“Hey,” Marcus called softly, his voice calm and tender. “You good?”
I shot a quick glance at him while working on the previous order. “Yeah, why?”
“You’re doing that thing with your face again.”
My brows drew together, accentuating the confusion in my gaze. “What thing?”
“The thing where you’re here, but you’re not actually here.”
I let out a quiet exhale and pulled the espresso shot, but said nothing.
“Everything all right?” he asked, drawing closer.
I rubbed my forehead, hating the idea of my colleagues at work seeing through my mask. “Uh…everything’s fine.” The slight pause came when I looked at him with a forced grin.
He glanced around for a moment, then fixed his eyes on me. “All right. Spill.”
“Spill what?”
“Come on, don’t play games with me,” he said. “We both know that was a fake smile.”
“No, it wasn’t.” A dismissive scoff fell off my lips.
“Yes, it was.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because you always smile with your eyes,” he answered. “You didn’t this time.”
I rested a hand on my hips, and my eyes locked onto him. Marcus was starting to read me like an open book. I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing.
He was the longest-standing employee at Joe’s. Mid-thirties, easygoing, and way too observant for my liking. The man was perpetually cheerful in a way that should have been annoying but wasn’t. Marcus Teel somehow made small talk with everyone, worker or customer, without it looking like an effort.
As charming and sweet as he was, sometimes, the man was a little too confident in his ability to read people.
“Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll back away.”
I paused for a moment, a faint grin tugging at my lips. “You’re wrong.”
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he grumbled.
“No gossip for you tonight, Marcus.” I grabbed Barry’s order and walked around the counter.
“I know there’s something going on with you,” he called as I left. “You know what they say: a problem shared is half solved.”
I ignored him, chuckling lightly.
After serving the order, I ran into Priya on my way back to the counter. Priya was Indian, the newest employee at Joe’s, who had been on the job for barely two months.
“Hey, there’s a guy at table seven asking if the barista is single,” she said in accented English.
I paused. “You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that. You’re a barista. Harriet’s also a barista.” I shot a glance at the brunette serving a table in a corner.
She raised her brows. “So are you.”
Another pause.
“You’re the one he’s asking about.”
