Page 28 of Mommy

“What tea is this?” I ask.

Derek looks up at me.

“Rooibos.”

“Yeah, duh.” I roll my eyes. I knew that part. “I mean what brand is it?”

Eyes thinning and head cocking sideways Derek thinks about that for a moment before his lips pop open.

“What company name is printed on the bag?” I try to help him clear the confusion, but it does nothing to uncrinkle his handsome features.

“This is not the tea dust that gets sold in bags by huge companies that have nothing but your money in mind, Ivory. I got this in a real tea store for you,” he finally answers and now I’m the one left gaping.

Tea dust?

I’ve never heard of that. And I’m not sure if he is messing with me right now.

Apparently that is visible in my expression because before I can say something, Derek gets up from his stool and opens one of the kitchen cabinets. From inside he retrieves a metal box and when he hands it to me and I open it, I find it to be filled with loose leaf tea.

Tea that smells like heaven and looks nothing like the tea I’ve known. This is crumbly and has large pieces throughout. Compared to this, the stuff in the bags really is dust.

I inhale deeply and can’t suppress a moan, it slips past my lips before it registers. Derek goes stiff at the sound, his eyes flicking up and down my body.

The sound that comes from him in response is a mix of a groan and a snort and it has me clenching my things in an attempt to stifle the growing need between my thighs.

The energy switched from calm to sexually loaded way too fast.

“So, you work with the police. That must be fun.” I stumble through the words trying to get back into safer territories.

This time, the noise Derek makes is definitely a snort.

“Sure.” He says sarcastically. “If you like being surrounded by idiots, it’s great.”

“What does that mean?”

He sighs deeply.

“Only idiots think they can change the world for the better by doing honest police work. If it worked like that there wouldn’t be a large part of the population starving while a few elites gather enough money to spend it on bullshit.”

Sounds reasonable.

“Then why do you do it?”

Silence stretches between us for a long moment. A moment, where Derek stares at me until I feel like he tries to strip me bare with his eyes alone.

“For the same reason, you go to the shelter every day: To make a difference.” He shrugs, before digging back into his food. “You should finish that, we gotta go or you’ll be late.”

Tapping my phone screen I check the time and really… Half an hour has passed, leaving me with only 30 minutes to arrive at the gate for my morning shift.

While I eat, I think about what he said. It doesn’t make sense. Even if it sounds logical at first, it’s a contradiction in itself. If only idiots think being with the police will make a change, then why is he working there? And how does he make a change when he says his colleagues don’t?

My mind still circles around those questions when I follow Derek outside the house and down the walkway.

He opens the passenger door for me and I slip into the seat, but before he closes the door behind me, he places something in my lap.

It’s another large glass container.

Lunch.