“All my drinks are good,” he says, sounding hurt.
I laugh and make him that damn cappuccino, sure to put a double shot of lime in it. How’s he dream up this s**t? As I froth the milk, I ask, “You want whipped cream? I know you do.”
Josh leans over to reach for a napkin and sees the one I was doodling on. “Hearts? Who’s the lucky guy?”
“No one.” My face feels flushed and I ball the napkin up, cursing myself for leaving it out where he could see it.
Josh doesn’t give up that easily. “Tell me. Seth who?”
When I don’t answer immediately, he scratches the chalk across the board. “No one, okay? I was just bored.”
Setting down the board, Josh pouts. “Bullshit. No special today—I can’t think of anything good. Who’s the guy?”
“Nobody,” I say again. “You want whipped cream on this thing or no
