Baker gaped at me in astonishment, the corners of her mouth lifting higher and higher with every passing second. "You slept with Theodore?"

I shushed her, afraid the kitchen staff might overhear, and she laughed again.

"I can't believe this. Like never, never ever, in a million years, would I have predicted my precious baby Mona losing her virginity to the bane of her existence."

I groaned into my fingers. "I can't tell if you're excited for me or just making fun of me."

She snorted and pried my hands away from my face. "Why are you hiding?"

"I don't know. I wasn't sure how you'd react. I didn't think you'd be this...okay with it."

"Honey, I'm asexual, not Amish." She grinned evilly, stepping back to assess me, as if I'd undergone a physical transformation since Friday night. "So? How was he?"

I shook my head and slipped on a pair of plastic gloves. We had over three hundred sets of silverware to roll for the night crew, and I had no intention of being here past four o'clock. "I'm not doing this with you. And definitely not at work."

She ignored my attempts to draw a boundary. "What, did it get freaky? Did he try and bite you?" She smirked. "He seems like someone who would have a vampire kink."

"...You really need to learn when not to say things, Baker."

"Fine. Keep all the juicy details to yourself." She leaned in close and squinted at me. "Just know if I was a creature captive to my biological impulses, I'd always kiss and tell. Because you mean that much to me."

She left to retrieve a fresh tray of spoons from the dishwasher, and I glared after the manipulative blond, thinking about the way Theo had kissed me, the manner in which he touched my body, as if every new patch of skin I revealed to him was a blessing.

If he behaved that way with a random customer, there was no doubt in my mind he'd worshipped Alyssa like a goddess.

"He was great, okay?" I whispered once she'd returned. "And I know I don't have anyone to compare him to, but he was like...really, really great."

Sweet, seductive, and selfless.

"Theo has game." She nodded in approval, adjusting her hair net. "Unexpected."

"It's not just game. He was in a long-term relationship before this, and it shows." I frowned as the morsels of our conversation drifted back to me, like ash floating down from a chimney after a cold winter night. "Also, he's studying pharmacology and pursuing cancer research—the guy who looks like he smokes for the sole purpose of upsetting other people. Who would've guessed?"

She watched me with a curious, contemplative look on her face. Then she began plucking a silverware set out of the bin. "So you weirdos gonna keep seeing each other or what?"

I snorted at the absurdity. "Definitely not. Dating is off the—"

"I didn't say date," she objected, and when I shot her a puzzled look, she tipped her chin to the ceiling. "Babe, think about it. You obviously liked what he had to offer, but you also can't stand the guy. And Theo could use a hookup every now and again while he's going to grad school and recovering from his breakup, like you said. No one wants to risk the cesspool that is a dating app in this rodeo town, and neither of you are looking for a serious commitment right now. You're the perfect match." She lifted her brow. "I'm talking friends with benefits, Rivas."

"...Is that a joke?"

"No."

My mouth fell open. "Baker, I'm sorry, but that's the dumbest thing you've ever said."

Why on earth would I complicate things even more? Intentionally? A one-night stand with my barista was thorny enough, but everyone knew a friends-with-benefits relationship promised a thicket full of trust issues and emotional trauma.

"Is it? All you guys have to do is set your boundaries from the get-go and communicate like adults," she said. "Why deny yourself the goods?"

"Please don't call it that. Just say 'sex' like a normal person."

She tutted and began rolling her silverware at a speedy pace. "I'm just saying. You guys could make this arrangement work if you wanted to. No STDs. No heartbreak. And free coffee."

Ah, there it is. No wonder she'd been so supportive.

"I'm not sleeping with Theo just so you can get a Grounds discount, B."

She threw a cloth napkin at my face.  "Coward."

I hadn't paid Grounds a visit for several days now, and I was suffering from withdrawal. I forced Baker to go with me for mutual support, although it didn't require much coercion when I told her whose shift it was.

"I told you, B, I'm not here to see Theo. I just miss my coffee," I said, annoyed by the skeptical tilt to her mouth. "You know Grounds is the only redeeming quality about winters in Reno."

