Page 27 of Common Grounds

By the time I slide the paper cup across the counter, I’ve probably heard the camera click at least fifty times. I hope Ethan’s got something good. From the self-satisfied look on his face, I think he does.

He packs up his camera quickly, then shoulders the bag. He grabs the coffee and tilts it to me in mock cheers.

“I’ll probably be back next week for more pictures.” He takes a few steps toward the door, but then turns back. “Emery’s a tough nut to crack. I want to see you both succeed, so I’ll do what I can, but…” He trails off as if considering how to proceed. “Just be patient with her, okay?”

I nod once. Ethan looks as if he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He just turns on his heel and walks quickly out the door.

Patient, huh? Patient, I can do.

***

Actually, patience can fuck right off.

I’m trying. I really am. But when Friday rolls around and Mike strolls into the shop with his laptop under his arm, I’ve taken to biting my nails to keep me from incessantly refreshing the magazine webpage as we wait for the article to be posted.

“She didn’t tell you when it would go live?” Mike asks sometime around ten o’clock.

“I haven’t spoken to her since the night she wandered in here with her friends.”

He stares at me for a second while he processes what I’ve just said. “Wait. Really?”

I slump into a chair and put my head in my hands. “Really.”

Mike sits across from me, setting his laptop between us. “You must have really messed something up if she can’t even see that talking to you about these stories is practically a necessity for this thing to work.”

“Thanks, Mike. I hadn’t thought of that,” I groan into my palms.

He chuckles, then sits up straight. “Oh, check it out. It’s up.”

I straighten and grab the laptop out of his hands despite his protests. Sure enough, there I am under the headline LOCAL COFFEE SHOP IN DANGER OF FAILING. I click on the title to open the full story as Mike scoots his chair around to read over my shoulder.

I skim the story. It’s fine, but that’s probably all I can say about it. It’s nothing special, that’s for sure. The whole thing basically repeats what Emery and I talked about on Monday night. Straight facts with absolutely no flair. I push the computer away and lean back in my chair, folding my arms.

“This isn’t going to do anything for me,” I mumble.

Mike takes the computer back and scrolls to the top. He eyes my picture and lets out a low whistle. “The article leaves something to be desired, that’s for sure, but look at you, buddy.” He swings the computer back to face me, my picture taking up almost the entire screen. “You’re, like, objectively hot.”

I scowl at him, then turn my attention back to the picture. I have to admit, I do look really good. My eyes are lit up, and I’m smiling as I steam milk. My forearms look pretty nice, too. Ethan may have known what he was talking about.

“I need to get that guy to take new pics of me for my dating apps,” Mike muses. I scoff, but Mike just shrugs. “Hey, think of it this way,” he continues, scrolling down the page once again. “You might not save your shop, but maybe you’ll get a girlfriend out of it.”

I give him the side eye. “Look who’s full of optimism now.” My voice is dripping with sarcasm.

He shakes his head, pointing at the screen. “Not optimism. Facts. Look at these comments.”

I lean in so I can see what he’s pointing at. There are three comments, and all of them say something about me.

Ooo, hello. Is he single?

Hey Coffee Shop Hottie. I’d let you make me a hot drink any day.

Check out my profile, Trevor. I love coffee and steam.

“Woah.” My eyes widen more with each comment I read.

“I know, right? This is awesome.” Mike’s eyes are gleaming with mischief. “Do you think I could be in the pictures for next week’s article?”

“No.”

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