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I reply that I'm fine but that isn't feeling accurate at the moment.
I wait in line with Ethan, my eyes on the brown-and-cream menu board. When it's our turn, I order an unsweetened matcha latte with almond milk. Ethan orders an iced coffee.
"With almond milk." He turns to me. "So you can have a taste."
"It's yours."
"When did that ever stop you?"
Never. But what's he doing hanging out on memory lane?
He turns back to the barista. "Better make that a large."
"I would never." I fold my arms over my chest in protest.
"If you insist." He shrugs and hands over his credit card.
Damn, I shouldn't let him pay, but I'm not sure how close I am to my credit limit. Between my scholarship and loans, I have tuition covered, but New York City is expensive. My job tutoring math undergrads isn't exactly a full-time gig. Even with the money I have saved from my paid summer internship, I'm always scrimping in order to come up with rent.
"Thanks." I unclench my teeth enough I'm not muttering.
Ethan nods. He moves to the pickup window and pours a splash of almond milk in his iced coffee.
I clear my throat.
He laughs. "Needs more?"
"It's yours."
"Last I heard, Violet Valentine is the foremost expert on almond milk in cold brew iced coffee."
This time, I laugh. "Well, in my expert opinion…" I take the carton and pour until the drink is about to overflow. I take a sip to test the flavor. It's creamy enough but it's not quite sweet. I pick up the simple syrup. "You need a dash of this too."
"Not that you're going to drink half of this."
"Of course not."
I add a few splashes of simple syrup. Ethan is looking at me with that same smile. And I can feel my cheeks at my ears.
My chest is light, easy. I put the simple syrup back. I grab a lid and a straw. Still, he's looking at me with affection.
"Ethan…" I've got no clue how to finish the sentence. This feels like how things used to be.
His fingers brush mine as he takes the drink. Then he wraps his lips around the straw. My eyes refuse to leave those lips. My brain refuses to do anything but remember how those lips felt wrapped around mine.
Or sucking on my nipple.
Or between my legs.
"Here." He offers me the iced coffee.
"It's yours."
"Tell me if it's perfect."
I cock a brow. "In my expert opinion?"
He nods. His smile widens.
