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When we finally sit down at some little cafe that "absolutely has the best coffee in the city," I am in heaven. It's such a quaint place. Most New York restaurants are tiny--the tables are packed so tightly they're almost touching--but this one is especially cozy. The walls are painted pink and there's a huge clock on the wall that says "it's time for tea."
I take a picture with my phone and send it to Luke. He'd kill to get that clock in his house. Well, maybe not. It wouldn't exactly fit with his sparse I'm not going to decorate until you agree the house is ours not mine decor.
I shake my head. I don't need to deal with anyone's attitude today. I don't need anything but the giant mug of coffee in front of me. It's damn good coffee--strong and nutty with hints of cinnamon. I squeeze honey onto my spoon and bring it to my lips, letting the sweet substance coat my tongue. I could really put this honey to good use under different circumstances...
"Are you going to order food or are you just going to make love to your coffee?" Laurie asks.
"You should know better than to get between me and coffee," I say.
Laurie watches me lick every bit of honey off my spoon. I raise my eyebrows--a real you got a problem? kind of look. She just shakes her head.
"I wish someone loved me as much as you love that spoon."
"It's not the spoon. It's the honey." I squeeze more honey onto the spoon, this time stirring it into my coffee. Then I add a little almond milk and the drink is perfect--sweet, creamy, rich.
"So you and Luke use that when you fuck, right?"
"I need three coffees before I can even think about answering that question."
"He seems like he'd be kinky."
"Oh yeah?"
She nods. "Definitely."
"And what does he seem like he'd be into?" I ask.
Laurie screws up her nose. "I can't even think about it, or I'll get madly jealous that no one is that into me. God. He's so lovesick. Every time I look at him, he's about to burst."
"I thought you were done talking about our sex life."
"Not like that." She stirs sugar into her coffee.
"When did you see Luke?" I ask.
She shrugs like it's no big deal, but she doesn't fool me. Something is up. "You like eggs? This place has amazing omelets. Amazing."
I don't think about what I like. I eat food I know won't mess with me mentally or physically.
"I eat oatmeal."
"Fuck oatmeal," she says. "Get something good. Your BFF is visiting you in New York City. You need to celebrate it."
I narrow my eyes. "Not that you care?"
"Okay. Order whatever makes you happy. You like oatmeal, order oatmeal. It's not like oatmeal is the most boring, awful breakfast food. And it's not like you could have oatmeal at home for twenty-five cents any time you want."
"Maybe I like oatmeal."
"Okay, fine. You like oatmeal, you want oatmeal. Whatever. I'm sure you still have to watch your weight."
The waitress returns and I butt in before Laurie can order. "We're not ready yet, but can we get more coffee? And more almond milk? Thanks." I turn back to Laurie, folding my arms. I'm not going to start with this. Not today. Hell, not any day.
"At least you like the coffee," Laurie says. She shakes her head, slightly irritated.
I'm not about to open this can of worms.
"I really do like oatmeal."
