coffee

prologue

"Um, hi. Can I get a - uh - tall vanilla latte?" It's this dumb looking kid that asks, with these big goofy lips and wide brown eyes and fucking stupid red glasses. Ryan scoffs, turning away from the stuttering moron.

"Um," he mocks. "I'm gonna say no."

"Why?" the kid asks, looking ridiculously wounded. Ryan wants to hit him.

"Do I look like I work here?" He sneers.

"Um. Yes? You're wearing an apron."

"Ever thought that I was maybe on my break?"

"You're behind the counter!"

"And?" Ryan fixes the kid with his best withering look. The kid stares at him incredulously, big lips gaping open.

"Wow," the kid says. "Were you born a jerk, or did you have to work on it?"

"I'm not a jerk," Ryan snaps. "I just have a low tolerance for morons."

"You don't even know me!" The kid cries.

"But I know your type," Ryan says.

"You are incredible," the kid says. "Fucking incredible." He gives Ryan one last disbelieving look, and storms out of the shop.

"And you know what?" Ryan yells after him. "Vanilla lattes are fucking girly drinks! Drink your coffee black like a man, you pussy!" Ryan tears off his apron, throws it on his hook, and leans against the counter. "God."

"What's up?" It's Jon, tugging his hat on. He hasn't shaved in at least a week, and that alone makes Ryan want to kick him in the shins. Just. Because.

"That - that kid," Ryan says, gesturing wildly.

"What kid?" Jon asks mildly, tying on his apron.

"The kid! He was just in here."

"Well. What'd he look like?"

"He was goofy looking. With, like, these ridiculous Angelina Jolie lips. And stupid brown eyes. And glasses."

"Red glasses?"

"Yes! Stupid red glasses." Ryan crosses his arms over his chest, but Jon is laughing at him, shaking his head. "What, Walker?"

"That's Brendon," Jon says, and watches Ryan's face, waiting to gauge his reaction. It takes the younger boy a minute, but it finally registers.

"Brendon as in..."

"Yeah. Brendon as in our new roommate Brendon."

"You're kidding me," Ryan says. "You're kidding me, Jon Walker. You were watching the whole time, and now you're just being mean."

"'Fraid not, kid."

"He is not living with us."

"Um. He totally is."

"I'll kill him," Ryan says, frantic. "I'll kill him, and I swear, Walker, no jury in the world would convict me. He was all dumb, and like, stuttery. I hate stuttery people."

"Stuttery isn't a word, Ryan."

"That's beside the point!" Ryan cries. "He can't live with us."

"He was probably just nervous, Ry," Jon reasons. "I told him you work here, and he probably figured out it was you."

"He drinks vanilla lattes, Jon," Ryan says. "Vanilla lattes."

"I drink vanilla lattes," Jon says.

"Yeah. But you have friggen facial hair."

"You're being ridiculous," Jon tells him. "I just want you to know that." He starts walking away, but Ryan follows him.

"When I commit suicide because of this, you'll be sorry, Walker!"

"At this point, I'm doubting it," Jon laughs. "Now go read the fucking Bell Jar or something." When Jon starts taking a customer's order, obviously ignoring Ryan, the younger boy lets out a scream of rage.

"Fine," he says. "I will."

Jon just rolls his eyes.