Although, come to think of it, Al wasn’t exactly an authority on what was and wasn’t good for humans. Jude had a visceral, warlike flashback to watching Al sprinkle coffee grounds into a single-serve container of blueberry yogurt.
“Isaid, what can I get you,sir,” the barista repeated. She was clearly an overworked student at a part-time gig, and was not getting paid enough to deal with Jude, who was standing there gaping at the menu like a dumbass while a line formed behind him.
“Sorry,” he said hastily. “I’ll take a—a hot chocolate.” He picked the drink at random, and the barista raised an eyebrow at him—the heat index that day was nearly 102—but made no further comment except to tell him his total and to ask for his name. Jude paid with his debit card, wincing a little as he remembered his rapidly dwindling funds, and thought to himself,I can’t afford kids anyway.
Shaking the thought away, Jude thanked the barista—she ignored him—and waited at the other end of the counter for his drink. When it arrived, the name scribbled on the side was “Rude,” which, fair enough.
Jude picked a booth as far away from other patrons as possible and sat there, nursing his hot chocolate. It wasn’t terrible, all things considered, but definitely was not conducive to the desert heat. Thank god for air conditioning.
About ten minutes later, Corbin slid into the booth seat across from Jude, a giant iced coffee in his hands that made Jude ache inside with so much want it was almost obscene. Fuck hot chocolate, he wanted a proper college student drink with ten tons of sugar and caffeine and only a hint of coffee.
Is this a pregnancy craving,he wondered,or do I just have a caffeine addiction?
He supposed that the two weren’t mutually exclusive, and concluded that he really hated his new internal monologue. It was way too hyperfocused on the thing he would rather forget. Was it too much to ask to live in obstinate denial for just a little longer? Not even all that long. He’d settle for just a few days.
“—presentation was a disaster,” Jude realized Corbin was saying. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been speaking—since it was Corbin, it was possible he’d been talking since the moment he’d walked through the cafe doors—but Jude had been too preoccupied fantasizing about lattes to remember to pay attention. That was all right, though. Corbin didn’t need an attentive audience. Jude could swap himself out for a store mannequin and Corbin would be okay.
Jude made a few “uh-huh” and “you don’t say” noises, and let Corbin ramble about… something, until he finally ran out of steam and said, “Anyway, enough about little old me. Tell me about your boy troubles, and please spare no details.”
Unfortunately for Corbin, Jude intended to spare several details, but it couldn’t be helped. If he told the truth, Corbin might forcibly take him to a psych ward for being totally off his rocker, and what if the doctors there discovered his “condition”? Before he knew it, he’d be locked in a government facility somewhere in the middle of the desert getting experimented on by the Men in Black because he was his own walking, talkingX-Filesepisode.
Yeah, no, he was better off keeping it vague.
“My friend with benefits caught feelings, and I’m not sure what to do about it,” was what he decided to say. Technically all true. Corbin couldn’t help him with the science fiction parts of his dilemma, but when it came to love and romance, he usually had good advice. Or, at least, advice.
Corbin screwed his face up into an exaggerated look of confusion.
He asked, “Hecaught feelings foryou?”
“Yeah.”
“Not the other way around?”
“Corbin.”
“And this is the Greek god we’re talking about?”
“Yes.”
“And you’resureit’s not the other way around?”
“Trying hard not to get offended here,” Jude said flatly, and Corbin held up his hands in surrender.
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just—you can’t exactly blame me for being skeptical, can you? Remember your fling with Juan from statistics class?”
“Okay, I didn’t catch like,seriousfeelings for him, I just—”
“And Aaron the RA? Or Loren, the guy who you slept with at that frat party?”
“Listen—”
“And that one time in freshman year of high school when you thought you might actually be straight because Beatrice Miller had a crush on you, and you were so starved for attention that you mistook flattery for affection?”
“Okay, I get it! I’m slutty and pathetic, point taken. Now can you help me withthissituation, please?” Jude was rapidly regretting his choice in confidants.
“I’m not sure what sort of help you’re looking for, hon.” Corbin hitched an eyebrow. “The hottest himbo on the planet has the genuine hots for you. I say your next step is to get married.”
“That’s not helpful,” Jude grumbled. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and grimaced. It tasted fine, but it wasn’t iced coffee, and therefore it was now disgusting.
