Pinkpurpleblue asked: When do we get relationship updates? TBH I love those more than the meet cutes!

The next morning, Brian doesn’t ask why I was out so late, but I know he heard me come home. Part of me’s relieved that he’s giving me my space, but the other part wishes he’d act more like our parents—lecturing me about being responsible and staying safe and making me feel like all these decisions aren’t hanging on my shoulders alone, even if I did kind of give him shit for it the other day.

I’m exhausted since I didn’t go to sleep until almost two and Brian woke me up at six thirty. It’s pretty ridiculous that they make us come in this early since the camp hasn’t even actually started yet, but I guess Brian’s orientation involves actual work that takes actual time instead of sitting around listening to a bunch of old people talk about their grandkids.

The bright lights of the rec center give me a headache, and I struggle to keep my eyes open as I plop myself down onto the bleachers. The mistake I made yesterday was thinking I needed to seek out some responsibilities. I’m all but useless around here, so if anyone needs me, they’ll find me.

And even though I embarrassed myself last night, I really wish Drew were here. No, I wish I were back at the bookstore. Drew could brew me coffee, and we could talk about the Diary, and things would fall into place.

“Good morning.”

I look up and cringe. Devin’s standing over me, a square cup carrier in his hands with two Starbucks cups in it.

“What?” I snap.

“I—I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he says. “I brought you a peace offering.”

His hands are shaking so badly, I’m pretty sure he’s going to dump the hot coffee out on me. Two for two, I guess.

I stand up and steady the carrier before it can slip out of his hands. “Are they both for me?” I ask.

His eyes widen. “Do you want both?”

I shrug, but just settle on taking one of the cups. If he drops the other one, it’s his own problem. “What is it?” I ask as I bring the lid to my lips.

“Vanilla latte.”

I freeze, considering chucking the cursed drink across the room but also realizing this is my only chance at coffee for the day. “How did you know vanilla lattes are my favorite drink?”

Devin blinks, removing his own cup from the carrier and setting the ugly cardboard on the bleachers. “I didn’t,” he says. “I just figured they’re a classic.”

Accepting he hasn’t secretly been stalking my life since before I met him, I take a sip, and God, I missed Starbucks coffee. So sweet and pure.