And his face breaks into a grin so wide and beautiful that I want to turn it into a song and play it forever. He flips the board back into his hand, grabbing it with one and then reaching out with his other. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?”

His face falls a little, and I can tell he’s thinking hard. “We could get coffee?” It comes out like a question, like I might say no. “If you’d rather just go back to your place or whatever, I understand that too.” He looks nervous, like a rejection now would be a rejection always.

“Coffee shop sounds good. I could go for some hot cocoa and scones.”

“Deal,” he says, but then he’s wrinkling his forehead as he looks up at the sky.

“What’s wrong?”

“I know I skated by a Dunkin’ Donuts, but I can’t remember how to get there now.”

“Why do we need a Dunkin’ Donuts?”

“Your cocoa.” He shrugs. “We could get an Uber maybe. I mean, if you still want to—”

“Oh my god, Ridley,” I say, my eyes going wide. “There’s no way we’re going to Dunkin’ Donuts when Stacks exists.”

“Stacks?”

“It’s only the best coffee shop on the planet. They have the best cocoa in town—they’re, like, known for it. Well, I think technically they’re known for their espresso, but the cocoa! They import it from someplace, and it’s like a million dollars a cup.”

“A million dollars a cup, eh?” He laughs. “Wow.”

“My treat, by the way. I owe you for my skate lesson.”

“I can’t let you spend a million dollars on me,” he says in mock horror.

“Okay, fine, they’re four dollars, but when you think about it.”

“I mean, yeah, I get it. It’s so close, how could you not round up?”

I wait for him to pull on his backpack and readjust the board under his arm, and then I grab on to his hand again and drag him along behind me. “I don’t know how you’ve been here for weeks already and never heard of Stacks.”

“I literally know no one here except for you and your moms, so.”

“Wait for it, Ridley. I’m going to blow your mind today.”

We walk in silence for a few more beats, and then I hear him say it, so quietly I almost miss it. “You already have.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Ridley

PEAK TAKES A seat while I get in line. The place is nice, a typical hipster coffee shop, and very busy. I insist on paying and order at the counter—two hot cocoas with cinnamon, exactly as Peak directed—and then drop into the seat across from her. “They said it would be up soon.”