Page 99 of All Your Pucking Secrets

I look around and spot his water bottle behind us; I uncap it and drink. When a bitter, slightly salty taste fills my mouth, I sputter.

“What the hell is this?” I demand, outraged.

His mouth twitches, but he manages not to laugh. “Electrolyte solution.”

“It’s terrible.”

“But it’s lemon and lime flavor,” he protests. “Everyone loves citrus.”

“Not when it tastes like that.” I wipe my lips on the back of my hand. “I’ll have to buy a coffee now to rinse my mouth out.”

He rolls his eyes. “You poor soul.” Then his expression turns serious. “Can we talk?”

For a brief moment, I ponder the idea of rejecting him, but he’s making an effort, and surely, I owe it to the past three years of our friendship to at least hear him out.

“As long as we can get coffee first.”

“Do I look like an idiot? Of course I’m getting you coffee.”

He takes the drink bottle from me and, together, we pick up the balls and return them to the machine. Then we head to a cafe a block away. It’s almost empty, which is surprising so close to lunch time, but when I sip my caramel mocha, I realize why. The coffee is terrible.

“This is so bad,” I murmur, not wanting the server to overhear me.

“Is it?” He looks surprised. “Mine is fine. Maybe you’re just more of a coffee snob than me.”

I glare at him but can’t deny it. “Perhaps they make better oat milk coffees than dairy-based coffees.”

His face is full of doubt, but he keeps his mouth shut.

“So…” I guess there’s no better time than now to get to the point. “I’m glad you invited me to do this. I miss spending time with you. I just have trouble with the fact I don’t know where your friendship for me starts and your obligation to Tyler ends.”

He wraps his hands around his coffee mug. “Everything I’ve ever done with you has been because I wanted to. Well,”— he smirks— “everything except that time you made me watch the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice.”

I laugh at the memory, and it breaks some of the tension between us. “Yeah, but you made it clear you didn’t enjoy that by cringing every two seconds.”

He shrugs. “How else was I supposed to react to women in pretty dresses hunting men for their wallets—or rejecting them for the same reason?”

“That’s what you took away from Pride and Prejudice?” I shake my head. “I need to get better friends.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.” His gaze is serious now. “BBC aside, I love spending time with you. I don’t want to lose you.”

I close my eyes and release a pent-up breath. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

When I open my eyes again, his face has brightened.

“Really?”

Our conversation reminds me of evenings of laughter, shared study sessions, and confidences exchanged about almost everything.

“We could take it day by day. I don’t have many friends, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

“I’d like that.”

We smile at each other, and for a moment, everything feels right with the world, but then Ryan’s phone buzzes. He checks the screen.

“Damn. I have to get going.”

I frown. “Where to?”

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