Page 46 of Fun Together
“Well, tell yourfriendI say hello.”
15
Faye
Eliand I are crammed in the corner of the coffee shop by the window, sitting hip to hip and hovered over my laptop. I cross my legs under the table and accidentally kick him in the shin.
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t think about how crowded it would be on a Sunday morning.”
He bumps me with his shoulder. “I don’t mind.”
“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask, ignoring the little flit of jitters I get when I’m around him now.
He scratches his beard. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s uncertain, like he’s buying time to think of the best way to say something. “This font is an interesting choice.”
“Is that your way of saying it’s terrible?” I ask.
“It’s not a bad font, but not the best for a resume. You may want to use something easier to read.”
I was so bored putting my resume together that I had to trick myself into making it entertaining by playing with fonts and formatting. “I was just trying to add a little flair.”
“Flair is nice, but I don’t know that it would be properly appreciated for this role.”
The role in question is something I think I’d be good at, even though project management is very different from what I do currently. Although, managing Alexis’s requests and moods can feel like a project in and of itself. I think I’m so desperate for something else, I’d take anything at this point.
“Flair aside, do you think I’d be a good fit for it? I don’t have a ton of experience with a lot of what they’re looking for.”
“Sometimes that doesn’t matter, especially since you have so much company knowledge. It says you started there as an intern?”
I nod.
“That’s good. It’ll show them you’re loyal. Committed to your career goals.” He waves his hand around. “You know what they like to hear.”
“Oh yeah, I know how to play the corporate lingo game.”
“Then this will be a breeze. I’m going to tell them they should interview you.”
“Just like that?”
He shrugs. “Sure, why not?”
I laugh. “You make everything sound so simple.”
“It’s not simple, but—” He gestures to my computer screen. “You’re the best I’ve talked to so far.”
Eli scrolls through the document, erasing some of what I have and replacing it with wording that makes more sense. I let him do his thing as I let my eyes wander around the busy shop.
I look up to the front, making brief eye contact with the barista. He’s tall, with short, blonde hair and I’ve always thought he was kind of cute. The butterflies in my stomach bounce around a bit and I’m relieved this isn’t a purely Eli phenomenon.I’ve thought about that pretend kissing last weekend way too much. So much I started dreaming up scenarios where the kissing wasn’t pretend at all.
And being so close to him in a cozy coffee shop isn’t helping matters. Our bodies have been pressed together the whole time we’ve been here. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but my skin hums against his, like a purring cat in a patch of sunlight.
I watch the barista brush a piece of hair out of his face before smiling at a customer and taking their order. Maybe the hot barista would be a good option to explore, but I have no idea what to do or say. And he’s working, so I don’t want to be the kind of person that bothers him while he’s trying to do his job.
“Are you okay?” Eli asks.
I shrug out of my jean jacket, attempting—and failing—to avoid touching Eli’s arm in the process. “Yeah, it’s just kind of hot in here.”
“What are you talking about? When we arrived you immediately put on your jacket and complained about how they’re blasting the AC.”
