"Enjoying your coffee?"

I glanced up over the brim of my Styrofoam cup at Alex. He was studying the contents of his own drink.

"Immensely." I answered, taking a sip and setting the cup on the table between us, "How's your smoothie?"

Alex took a drink through his straw and smacked his lips thoughtfully, "Fruity." He said decidedly.

"Is it a luau in your mouth?"

Alex shook his head, "Not entirely, which is probably for the best since I'm not a huge fan of coconut."

"Besides, you'd undoubtedly choke on the grass skirts." I stirred my coffee slowly.

"Undoubtedly." Alex agreed. We shared a moment of silence that was decidedly less awkward, during which I occupied myself by guessing what various customers would order. I was 0 for three when Alex took a deep breath and spoke.

"So let's have a heart to heart." He said casually. I turned away from the middle aged iced mocha at the counter and gave Alex the runabout with my eyes, opting to stare directly into the dark, steaming liquid in front of me instead of his intense sea foam eyes.

"I can't." I whispered.

"Why not?" Alex prodded.

I shook my head slowly, dipping the tip of my finger into my coffee, ". . . Percy broke my heart."

Alex let out a slow, compassionate sigh through his nose and shifted back in his seat, "You know he didn't mean to. He'd never hurt you on purpose."

I put my finger in my mouth, tasting the bitter coffee and sweet chocolate, nursing the slight burn on the very tip, "He still did." I mumbled through my flesh.

"He's sorry."

I looked up, meeting Alex's eyes, "How do you know that for sure?"

He sat back and reached up to adjust his hat, "I just do. I'm the Trickster, I know all."

"You're impotent."

"Omnipotent." Alex corrected, "Impotent means erectionally challenged."

I sipped my drink, "I'm aware."

"Are you also aware that you're using humor to avoid reality again?" He asked, his tone sounding too much like a cheesy, cliché therapist for my liking.

I shrugged, "I've been known to do that. Sophia the Avoider!"

"Do you fight crime?" Alex asked, resting his chin in his hand.

"I would, "I said, turning my cup around in my hands, "But I try to avoid confrontation."

"Go figure."

"Go team."

Next ensued another long, heavy silence. I knew Alex was waiting for me to speak first. And I knew what he wanted me to say. I wanted to say it. I felt like I needed to say it, to get it out of me.

"I miss him." I admitted finally, quietly.

Alex sat up straight, his eyes fixed securely to my face.

"But. . ." I sighed, ". . . I don't want to see him. It hurts, Alex."

He reached across the table and covered my hand with his, "I know, Soph."

I sniffed, confused by the lack of tears spewing out of me at merely the mention of Percy, "I don't like it."

Alex sighed loudly and gave my hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and leaning back in his chair, "You're not the only one."

I closed my eyes tiredly. I hadn't even thought about what this whole thing would do to our group. My friends, our friends, who we had spent at least the past six years with, some of them much more, what would happen to them? I didn't want them to have to choose between us. It wasn't fair that they should be so affected by what Percy and I had done.

When I opened my eyes Alex was smiling at me gently. He wasn't ecstatic, but he was okay, and he wanted me to know that.

I sighed for the millionth time that afternoon and sank back deep into my chair, "I wish I still had some pudding."

Alex laughed, "You would if you hadn't inhaled it like a Hoover."

"Inhale this." I stuck up my middle finger, receiving even more laughs from Alex. "You really shouldn't compare me to things that suck," I told him severely, "I'm fragile. It's bad for my self esteem."

Alex shook his head, "Drink your coffee."

"I wanna put some pudding in it." I rebutted dejectedly.

"That's disgusting."

"No, what's disgusting is that I haven't bathed in five days."

Alex's nose crinkled, "Touché."

A lengthy pause in the conversation left us both sipping absentmindedly at our beverages and enjoying the aforementioned companionable silence.

"Have I ever broken your heart?" Alex asked suddenly, his eyes cast down into his smoothie as he stirred it slowly with his straw.

I crossed my arms over my chest and smiled at him, "No."

He looked up, "Have I even bruised it?"

I took a deep, contemplative breath and sat forward, bringing our noses a mere two inches apart, ". . . you're more like a jab in the kidneys."