I nod. Coffee has never tasted good to me, but Pops knows that, and makes it accordingly. I’ll drink anything if it’s filled to the brim with cream and sugar. Plus, the smell reminds me of being little, sitting on his lap while he read me picture books in funny voices. I settle myself on a stool next to him while he fixes my coffee. His hands are slow but steady.

“I don’t know why I’m up so early,” I say, trying to stifle a yawn. “I hate waking up this early on a normal day. Does coffee actually help keep you awake?”

“It does once you’re hooked,” he says, sliding a cup over to me. I bring it to my lips, blowing steam away. He’s watching me with smug eyes, like he’s waiting for something. “Of course, I’d be tired, too, if I was up all night making strange calls in my bedroom.”

I splutter a bit of coffee, scalding my tongue. It’s obvious that I was texting during dinner, I know, but I didn’t think I was being that loud when we were watching Netflix and chilling in the most literal sense possible. I can’t say that I was talking to Lydia or Claudia, because they had just left when me and Miles started talking. Pops knows me too well. His expression says it all. I almost resent him for it.

I put my cup down, bracing myself for a lecture. It could take a bunch of different forms—he could start talking about abstinence, or keeping secrets from him, or even talking on the phone too late.

“Uh,” I say, staring at my phone on the counter. He glances down at it, raising a brow as he looks back up at me. “Um, yeah. You know…”

“Who were you talking to, Simone?”

I watch the steam rising off my coffee.

“Well, it’s not like we were talking about anything weird,” I say, scratching the back of my head. I never got the chance to twist my hair last night, so now it’s a matted mess. “We were just watching Chicago. No big deal.”

“Why do you need someone on the phone with you while you watch a musical?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Why did Elphaba end up with Fiyero when Glinda was right there?”

I can’t tell if Pops is mad or not. He makes a face, eyes narrowed and lips pressed together. I tap my fingers on the counter, waiting for him to say something, but he’s silent. He just takes a long sip of coffee. I wish he’d say something. The last time I got in trouble was probably…Well, I can’t even remember.