I fired Sarah a look that very clearly said,What the hell are you doing?
She fired one right back and mouthed, “My scary best friend speech. How is it going?”
I widened my eyes, silently screaming,Catastrophic. Abort mission.
Her dimples popped.Never.
I exhaled, rubbing my forehead before saying, “Do you have anyactualquestions, or can I go give myself a lobotomy to erase this interaction from my memory?”
Sarah beamed like she’d just delivered the closing argument of a lifetime. “Nope, I’m good,” she said cheerfully. “Just needed to set the tone.”
“Fantastic,” I muttered. “Next time, let’s try for less tone and more tact.”
“Yes, okay, onlyquestions. No more threats,” she promised, voice all business now. “Khalifa—what’s Lilly’s favorite coffee order?”
He startled, like she’d yanked him from somewhere far away. He’d been quiet—too quiet—since Sarah’s story about my mom. His gaze had stayed fixed on me, heavy and unreadable, like he was trying to piece together all the hidden parts of me.
And of course, my brain immediately went rogue, wondering what he saw. If that one small slice of my past had shifted something in the way he looked at me, or made me seem different. Weaker, maybe. Not nearly as tough and confident as I pretended to be. What version of me was he seeing now that he knew the cracks weren’t metaphorical—they were structural?
The thought made something defensive rise in my chest. Instinct or muscle memory, I wasn’t sure. So I tilted my chin up a fraction and rolled my shoulders back until they were squared, as if altering my posture could alter the narrative. As if standing straighter might hide the fact that the ground inside me was still uneven.
“Um, oat milk latte, extra shot, two pumps vanilla in the morning,” he said finally. “And then an iced caramel macchiato in the afternoon. Half sweet, extra ice.”
Sarah nodded approvingly. “Good. I was worried you’d say black coffee or something equally tragic.”
He almost smiled, but his eyes didn’t leave mine until a full beat later. Under the table, his foot found mine. A small, deliberate press.
I didn’t move.
Neither did he.
“What’s her biggest pet peeve?”
“People who chew loudly. Or when someone messes up her pen organization system.”
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “She told you about the pens?”
“She didn’t have to,” he said. “I learned that lesson the hard way.”
My mouth fell open. “You put the blue pens in the black sectiononce—”
“And she didn’t speak to me for three hours,” he finished.
Sarah snorted. “That sounds about right.”
“Next question,” he said dryly.
“Okay, big shot.” She leaned back. “What’s her favorite movie?”
“My girl.”
Sarah made a face. “Ugh. I was hoping that was a trick question.”
He shrugged. “She’s sentimental.”
I tried not to smile, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me.
“What’s her biggest fear?”
