“
She inhaled the steam rising from the coffee without touching it. “I’m very picky about my coffee.”
“White chocolate peppermint latte, half skim, half soy, no whip, extra white chocolate sauce on the bottom and a drizzle on top.”
Her gaze shot up, watching me over the rim of the cup with a hint of incredulity. “How’d you know?”
I shrugged. “Maybe we like the same drinks.” Or maybe Wendy had told me the other day when she balanced three cups of coffee in the elevator.
Liya clamped her mouth shut but covered the warm cup with her petite hands. Her glossy red nails clicked against the sturdy paper cup, drowning out the muted sounds of others in the hallway beyond the open door.
“It’s okay,” I assured her.
“I don’t think you did anything to the coffee.”
“I mean it’s okay to smile because someone brought you your picky-ass latte.”
She took a sip. “We’re not friends, you know?”
“No one forgets being told they’re not friends,” I said teasingly, knowing full well she didn’t want to be friends but yet, here we were.
A smile crept across her lips, even though she tried hard to stop it.
”
”