Page 44 of Lethal in Pink

I raise an eyebrow. “We’re at a boba shop.”

“I’m aware.”

“They have thirty-seven flavors of milk tea and you’re ordering black water downed espresso.”

“Some of us have sophisticated palates,” he says, and the way his mouth quirks at the corner tells me he’s fully aware of how ridiculous he sounds.

We stand side by side at the pickup counter, waiting. Then my phone screen lights up and an anime theme song begins playing—an alarm reminder for my birth control.

Jae’s eyes light up like the fourth of July and his head whips in my direction.

“You watch anime?” he asks, and his voice has changed too.

I hesitate. This is not usual information I would just hand out—it lives in the same compartment as my stuffed animals and my fairy lights—the private one labeled “no one’s business but my own”.

He waggles his brows, “Well?”

I sigh, my long bangs falling forward as I shake my head. I can’t wait for these bitches to grow back out.

“I dabble,” I say, because dabble is the word people use when they mean my entire personality is built on a foundation of animated Japanese storytelling and I could recite the full opening sequence of ‘Attack on Titan’ in my sleep.

He’s looking at me like he’s just found out I speak his exact native language which, unbeknownst to him—I do. His face does something devastating. It spreads into an obnoxious, boyish, infuriatingly genuine grin that makes the air in my lungs feel entirely too crowded.

"Dabble?" Jae echoes, leaning an elbow against the pickup counter.

“Yup.”

“Ahhh, so that’s why I just heard the second opening from Jujutsu Kaisen play from your phone. You’re not actually into it or anything.”

My face feels hot.

I narrow my eyes at him, clutching my phone closer to my chest like a shield. “You recognized it?”

“Yup. So, what all do you watch?”

"That is classified information. Higher security than government files.”

“Oh, so it's bad,” he teases, stepping a fraction closer as the barista sets a hot cup with a black lid onto the counter. "You're a closet trash-isekai watcher. You've seen all twelve episodes of the one where a guy gets reincarnated as a vending machine."

“It was an inventive premise!” I snap back before I can stop myself.

A deep laugh rumbles out Jae’s chest, making a few teenagers near the door turn around to look at us.

Fuck!

Why was that so hot?

My hand flies up to fix my high ponytail, my ballet-pink nails brushing against my scalp. I catch myself, forcing my hands back down to my sides.

“Taro milk tea, light ice?” the barista calls out.

“Mine,” I say, practically lunging for the plastic cup. I shove the fat purple straw through the film with entirely too much force, the pop sounding like a miniature gunshot in the small store.

I take a long, desperate sip, letting the icy, artificial sweetness shock my system back into balance.

“So,” he says, turning to face me fully as we walk out the front door together. “Is that what you do to unwind after correcting teachers in class and studying? Binge-watch anime?”

“Normally, yes,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead on the sidewalk. “Sometimes, it’s reading or gaming.”