Devon's face went bright red, and he hurried to say, "Oh, I heard you're the real coffee expert here, Randall. I'm just playing around—well, only because President Webber's nice enough to drink it…"
Meredith looked at him with this ridiculously proud smile.
I stared at the cup in my hand, kinda spaced out.
Back in college, I was obsessed with coffee. I crammed my dorm with all kinds of coffee equipment. Whenever I got my hands on some new beans, I'd get all excited to brew a cup for Meredith.
But she was always a milkshake person and never had anything good to say about coffee.
She'd push it far away with this exaggerated grimace and complain, "Who on earth even likes drinking this bitter crap? It's hella gross! Keep it away from me!"
Sometimes, she'd even pour it straight down the sink right in front of me.
After a while, I pretty much stopped drinking coffee altogether.
Meredith must've noticed I was just standing there quietly. She wrinkled her nose, saying, "Hey, why aren't you trying it?"
I set the cup down on the table, and with a shrug, I casually replied, "Well, I'm getting older. Coffee keeps me up at night."