Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(44)

I stop what I’m doing and lean my back against the counter. “Why are you being weird?” For the last two weeks, Asher’s been completely business-like, never mentioning my enrollment at Carter except when making out my schedule or in shooing me out the door if I’m running late so I don’t miss my curfew. His sudden interest seems a bit out of place.

He lets out a laugh, throwing his head back, giving me full view of his Adam’s apple. His neck is so thick it’s a wonder his shoulders can support it. “I’m not being weird.”

“Look,” I sigh, “if you want to pick on me about going to Carter, just do it. I’m used to it.” I gesture to the cafe, indicating my new resilience to the matter, thanks to the patrons of Word.

Of course, as the new girl, I’ve been subject to lots of “get to know you” questions from the rest of the staff and regulars at the coffee shop. I try to get my educational institution out of the way immediately, so they can get on with their “Hey, angel,” and “Thank you for my blessed coffee,” remarks.

Asher’s face darkens, however, and rather than spearing me with well-crafted Bible quips, he goes on the defensive. “What makes you think I’d want to tease you about where you go to school?”

I arch an eyebrow, unconvinced of his wounding at my words. “Because it’s ridiculous.”

“Then you shouldn’t go there,” he challenges. “Frankly, I haven’t figured out why you are there.”

Both eyebrows raise as I drop my mouth open. “Why? Because I don’t wear a Jesus pin or try to save your customers? There’s a lot more to being a Christian than smacking people over the head with your Bible, Asher.” While I haven’t seen a ton of evidence of this among the students of Carter, it’s there. Especially in my super gentle RA, Maggie, who constantly motivates me to do the right thing, quoting scripture to encourage, rather than condemn.

Asher’s face breaks into a smile and he smacks my shoulder. “There she is. I thought you’d gone soft on me already after three weeks on the hill. Keep that fight, girl. It looks good on you.”

My cheeks heat, though I’m certain he’s not flirting with me. Asher is far too professional to engage in anything like that. “Thanks,” I mumble.

He tilts his chin. “Customer.”

Turning, I find Jonah at the counter, All-American heartbreaking smile on his face. “Hey! I was wondering if I’d ever see any of you while I was working. Who’s with you?” I crane my neck to see if I spot any of our “group,” but don’t see anyone I recognize.

Jonah points to a far table, where two guys wave. “John and Matt. They’re on my floor, too.”

“What,” I chuckle, “Mark and Luke were busy studying?” I slap my hand over my mouth as Jonah cracks up over my very own Gospel joke. “I promise I’m not that funny,” I assure him. “You just bring it out of me, I guess.”

“Well, I like it.”

Jonah orders and moves to the end of the bar while I get busy making the drinks. Things with Eden and Jonah are in a holding pattern until Eden stops being twelve. No, really. The poor girl is awfully insecure for being such a freaking knockout, and each time we’ve discussed me moving forward with setting something up between her and Jonah, she begs me not to. “Not yet,” she says. Apparently she’s not ready.

In my high school, a girl like Eden would not only have her pick of guys—she’d take that pick of guys. While I appreciate the naiveté around the whole dating scene here at Carter, Eden seems to truly believe she’s not good enough for Jonah, and that ticks me off. Because, while Jonah may walk and talk like a perfect Son of God, I know he’s not. He can’t be. He’s just a confused kid like the rest of us. To Eden, though, Jonah is perfect. Maybe it’s best that they’re not currently dating after all. It’s an esteem neither of them would be able to live up to. An almost too-perfect couple.

“Here you go.” I hand Jonah the lattes and a smile.

He smiles back and thanks me politely.

Sigh. He and Eden really would be perfect together. If such a thing were to exist, it would be between them.

I’m so certain of it, I decide to act. “Jonah,” I call after him just as he turns away.

“Yeah?” He turns, still expertly balancing three cups of hot coffee.

“Oh,” I wave my hands toward him, “go drop your drinks and come back.” In the meantime, I fill another two orders, and when they’re up, Jonah is standing patiently for me at the end of the bar.

“What’s up?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. “I, um, have something I need to ask you.” I fiddle with my fingers, suddenly feeling twelve myself, and not blaming Eden one bit. Jonah’s quite disarming, what with his confidence and smile and insanely unmoving belief in God. So, yeah, if you like that sort of thing, Jonah is aces.

He chuckles. “What is it?”

One more deep breath for courage, and I finally look up. “She’ll kill me if she knows it started with me, but Eden really wants you to ask her out on a date.” I say all of the words at once.

It seems like it takes Jonah a minute to put them in correct order in his brain. He scrunches his eyebrows and clears his throat while a mysterious look swirls through his eyes. “Eden?”