13. Brewing
13
Brewing
The next day, I set up my laptop at the coffee shop, my brain jolting with half-formed thoughts. It wasn’t my place to comment on Sal’s love life. The latest ePhone had been out longer than we’d been friends. But still, it didn’t take an expert to realize he and Janice weren’t suited for each other. Was it better to bury my concern? Was I a bad friend either way I approached it?
Shit.
Human relationships were too damned complicated.
My chair wobbled. I wasn’t rocking myself that hard. What kind of establishment got chairs with uneven legs? Useless hipster aesthetic. Wood warped, though, so maybe they changed over time. Most people did. Maybe that was what happened in Sal’s relationship. They started out on the same level, and now, they wobbled.
The bell over the door rang.
A pierced-up barista looked at the door with almost as much intensity as I did.
Sal strode in, his arrival straightening my spine with a current of anticipation. "Hi," I said .
He grinned and slipped his backpack onto the seat next to me. “Hey, how’s it going? Big day tomorrow.”
“Yes. Good.” I answered in reverse order. I was such an idiot. Why did he trust me with this project?
He jerked his thumb at the counter. “You want a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“I think we need to order something or that guy might kick my ass,” he joked out of the corner of his mouth.
The pierced barista in the olive cap huffed and crossed his arms, showing off some ink.
Tough guys didn’t scare me. Stupid, entitled ones did. But Sal wasn’t like that. At worst, he was silly.
“Aren’t you known for making friends?” I asked dryly.
“Yeah, but I don’t know anyone here yet. I get my caffeine from energy drinks.” He drummed on his belly.
My lip twitched up. “Your insides must be radioactive green.”
“Hey, it brings out the color of my liver.” He laughed. “Now, what’ll it be?”
He wasn’t going to give up until he got me something. It was daytime, and we both had work after this, so I trusted him to get me a drink.
I tugged my hat. “A small latte with oat milk, please.”
“You’ve got it.” He snapped his fingers, then smacked his fist into his palm as he strolled up to the register.
Our conversation didn’t have to be devastating. Maybe he already suspected Janice wasn’t his perfect partner. I’d ease into things. Casually. Let him lead.
By the time he got back with our order, my brain vibrated with the effort to stop myself from blurting out anything inappropriate.
“Are you okay?” Sal frowned, setting up beside me .
“Yes. Let’s test our content.” I scooted forward and accidentally bumped into his leg. “Ah, sorry,” I said.
I tensed, tightening my posture, and touched my cap. Hopefully, I wasn’t blushing like some idiot.
“It’s okay,” Sal said. After a few seconds of game-testing and no eye contact, he leaned over the table and cleared his throat. “Can I address something kinda personal?”
My heart whirred. Did he already know what I was going to say today? “Yes,” I whispered.
The second I met his gaze, he lowered his bright eyes and sucked in sharply, like it was too much to handle.
He traced the top of his iced latte. “I get the sense you’re not comfortable talking about some stuff. But I like to think we’re getting close enough to address some tougher topics, if you’re into that. We could be closer or stay where we're at.”
Being closer meant we could be honest. “I’d like to be closer friends.”
He sighed and flicked his thumb across the underside of his chin scruff. “Something must’ve happened, and that sucks, and is super sad. Tragic.”
I knit my brows. Did he mean something happened in their relationship?
He placed his palm over his chest. “But I want you to know, I’m not going to make a move on you.”
What did that have to do with anything? I sat up straight, a headache throbbing under my skull and discomfort prickling through my skin. No one asked him to make a move. I wasn’t some rebound chick hoping he’d notice me. With every word, he twisted a coil deep inside me.
He gestured over. “I don’t assume someone being friendly means they’re interested in me. You can touch my arm or laugh at my jokes, and I’ll assume it’s just normal, because that’s what my friends and I do. I’m sorry for whatever happened to you– ”
“You didn’t do anything.” I flustered, typing the wrong input into the game. Fucking code bugged with one period in the wrong place.
“No, but I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to make you more comfortable. You already know I’m in a happy, committed relationship, but that doesn’t–”
“Happy? With Janice?” I scoffed.
He widened his eyes and inched back in his seat. “What?”
Shit. The bile was coming up already.
“You made her a whole damned island, and she acts like saving you a piece of pie is the biggest sacrifice,” I said.
His lip twitched up. “It is a popular pie.”
“It’s ridiculous. She wouldn’t even stop to take your picture because it’d ruin her birthday aesthetic.” I rolled my eyes.
“Is that it?”
“I don’t know. Should I check your arms and legs for nail-prints?” I huffed, eyeing him.
