“Hi,” I finally managed, and it came out too breathless, like I’d sprinted a mile — which, okay, not far off.
“You made it,” she said, quiet.
“You stayed,” I replied, even quieter.
She gestured to the other side of the table. Her expression was unreadable. She wasn’t sure what this was, either. But she hadn’t left. And I hadn’t chickened out. So that was something.
I sat. Immediately realized I was sitting weird. Tried to adjust. My Crocs made a loud farting noise on the tile and I very nearlydiedon the spot.
Juniper pressed her lips together; an expression that told me she was tryingveryhard not to laugh. And just like that, the pressure cracked.
“Sorry,” I muttered, looking down. “Wasn’t exactly planning on running out the door this morning like a deranged Muppet.”
She tilted her head. “Is that what you were going for?”
“Just trying to impress you.” I met her eyes. “Clearly, it’s working.”
This time, shedidlaugh — quick and sharp, and it hit me right in the chest.
I was so,soscrewed.
“Nuh-uh.” She said quickly, clamping her mouth shut and shaking her head. “No flirty business. No funny business. I’ll leave, Barlowe.”
I held up both hands like she was a cop and I was absolutely guilty. “Not flirting. I swear.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That was flirting.”
“Okay, it was banter adjacent,” I allowed, carefully. “But not dangerous. Barely even flirt-shaped.”
“Flirt-shaped,” she repeated. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is now.” I leaned back, trying to look casual. It didn’t work — Crocs, remember. “Look, I get it. Truly. No funny business. No charming rogue act. Just… coffee. Maybe, eventually, friendship.”
She didn’t say anything to that. Just looked down at her sleeves, pulling the edge over her knuckles again and again.
“I wasn’t joking, you know,” I said, softer. “About the friend part. I don’t… I don’t have a lot of those. Not real ones.”
That got her eyes back on mine.
I shrugged, half-laughing to deflect. “Turns out, when the world thinks you’re a dick, most people don’t stop to ask if it’s true.”
She studied me for a long second.
Then, quietly, “Sometimes the world doesn’t care if youarea dick. They just decide you are and move on.”
Our eyes locked again. This time, there was something level in it. Something tired and understanding and just a little raw.
“Exactly,” I breathed.
And that’s when the silence changed.
Not soft, not tense — just… level. Familiar. Two people so very tired of pretending they’re okay.
CHAPTER 15
“And are you?”
“Am I what?” he asked, quietly thanking the server as she topped his coffee off.
