And, of course, the fireworks are beautiful, and I take a couple of pictures to post on Instagram, but my heart’s not really in it. Hell, I’m starting to wish I’d just locked myself in my closet and never come out.

As things start winding down, Devin places a hand on my shoulder and says, “You wanna go upstairs for a while?”

And I nod because I’m hoping the quiet will feel nice. And really, the idea of being alone with em for a little while sounds nice too.

Inside, Devin puts on some music, and I collapse onto eir bed.

“I hope everything’s okay,” Devin says.

I groan. “Drew lied to me, so I broke up with him. I can’t be around liars. I fucking hate them, and they ruin everything.”

“Oh.”

We sit in silence for a few moments before Devin says, “Noah, I have to be honest with you. I lied to you too.”

I freeze, the ache in my heart spreading. Actually, I feel like I’m about to bolt through the door, or worse, just pass out right there. Like really, how many shitty surprises can I go through in one night?

Instead, my mouth gapes as the word “What?” falls out of it.

Devin takes my hand, and I fight the urge to jerk it away. “You know how I bring you coffee every morning before work?”

Silence stretches out between us for a second before I manage to say, “Yes?”

“Well, I lied about having a discount. I knew you wouldn’t let me buy it for you if you knew I was actually paying for it, but the code doesn’t actually kick in until after two, and I know how tired you are without coffee—”

“Wait,” I say, cutting em off mid-sentence, “that’s what you lied about?”

Devin nods soberly.

“Nothing else? Just the coupon?”

E shrugs. “I don’t think there’s anything else.”

I laugh, letting go of eir hand. It’s weird because the laughter feels good but also bad, like I’m happy, but also sad. Or maybe happiness dropping down into the middle of a pool of sadness, the two mixing together until I laugh so hard tears spring to my eyes. I wipe them away while I can still convince myself that they’re happy tears and say, “Okay, that’s not really what I was talking about. I mean, you should’ve told me and at least let me chip in a little because I can’t even imagine how much money you’ve spent buying me coffee every morning—”

“It’s not really a big deal,” Devin says. “I like bringing you coffee.”