“So,” I said after we sat down at a table at Starbucks with two Espresso Macchiatos, “What tipped you over?”
He took a small sip and glanced at me questioningly. “To actually, you know, attempt to talk,” I explained.
He shrugged. I sighed, “Drew. Talk. It’s a good thing.”
He took another sip and finally spoke, “I don’t know, really.”
I fiddled with my drink for a moment, “That isn’t exactly an answer.”
He shrugged again. “You know what sucks?” I asked.
“Everything?” he suggested.
I chuckled, “No, not everything. This Macchiato. I knew I should have gotten a Frappuccino.”
I scowled at my cup. He shook his head, “Macchiatos are better.”
I frowned, “Ginkgo is the best, though.”
“That’s tea,” he pointed out.
“Well,” I decided, “I like tea better then coffee then.”
He managed a weak half-smile at that.
“Your mom likes Ginkgo too,” I remarked, analyzing his expression.
A pained look crossed his face, “Yes.”
“You were listening, weren’t you?” I asked cautiously.
He looked up sharply, “You think?”