He sipped his coffee. “Well, please kindly disregard my earlier comment about having mad internet skills, because that’d be terribly embarrassing if I’d said that. Which I absolutely didn’t.”

I smiled into my coffee. “Of course not. But knowing what personal information people put online, and what corporations do with that information, is the reason I’m not on any social media.”

He nodded thoughtfully, then eyed me for a minute. “It’s kind of fitting, I guess.” I gave him a questioning look, so he added, “I’d wondered what you did for a job. You never wore a suit, but you clearly get paid well because you have more style than I could dream of.”

“A suit? Me? Never. And I don’t know about more style than you because I’ve seen your outfits with matching shoes.”

He blushed. “Well, I have to do something with a drab work uniform.”

“I like it,” I replied. “I wondered what colour you’d wear today. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting brown.”

He looked down at his brown jacket and stuck his booted foot out. “Do you not like it?”

“I do,” I said quickly.

“I just thought I should tone it down a little.”

“You don’t need to censor yourself for me. I mean, that’s the point, isn’t it? Finding friends—” I stopped and tried again. “People to be around who we don’t have to censor ourselves?”

He smiled and made a thoughtful face. “Can I be honest with you?”

Oh God. “Yes, of course.”

“You look worried.”

“I’d suck at poker. My face gives me away every time.”

“That’s not a bad thing.” He smiled and took a deep breath. “You mentioned us being friends.”

“I did. I dropped the F-bomb. But I did amend it…” It felt like my face was on fire.

“Yeah, about that. Merry suggested I meet you with being friends in mind. I tend to put pressure on myself and freak out and make an arse of myself.” He chewed on his bottom lip, but I could tell he wasn’t done talking. “I’d said to her we had a coffee date and I was like oh my God, he’s kind of perfect. I mean, he cried during Flowers for Algernon and that kind of puts him perfect territory, and he’s asexual, so…” He let out a slow breath, fixated on his coffee. I guessed it was easier not to look at me. “But Merry was probably right. I do need a friend who might understand where I’m at with this whole asexual thing.”

“Friends is good,” I managed to say, though my mouth was suddenly dry.

“Jesus, don’t ever take up poker.”

I chuckled. “Being transparent is a curse.”

“No it’s not,” he replied, looking at me now. “I’d take it any day over the opposite. I like it.”