Page 37 of The Perfect Love

He pulls two bright purple cans from the bag. They look like soda, but not one I recognize.

“What’s that?”

His face lights up. “Oh, it’s called Loganberry—which is an actual berry, a cross between a raspberry and a blackberry. I don’t know if there are actual loganberries in it, but it’s delicious.” His face is all nostalgia as he looks at the cans. “Tastes like my childhood. It’s fruity in a sort of indescribable way, and not carbonated.”

“I’m always here for trying new things.”

“Good to know,” he says smoothly. He pops both cans open, then hands one to me. “Cheers.”

God, he’s like the sweetest little puppy right now. So genuinely excited to share this really special thing with me.

I take a sip, letting the fruity flavor dance on my taste buds.

“Holy shit. That’s really good.” I take another sip, surprised by how delicious it is. “Where is this from and how did I not know about it?”

I’m practically chugging it now, which makes him smile.

“It originated in Canada, I think, but it’s popular in western New York. Especially Buffalo. You can find it scattered elsewhere, though. It’s always been a special treat for me. It was my dad’s favorite.”

Was. That’s the first time he’s mentioned his dad. I kind of assumed his mom was a single parent by the way he talked about her, and maybe she is, but I’m guessing not in the way I thought.

“Was?”

He swallows thickly, a sad smile crossing his face. “Yeah. My dad died when I was eleven.”

Without a thought, I reach over and take his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. It sucks, but little moments like this, sharing something he loved with someone, helps keep his memory alive.”

I move a little closer. “Thank you for sharing it with me. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out the whole time.”

Some brightness returns to his features. “I’m glad you like it. It’s fun converting people.”

“That makes it sound a little more cult-y, but fair enough.”

“Hey, you’ve met my friends.”

I snort at that. “They seem pretty great, though.”

“Yeah. They are.”

“How long have you been friends with them?”

“Pretty much my whole life. I met most of them in kindergarten or first grade. They’re the kind of people who always show up for their friends, even outside of the six of them. Of course, everyone knows everyone in Ida. I’m sure you know how that goes.”

“Oh yeah. Small towns. It’s cool you’ve always had that, though. Close friends.”

“Do you have anything like that?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly. I consider Robbie my best friend because I grew up stitched to his side. As adults, we love the same books and have similar tastes in most things, so we’re naturally close. He’s a big part of the reason I chose SUNY FL to transfer to. I do have a couple of friends back home, but we’re not as close as we used to be. Growing up and stuff…”

I try to hide my cringe at how dumb that sounds.

“I have one of those too,” he says. “It happens, and it sucks, but it also shows you the people who really matter.”

“Yeah. It does.”

“Did you make any friends at your previous school?”

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