"Yeah, yeah." She slammed her door shut, shaking her head at my car's sorry state. "Speaking of which, when are you ditching this place? What's next after graduation?"

I locked Judas, fully aware that no sensible person would bother stealing it. With ice all over the road, they'd probably crash it before they made it out of the parking lot. "Did my mom pay you to ask me that?"

"I'm serious. You used to talk about finding a fulfilling career and being part of something big. What happened?" She strolled beside me on our way to the coffee shop, and I made sure to take smaller steps so she could keep pace with me. "When I first met you, you said you wanted to become a professional photographer, remember? Said a dream job would be working with National Geographic or producing content for a documentary with that Applebee's guy."

"It's Attenborough. And it was just an idea." Back before adulthood slapped me in the face. 

"Yeah, an idea you could make your reality if you really wanted to." She poked me in the ribs. "But you have to get out of Nevada, my guy. You have to do something with your life if you want to lead a remarkable one."

I quirked an eyebrow at the ulterior motive beneath the surface. "Oh yeah? Like move to France with you?"

"Precisely."

An icy breeze swept through the lot, and I zipped my down jacket up to my chin. We still had four months left of this hellish winter, and I was already over it. "I mean it's not a terrible plan. Except I don't speak French."

"You speak Spanish. Close enough."

"I understand Spanish. Big difference."

For whatever reason, my mother had decided not to teach me her native language. She spoke Spanish to friends and family, but she'd always switched tongues around me, as if she feared I wouldn't succeed in this nation otherwise. I'd adopted common phrases and curse words over the years, but I could barely string together a proper sentence under pressure. And with my tan skin and Guatemalan features, most Latinos who attempted to communicate with me were instantly disappointed with my receptive bilingualism.

My mother had stripped me of my heritage in that respect, and I'd been so pressed over it in high school, I'd chosen to study sign language as an act of rebellion. Now, I could cuss her out any time I wanted with zero repercussions.

Baker and I pushed through the shop's thick metal doors, and I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling the sweet, familiar aroma. When I opened them again, they immediately latched onto Theo's startled gaze.

We stared at each other for a few heartbeats, and those hazel eyes transported me back to a night of blistering heat and tender touches. Skin on skin. Lips on lips. Friction, butterflies, and sultry gazes. Then he broke contact to address the customer at the counter, his face betraying nothing, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Jeez...

This was so much worse than I'd anticipated. My hands were already clammy, and my chest suddenly felt too small for my lungs—all because of that stupid, handsome idiot on the other side of the counter.

Damn him and his perfect jawline.

Beside me, Baker rambled on about job opportunities in Europe, sensing my distress, and I could never thank her enough for the distraction. When we finally reached the front of the line, she nodded at Theo and stuffed her hands in the pockets of her faux fur coat. "Sup, Beanie-Boy."

He looked her over, mildly amused. "Espresso?"

"Four shots, please and thank you."

He snickered, spinning the iPad around for her to pay. He glanced at me while Baker debated how much to tip him, and I sent him a small, unsure smile.

He grinned back at me, but I could detect the smallest traces of anxiety in his eyes. And honestly, it made me feel better knowing I wasn't the only one affected by our New Year's activities. It gave the night significance, and it validated our intimacy as something memorable—even if we both wished to purge it from our minds. 

Baker stepped aside so I could order, scrunching up her face because the air reeked of tension. "Just the usual," I said, handing Theo my plastic cup. 

He nodded, accepting it without comment. But then our hands brushed during the exchange, and our gazes met once again—his pupils pulsing with heat and hesitation and fear—before quickly dipping away and abandoning eye contact.

Oh, god.

It was awkward. 

I paid as quickly as possible, and he didn't say another word, so Baker and I walked over to claim an empty spot by the fireplace. She whistled as she collapsed into a giant armchair. "That was brutal."

"I know. Don't rub it in."

Theo and I had parted ways on Saturday with friendly grins and the promise of a fleeting memory. But now, I realized that hooking up with someone I saw on a damn near daily basis was incredibly stupid and shortsighted. Blocking out an experience like that wasn't easy, and I envied the women who could sleep with an entire football team and never bat an eye; they were another breed of human, surely.

