I rolled my eyes as we moved closer in line. “Work. The Foundation for Scientific Technology.”
He eyed me with surprised respect. “I didn’t have you pegged as a scientist.”
“Particle astrophysics. You shouldn’t be so judgmental.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m their head of PR. I write a lot of press releases and make really miniscule discoveries sound interesting to laypeople.”
“That’s still higher-tech than I would have guessed.”
“What was your guess?”
He looked me up and down. “Gossip columnist. Or fashion blogger.”
I burst out laughing. “Yup, that’s me. In my outfit from TJ Maxx.” Just the woman with the young son remained in line in front of us. “What do you do?”
“Stalk PR people for scientific organizations at coffee shops before murdering them at weddings.”
“Pays well, does it? That’s a nice suit.”
He laughed. “I’m a lawyer. At Waters and Flynn.”
“Never heard of them,” I said. “But cool. They’re near here?”
“Two blocks down on M.”
“Ah. I’m on L Street.”
“I know,” he said. “We represent some of your scientists. Patent law.”
“Oh—maybe I have—oh shoot—sorry, a grande skinny vanilla latte,” I said, turning to the barista.
I pulled out my wallet, but Alex edged in next to me, flashing the app on his phone. “And a venti Americano.” He looked down at me. “I’ve got this.”
“Are you—I mean—okay. Thanks.”
We moved aside to wait for our drinks, in a mildly awkward silence now that he had bought me a coffee.
I broke the peace first. “So do you come to this Starbucks a lot?” Ugh. That sounded like a pickup line. I didn’t want him to think I was interested. I mean, maybe under other circumstances I could have been, but sleeping with Justin irreparably negated any potential that could have existed with the other groomsmen.
“Yeah. It’s right between the Metro and work.”
“Same. I’m just usually running later than this.”
“So if I want to run into you again, I should be late to work?”
“Probably. Or wait until the wedding.”
The barista put our drinks on the counter. Alex took them both and handed me mine. He took the hint. “Gotcha. Well, maybe I’ll see you around.”
I nodded, feeling a tinge of disappointment. “Yup. Thanks for the coffee.”
“No problem. Have a good day, Lily.”
“You too.” He held the door for me, and we went our separate ways.
Good job, Lily. You meet a nice guy who buys your coffee and holds the door for you, but you can’t like him because you slept with the slimy creep who is in the same wedding with both you and the nice guy. And you wonder why you’re single.
I had planned on Tuesday being a one-time splurge, but I was able to justify going Wednesday because I hadn’t paid for my coffee on Tuesday. Thursday—well—Thursday, maybe I was hoping I would see Alex again.
“Grande skinny vanilla latte,” I told the barista absently while fishing my wallet out of my bag.
“Are you Lily?” she asked.
I looked up warily. Was I coming to this Starbucks too often? “Ye-es. Why?”
“Your coffee is already paid for. We just need to make it.” She turned toward the staff making the drinks. “Lily is here!”
“What’s going on?”
“Your friend paid for your drink and left you a note on the cup.”
“My—do you have the right Lily?”
The barista nodded. “He said you got a grande skinny vanilla latte and that you had dark hair and eyes and a red bag.”
“What did he look like?”
“She said he left you a note, which probably has his name on it, so can you do this later?” the man in line behind me asked impatiently.
I normally would have told him where he could shove his attitude, but I was too flustered. Instead I apologized reflexively and stepped toward the pickup area to wait.
“Lily,” a different barista called out, and I snatched the cup before she could even set it down.
On the sleeve, in black Sharpie, all capital letters, it read, START GETTING TO WORK ON TIME! —Alex.
I set the cup down on an open spot at the bar by the window and snapped a picture. I sent it to Becca first. What does THIS mean???? Then I texted Caryn as well. I wanted to send it to Megan, but I didn’t want to put her in the middle with Alex if I could avoid it.
That groomsman from Megan’s party? Becca replied immediately. I told her yes. Ugh why are guys never that cute and sweet with me?
Is it cute and sweet or weird?
Cute and sweet. Definitely.
But what does it MEAN?
Caryn texted back. Means get to work on time so I don’t have to cover for you every day. She put a winky face to show she was teasing.
He likes you, duh, Becca said.
Does he though? He didn’t, like, put his phone number on it or anything.
Yeah, but he’s saying he wants to see you again.
I hesitated. I can’t, I wrote eventually.
Why not?
Because I already hooked up with the gross groomsman from Megan’s wedding.
Would she actually care?
I thought for a minute. Megan would absolutely want me to be happy. But what would happen when it didn’t work out and I suddenly had two groomsmen whom I had to tell Megan not to pair me with for the ceremony? And I would have two of Tim’s friends I needed to avoid. It would be putting Megan in a rough spot, and I didn’t want to make her choose sides. Plus, I remembered how I felt the morning after her engagement party. And how much worse I felt seeing Justin at the housewarming party. That icky feeling wouldn’t just be doubled, it would grow exponentially with a second groomsman’s notch on my bed. Nope. Couldn’t do it.
Probably not if I really liked him. But what are the odds of it actually working out? Besides, I don’t want to be the girl who got involved with two different groomsmen.
That’s fair . . . So what are you going to do?
I hesitated again. Doing nothing sent a clear “not interested” message, but it would be rude to not acknowledge him, especially when he had bought me two coffees this week. And even if I wasn’t interested per se, there was something about Alex that I did like. He would make an awesome friend.
I looked at the line, which had died down to only three people, then checked my watch. Hell with it, I thought, and got back in line.
“Do you remember the guy who bought me my coffee?” I asked when I reached the barista.
“Of course,” she said. “He’s in here every day.”
“Can I pay for his order for tomorrow and leave him a note?”
She grinned and handed me a sleeve and a Sharpie. Her name tag said she was Taylor. “This is like Romeo and Juliet.”
I rolled my eyes. “That makes you the nurse and means we’re all dead by act five. He’s just a friend.”
“Wish I had a friend like that.” She grinned. “He’s cute.”
“All yours,” I said, starting to write: Why? Being late works out well when I get free coffee for it—you’re encouraging bad habits! —Lily. Too flirty, I told myself, then grabbed another sleeve. Taylor smiled irritatingly and I tried again. Never gonna happen . . . but thanks for the coffee! —Lily. Much better. I handed it to Taylor.
“I liked the first one better,” she said.
“Just friends,” I said again. I paid for the coffee and left, much later for work than usual.
I made it until lunch before I texted Megan. What’s Alex’s story?
The three dots appeared immediately to show she was typing. Funny . . . he asked Tim the same thing about you the other day. What’s going on there?
Nothing.
My phone rang. Megan knew me better than that.
“Tell me everything,” she said.
“There isn’t anything to tell. We hung out a little at your party and then I ran into him at Starbucks on Tuesday.”
“Yeah, he told Tim he ran into you. And?”
I thought about leaving out the coffee note, but I hadn’t encouraged anything, so there was nothing wrong with telling Megan that he had been flirty. Maybe. Was he being flirty?
“What are you leaving out?” She really did know me too well. I told her about the coffee cup.
“Aww, I like that. He’s a good guy.”
“What’s his deal?”