Jules appears five minutes later, rain droplets still clinging to her shoulders, having ditched her jean jacket somewhere between the office and here. Her purple hair's in a high ponytail, wet strands plastered against the nape of her neck.
"Sammy!" she calls, massaging her temple with two fingers as she slides into the booth. "I need something with an umbrella, and enough alcohol to make me forget I spent nine hours staring at code that refuses to comply."
"Long day, huh?" Sammy grins, already reaching for the good rum. He's got a soft spot for Jules—probably because she tips like someone who actually worked in food service.
"Thelongest." She slides into the booth across from me, immediately stealing a pretzel from the basket. Her fingers are stained with ink from where she was probably chewing on her pen during the afternoon meeting. "And you got a Sam Adams because you've transformed into a walking Boston cliché."
"It's reliable," I say, taking a sip. "Like me."
"Ew, gross. Since when?"
"Since Xander started paying me to be reliable."
"Valid point." Jules accepts her drink—something electric blue, with enough fruit speared through it to count as dinner—and takes a long sip, leaving a smudge of her remaining lipstick on the glass. "Speaking of workplace disasters, Leo's presentation today was epic. Forty slides of corporate word salad, then he somehow deleted the entire thing mid-demo."
I snort, nearly choking on my beer. "Xander's poker face was incredible. I thought his eye was going to start twitching."
"He was texting me under the table the whole time." Jules digs through her bag and pulls out her phone, showing me a meme of a cartoon character in a burning room with the caption "This is fine."
"We're terrible human beings," I wheeze between laughs.
"Absolutely awful," Jules agrees with unholy glee, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Almost as bad as your first-week coffee machine flood."
I groan, hiding my face in my hands. "Why are we friendsagain?"
"Because I'm the only person who witnessed your caffeine-related crime scene and still thinks you're worth keeping around." Jules takes another sip, studying me over her glass. "Plus, you've somehow managed to become a functional human since then."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, seriously. ThoseHamiltontickets you snagged for Xander's birthday? Legendary."
"Sarah's cousin owed me a favor after I helped him move." I shrug. "Figured Xander deserved something good after I nearly destroyed the office infrastructure."
"What about stepping in for Matt at Sarah's cooking class last weekend? That was legitimately nice."
"That was . . ." I search for the right word. "Educational."
"Sarah said you set off the smoke alarm twice and got banned from using the stand mixer." Jules's laugh is sharp and genuine. "But you went anyway. Even knowing it would be torture."
The observation hangs in the air between us, heavier than her usual teasing.
"Boston's been good for me," I say finally. "Really good. I just—"
"Just what?"
I shrug, suddenly fascinated by peeling the label off my beer bottle. "Sometimes it feels like something's missing."
Jules opens her mouth to respond, but freezes mid-thought, her attention snagging on something behind me.
"Okay," she says slowly, her voice taking on that matchmaker tone I've learned to fear. "Two o'clock. Leather jacket, great smile, legs that go on for actual days. She could totally be your type."
I don't lift my eyes from my beer.
"Caleb."
"Mm?"
"You didn't even look."
