Page 52 of Never Never

But this is it, I guess.

With a clean-enough pair of jeans on, I sink back onto the mattress, rubbing my temples. There’s a few drink cans standing on my bedside table, so I reach over and give them each a shake until I find one that’s half-full for a sip of caffeine.

Mistake. It’s warm, fruity, and flat—too reminiscent of a mai tai. I put the can back down, almost gagging for the second time.

Nope. I need actual coffee.

I get up properly, head to the bathroom, manage to splash some water on my face and brush my teeth without barfing—small victory—and without waking anyone else up, either. Actually, it’s strangely quiet everywhere, I realize as I pad down the hall to the loft. Usually Wendy’s at least thumping around in her room by now, or Blue’s computer chair wheels rumbling across the floor. But nothing: just closed bedroom doors all around. I try to stay quiet as I rummage through the kitchenette. No coffee pods in the drawer, and there’s a box in the cabinet—that’s empty. Swearing softly, I pitch it toward the trash and look for any other option. Only thing I see is Kit’s espresso thing, which I have no idea how to use, and I’m not going to wake him up to ask.

Well, fine. Maybe the fresh air will do me some good.

After a quick jog back to my room for some cash and shoes, I head down the stairs. The shop’s quiet too—not that I’d expect Kit and Blue to be setting up for the day this early—and I’m just lacing my boots in the lounge, trying to remember what time the bakery down the block opens, when I hear the jingle of the bell over the shop door.

“Oh.”

I blink stupidly as Fox swings in, hands full. Seeing me, he brightens.

“Oh, hey, Tink,” he says. “You’re up early.”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing against my dry throat. “I…just woke up. Was gonna go get some…”

I stare at the cardboard carrier of cups in his hand, trying to compute how many are there.

“Coffee?” Fox says helpfully. “I got you, man. Er⁠—”

Behind him, Kit snorts. “Here.” He takes the carrier from Fox and offers it to me. “They’re all the same. Cuban-style, with an extra shot. We hit up Rosario’s.”

“Beautiful,” I croak, and pop out the closest cup to chug.

“Watch out,” Kit warns. “It’s⁠—”

“Agh!” I gulp down a lava-hot first sip, pain flaring all along my mouth and throat. “Jesus.”

Kit winces.

“…hot,” he finishes, taking a cup for himself. “They heat it just short of boiling down there. You okay?”

“Told you we should have gotten iced,” Fox mutters. Kit ignores him, eyes still on me.

“I’m fine,” I manage. Kit nods, sips his own coffee—more carefully, I notice—and settles onto one of the lounge couches.

“Should I even ask?”

“Just, uh…”

Images of last night flutter into my mind’s eye. The Lagoon, the Mermaids, Pan’s sticky, dripping face, Zuzu’s intense look of concentration, Wendy’s paper, Diamond…

…and then coming back here. Coming back here and seeing Pan. Again.

Oh. Ow.

Without meaning to, I shrink a bit into the couch cushions.

“I, uh…” I rub my forehead. Shit. I do remember talking to Pan. Yelling, really. “I may have gotten a little carried away.” I carefully sip the coffee again. And it is good. “I had a couple of drinks across the street beforehand. Just with Zuzu.”

“So you guys are friends now?” Kit asks, leaning forward and rummaging through the paper bag that smells like fried dough and sugar. My stomach clenches with jealousy. But I’m also not sure putting away any solid food is a good idea right this instant.

Instead, I think about Kit’s question. “Yeah, I guess we are,” I say. “But I’d just asked her to come help me think through some stuff about Wendy’s brothers, and…”