He stiffened, color draining from his face. “Hey, that’s not okay.”
“You’re right. It isn’t okay to hurt someone you care about just because they talk too much or say the wrong thing or…anything other than dire safety. I don’t know why you’re giving her anything. I shouldn’t be helping.” I slammed my laptop shut.
“Zero, what’re you doing?” He reached across the table.
I snatched my stuff and got up. “Don’t worry, I’m not leaving because I think you’re hitting on me.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes. And another thing: it’s stupid to celebrate yourself for a whole week. If anything, she should take out her mother one day for going through labor for her.”
“They’re getting brunch that morning,” he said, his tone tinged with incredulity .
So, because she got her mom a meal, that excused everything?
I rolled my eyes. “Forget I said anything. If being in a relationship like that makes you happy–”
“Zero–”
“Enjoy your own personal fantasy island.” I stormed off, my teeth gridlocking. What a stupid, dated reference. It didn’t even make sense. Victor would laugh at me for bringing up my old, guilty-pleasure, late-night TV show.
I dropped my stuff by the tech desk and flung myself into the chair hard enough I had to anchor my feet to stop myself from flying into the wall. I dragged myself to the center of the desk with my heels to work on a laptop. My eyes welled in the glare of a reboot screen.
How did he know I had trauma? Was I that awkward and horrible with men? I wasn’t flirting. I didn’t act like I thought he liked me, right? So why let me down like that?
I sniffed and rubbed my temples, hunched over. Hopefully, my nose wouldn’t drip on the keyboard and short-circuit anything. I’d had enough collateral damage.
Ash approached my desk. “Hey, what’re you doing in so early?”
I jerked upright and wiped my nose. “Nothing. Just getting a head start on this glitchy hard drive.”
She furrowed her brow. “Are you okay?”
‘Yes,’ wouldn’t come out. I nodded. Perhaps it would’ve been more convincing if I could’ve met her gaze.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she said, moving the tissue box closer. Then, she mercifully walked away.
Ugh. This was so pathetic. I blew my nose as quietly as possible. How many times had those robotics assholes told me I was ‘too emotional?’ That I couldn’t take a compliment…or a joke ?
I didn’t see anything particularly funny about AI-nudes of my body or unsolicited dick pics. Nothing flattering about those for any party.
Sal headed toward True Tech, holding both of our drinks. Ah, shit. I couldn’t face him like this.
I bolted into the storage closet, which was much more dignified. I pushed some carts aside to make room and pretend I was sorting old cables. A barrage of dust tickled my nose. Shit. I couldn’t sneeze, or he’d know I was back here. The door had a gap in the bottom, which did nothing to block sound from the main room.
“Hey, where’s Zero?” he asked.
“Busy,” Ash said.
“Busy?”
“She’s doing something for me. What do you need?” she asked curtly.
“This…is her drink,” he said.
“You got coffee?” she asked.
Why did she sound so amused?
“So? You and I get drinks,” Sal said.
“Right,” she drawled.
“She was helping me with a present. For Janice,” he emphasized.
I yanked a bunch of tangled cables in exasperation. Did he have to tell Ash about my involvement?
“Oh, Sal,” she chided.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t have asked that. But I’ll tell her you stopped by.” She sighed, patting something, maybe his arm.
A few seconds later, she knocked.
“Yeah?” I strained, still holding in the sneeze.
She popped inside, as put-together as ever. “How’s the love triangle going? ”
“I’m not in a love triangle,” I fumed, tossing aside the knotted wires. I wasn’t in love. Hell, neither was he. Maybe not even with Janice.
Ash propped the door open with her hip. “What’d you come in here for?”
“Cables.” I crossed my arms. Okay, I wasn’t a great liar, but that was a good thing. “He said something about…me.”
“Mean or sweet?” She arched her brow.
I shook my head, then gave her the short version of our argument. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe I should just let him be happy.”
“He will be. He creates joy wherever he can. Maybe that’s why he’s stayed with her for so long.” Ash glanced at the entrance. “They started out as friends.”
Why would she tell me that? “It doesn’t seem like it,” I said.
She shrugged. “I think they could be friends again.” She leveled me with a gaze. “If they could be direct about their feelings, there’d be no reason they couldn’t make amends.”
Well, shit. I wrapped a cord around my fingers. “It might make everything messier.”
“Sometimes, that’s a risk worth taking.” She flashed me a sideways smile, then closed the door behind her.
Working with her was better than therapy. I eyed the phone cases stacked on a nearby shelf. Maybe I did need to tell him something.