“He reminds me of you,” Bennett murmured, leaning his forearms on the table.
“Me?” Sandro murmured back. “I was never this chatty.”
“No, but that’s not what I meant. You had the same energy.”
Sandro eyed Eli, who was now discussing, for whatever reason, the sugar content of flavored syrups. “I don’t think so.”
“Who did the Macarena on a table at our graduation party?” Bennett asked blandly.
“Jimmy dared me to.”
“Who photobombed literally every single photo at Daryl’s New Year’s party?”
“I can’t help it if the camera loves my cheekbones.”
“Who skateboarded off the hood of Coach’s car?”
“Hey, at least I didn’t go streaking at homecoming.”
“Jimmy dared me to,” Bennett deadpanned.
Sandro didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but laugh.
Before he could contemplate what that meant and why he felt a little tingly, Eli interrupted the moment. “So you do know each other. I wondered since you played on the same college hockey team, but you didn’t exchange two words today.”
Without missing a beat, Bennett said, “I was working. Sandro was giving me space to do that. How was the sugar cookie latte?”
Oblivious to the obvious subject change, Eli grinned and held up his empty shot glass. “Tastes like Christmas. How come you haven’t had yours yet?”
Bennett swirled the liquid in his own glass, then downed it like a shot. And immediately gasped for air. “Oh, Christ, that’s—” He coughed like it had gone down the wrong pipe, his face twisting into a grimace. “Don’t do it,” he said to Sandro. “You’ll hate it.”
Well, now Sandro had to try it.
“Why?” Eli asked as Sandro swished the liquid around in his mouth. “He likes the gingerbread latte.”
Bennett coughed again. “This is a wholly different beast.”
“Yeah, no, that’s terrible.” Sandro dropped his shot glass into Bennett’s before cleansing his palate with his latte.
Eli looked positively crestfallen. “But the gingerbread latte . . .”
“Is not at all the same thing. The gingerbread adds a hint of spice. This . . .” Sandro shook the shot glasses. “This tastes like . . .”
“A sugar cookie?” Eli offered.
“My grandmother’s Christmas dessert table.”
“It was a thing of beauty,” Bennett commented.
“Even though we barely ate anything off it,” Sandro added.
“Wait.” Eli waved a finger between them. “When did you spend the holidays together?”
“Uh . . .” Bennett sent Sandro an oh-shit glance. “It was in college.”
Eli looked ready to say more, but he was interrupted by his phone. He glanced at it and stood in a panic. “Shit, I forgot there’s somewhere I need to be.”
“Seriously?” Sandro checked his watch. “We’ve been here less than half an hour.”
