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?”
“He went to high school with Tim. He’s divorced. Got married a few years ago, but it didn’t work out.”
I recoiled slightly. Sure, I knew people who had been divorced. At thirty-two, who didn’t? But I had avoided dating into that pool. Anyone who had already hit that level of commitment seemed like they were on a different plane of existence than I was. “Kids?”