“No.” He tosses it in the air, catches it, and switches it to his other hand. “I wasn’t sure Maverick had any. I stopped at the store on the way over.” “You—” I blink. It feels like I’m missing the punchline of a joke. “I’m confused.” “You mentioned you liked limes in your drink. Didn’t know if that only applied to cocktails or all forms of fluid.” “When did I mention that?” “June,” he says simply, and he leaves it at that.
