Beau: where r u?
Ann-Marie: Copy Center. Have some erransd to run. Want to c*m w/?
Beau: c*m? No. But I wll join u.
Ann-Marie: Smartass.
Beau: Better than dumbass.
Ann-Marie: Badjoke tax. Must buy me coffee.
Beau: Sure. Xtra Shot?
Ann-Marie: I <3 u, 4evr.
Beau: Or til caffn wears off.
Ann-Marie: Yah, that.
“Ann-Marie!” Beau yelled. The blonde girl looked up from her phone and jumped down from the wall, landing neatly on the sidewalk. Behind her, a stack of bright yellow papers fought to free themselves of the rock she’d used to hold them down. Ann-Marie scooped up the pages and tucked them under her arm.
“Ah, you are a god, Beau Watkins,” she said. She took the paper cup from him and sucked down about half of her double grande, extra shot, caramel infused beverage that bore—a
