Page 75 of Late Fees

“Kevin. What did he leave for me?”

Kevin sighed. “Oh, right. Like a snack or whatever. You were late, so it had already melted. I threw it away.”

“Threw what away?”

“Kevin, I told you I would put it in the freezer in the back,” Marley said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Sorry, it got busy up here.” He shrugged one shoulder as he started scanning in the tapes, avoiding eye contact. “Giving you a drink some guy left behind isn’t really my priority, you know.”

“Tilly, I’m sorry, I should’ve—” Marley started, but I placed my hand on her forearm.

“It’s okay, Marley.” I turned back to Kevin. “Where is it?”

“Where do you think? It’s in the trash,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Can I get back to work now?”

“Where are the Reese’s?” Marley demanded, and my heart climbed into my throat.

“The what?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Kevin said, grabbing a bright orange wrapper that was tucked next to the two rewinding machines on the counter. “Here.”

In my hand, I had every answer I needed.

A package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. And in the trash was something that melted. I knew exactly what it was.

Memories flooded my brain like an open dam. Memories of the afternoon that Wyatt and I shared a Cherry Coke Slurpee. Holding my breath, I grabbed the small trash can from under the desk and saw the familiar cup. Kevin wasn’t lying when he said it had melted, but there was a tiny bit of ice still in the liquid.

“I’m sure it’s still good. I won’t judge you if you want to drink it,” Marley said with a sliver of hope in her eyes. I stared down at the melted brown liquid with swirls of bright red. Tears welled in my eyes as I stared at Kevin, so hurt that he’d tried to hide this from me.

“I can’t believe you could be so…small.”

“Small?” he asked, defensively crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I was busy with my job. I’m not here to be your personal secretary, Weezer.”

He used the nickname that he knew I couldn’t stand.

Oh, no, he di-int.

“That was a shitty thing to do, Clooney. You know it, and I know it.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

“Just admit it,” I demanded.

“Admit what? That I was too busy to remember your boy toy’s gifts?”

“He’s not my boy toy.”

“Oh, really? Then who is he?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Yeah, well, apparently you two are pretty chummy if he’s dropping off Slurpees and candy.”

“So, what if we are?”

“Hey,” a voice called from the floor. Emmett’s brow was knitted. “Take this to the back room.”

“There aren’t any customers in the store,” Kevin snapped.

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