"What the hell," Baker murmured, scowling at the photographs on the wall behind us. "What is this depressive shit?"

"Inside thoughts, B. Those people worked hard on that stuff.  You don't know if any of them are here right now."

The gremlin rolled her eyes and twisted around to address the demon barista. "Hey, Theodore! My girl Moe can take better pictures than any of these amateurs. What's the deal?"

"I don't pick the wall art," he replied.  "Take it up with the manager."

"I will," Baker declared.

"Great."

"Great!" 

I dragged my hand over my face. "Can you stop picking fights, please?"

She grumbled something unintelligible under her breath and leaned back in the old leather chair. The cushions consumed her short frame, and her boots barely brushed the ground. It was pretty freaking adorable, but I knew if I ever breathed that sentence aloud, she'd kick my ass.

"How's your photography stuff going, anyway?" she asked.

I grinned, shifting in my seat so I wouldn't be distracted by the tall, attractive blob in my periphery. "I haven't gotten out much with the weather, but I'm really excited to take a class that incentivizes me to keep up with it."

This was my first time taking an actual photography class. Up until now, I'd relied on YouTube tutorials and blog posts to wrap my head around my camera settings and the basic principles of design. This year, I'd finally have a chance to hone my skills and acquire some professional feedback.

"I am a little intimidated though," I admitted. "The professor sent out the syllabus already, in case any of us wanted to drop the class before the semester starts, you know? And apparently, a big focus of the course is creating a portfolio based on an assigned concept."

"Makes sense," Baker said. "What's the issue?"

"This year, the theme is 'Misconceptions,' and I'm at a loss trying to think of a cohesive project. You have any ideas?"

She frowned, taking a good minute to think it over, and I appreciated her serious deliberation. "If it were me, I'd try to showcase different demographics and cultures in America in a way that directly contradicts harmful stereotypes, you know? Like, a group of hijabis sitting on the couch, eating pizza and watching reality TV. Or like, an indigenous person working for a big tech company. But for you...you should do something related to your major." She tilted her head, as if she were trying to unstick her thoughts from the nooks and crannies of her brain. "Maybe you could take pictures of people with certain disorders to help spread awareness?  Show the world they're just like us, and they deserve the same degree of respect as anyone else. Like...literally any one of us could have been born with a wonky gene, and yet we treat these people like—"

Her brain took off faster than her mouth could keep up, and I smiled, watching her scurry down the rabbit hole of injustice.

I loved Baker's mind. She possessed a furious passion for civil rights, and she wasn't afraid to voice her opinions, even if it made other people uncomfortable, even if it cost her friends. It always amazed me how she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted out of life—there wasn't a seed of doubt in her head, not an ounce of uncertainty. At every crossroads in life, she operated with confidence and self-assurance, and I admired her for that.

Even if it meant her leaving for Europe with no reservations whatsoever.

"Espresso!" Theo announced.  "And a Sweet-Tooth Latte!"

I gave a deep, pained sigh. At least some things hadn't changed.

We moseyed over to the pickup station, and Baker snatched her drink off the counter— aggressively, as she conducted most affairs. "Classic Theo," she said, revealing the fighting words he'd scribbled onto her cup sleeve.

This dosage better not kill you, short-stack.

Her lips curled into a menacing grin. "Tread carefully, beanpole.  I have exclusive knowledge of your dick size, and I'm not afraid to use it against you."

Theo's smile vanished as Baker walked away, and I really hoped he knew she was bluffing.

After commanding Carl to leave me alone, I retrieved my cup and glanced down at my own callous message. Only this time, the sleeve was blank.

I passed Theo a confused look. "Fresh out of insults this morning?"

His mouth quirked up at the edges, and I had a feeling he'd denied me a message in hopes of breaking the silence and the fat sheet of ice between us. "I have nothing bad to say."

I pursed my lips, waiting for the punchline. "Not a single thing?"

His eyes raked over me—blouse, neck, face, and hair—and the sly grin on his face had me blushing to my roots. "No. Nothing at all."