from the pot bellowed and hissed – an ominous sign that something was amiss.