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I shook my head. “No.”
Adrienne was most definitely not Daria. Who I also knew better than seemed normal for co-workers. And I knew her girls too.
“Someone’s. Not mine, though.” Dustin draped an arm over Adrienne’s shoulders.
Adrienne smiled. “We work together.”
“You do the games too? That must be a lot of fun. Diet for you.” Heather pointed at Dustin. “Coffee, half-and-half.” She pointed at me. “And for you?” She asked Adrienne.
“Hmm.” Adrienne scrunched her nose in thought.
How was that cute? The kind of tiny detail that made a drawing three dimensional even when it was flat.
“Coffee. Sugar. Do you have the flavored creamers? Any of those. Surprise me,” Adrienne said.
“You got it, hon.” Heather left to grab our drinks.
I couldn’t help but tease Adrienne just a little. “If you don’t want to taste the coffee, you shouldn’t order the coffee.” I kept my tone light.
She stared back, unfazed. “You don’t salt your food? It’s a flavor enhancer.”
“Oh.” Dustin’s face lit up. “Like pineapple juice.”
And now breakfast had a cum joke involved. Yup, that was us.
Adrienne’s cheeks turned pink. “I’d have to take your word for it.”
“You don’t have to. There are easy ways to find out for yourself.” I shouldn’t be following this line of conversation. Now that I was thinking about how not-coworker-like Dustin and I were, it was obvious that I was drawn into every joke and jab and bit of innuendo, and that we were dragging Adrienne along for the ride.
Not that anyone seemed to mind. But there was a distinct line between jokes about blowjobs and offering to show someone if myths about pineapple juice making cum taste better were true.
Adrienne drew her finger down the back page of the laminated menu. “Doesn’t look like they have pineapple juice on the menu. Bummer.”
“Damn. Too bad no one else sells it,” Dustin teased.
I wasn’t doing this. Because then I’d be tempted to recreate last night, but naked, and fuck that was already too tempting. “You know what pineapples always make me think of?”
“South Park?” Adrienne asked.
“Paris Hilton?” Dustin added.
And she got the same references we did. I laughed in spite of myself, but I was still going to make this conversation not sexy. “Xenomorph eggs.”
“Gross,” Heather said as she passed our drinks to us. She took our food order.
When she was gone, Adrienne said, “I always thought the eggs looked more like… mangoes.”
“I was thinking avocado.” Dustin scooted the rainbow assortment of flavored creamer closer to her, then took a long drink of his Diet Coke.
Adrienne picked through the flavors, landing on green, and dumped a few into her drink. “They’re not bumpy enough to be avocado. Maybe avocado colored mangoes?”
“You’ve done an extensive study of Xenomorph eggs?” I wasn’t impressed. Maybe just a little. I was also just a little tempted to steal one of her flavored creamers. Just one Irish cream.
She raised her eyebrows. “Aliens is classic sci-fi horror. One of the best movies in its class, and one of the few that’s stood up to time.”
Fuck me, she was a fan. Why couldn’t she love, I didn’t know, conspiracy theory podcasts? Something completely unappealing. She did have one thing wrong, though.
“You mean Alien,” I said.
