Page 176 of A Taste of Vanilla

His pen pauses, and his eyes find mine. The look he gives me is so flat and unimpressed that I feel it somewhere in my belly.

“Fine,” I say. “Rarely. But it happens.”

“No.”

“Once.”

“No.”

“I… slept. Once.”

“That’s not quiet; that’s being unconscious.”

I point the milk thermometer at him. “You’re being way too hostile for six in the morning.”

“You’ve been accusing me of coffee crimes.” He says it like he’d rather be discussing quite literally anything else.

“I wouldn’t be accusing you if you weren’t committing them.”

His gaze flicks to the coconut syrup and back to me. “I drink black coffee.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re saying it like you’re desperate to convince yourself of the fact.”

“It’s a preference.”

“Okay.”

His mouth moves just a little, but it’s enough, and I hate how fluent in Warren King’s microscopic emotions I’ve become.

He looks back at his notebook. “We’re not discussing my coffee.”

“Oh, we absolutely are.”

“We’re discussing the menu.”

“Your coffee is part of that.”

“It’s not.”

“Your coffee lies are important to the overall health of this place. A coconut latte is one of my signatures this week, and you secretly want one.”

“I don’t.”

I pick up the coconut syrup and shake it once. His eyes dart to it.

I gasp.

He looks immediately irritated. “Halston. I do not.”

My name feels like a warning, and heat moves down my spine.

We’ve been pretending that night never happened. None of it. Obviously the kiss happened. I can still feel his lips on mine if I stop and let myself think about it for more than half a second. The way his hands rested at my waist, and the low sound he made when I pulled his hair and the careful way he stopped himself from taking more than he should even though it broke me.

Warren did the honorable thing, even if it was the last thing I needed in the moment. But it hurt my feelings.

He had kissed me like he was willing to forget every boundary, then looked at me like I was just another item on his list to assess. Too messy. Too likely to cause issues.

And on the other hand, I feel guilty. Why was I so ready to throw my best friend’s feelings on the subject out the window?