Page 85 of Fostering Chemistry
Okay, I was sensing a pattern. When I wanted to talk, he didn’t. When he wanted to talk, I didn’t. Perfect.
I stopped, feeling a wave of dizziness come over me. “Not today, Cody, okay?”
His face fell, and I felt as bad as if I’d just taken a swing at him. But he’d taken the first swing—metaphorically speaking—the other night.
His brow was furrowed, and I realized he was gearing up to say something to me, and right now, there just wasn’t anything I wanted to hear. Except perhaps: class and work have been canceled, go home and go to sleep. But I couldn’t just take off on him. That would be cruel, given his issues with communication, so I waited.
“After the movie night,” he began. “I didn’t… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” His voice was quiet.
I sighed. “It will be. I could just use a little space right now.”
“Okay.” He took a step back. Great. He’d hurt me, and now I’d hurt him.
“See you,” I said feebly, and turned, almost losing my balance, to head toward the coffee shop. But then, his voice stopped me.
“Are you all right? You look…” He trailed off, gesturing toward my face. How lovely to know that I looked as badly as I felt.
“I’m fine, just tired. See you.”
This time I said that last part firmly, and I walked away without looking back.
I wipeddown the counter for the third time in ten minutes, trying to blink away the throbbing in my head. My arms felt heavy, and there was a strange sort of weight in my chest, like I was walking through molasses. The bell above the door didn’t ring—no surprise there. It was one of those slow, gray afternoons when the campus seemed to be sleeping. Or just, you know, elsewhere.
I was trying not to lean too hard on the counter when Zoe strode in, her clipboard clutched in her hands like a lifeline.
“Mia,” she said without even glancing at me, “we need to talk about numbers. I checked the numbers from last few months, and we’re not even breaking even on Wednesdays.”
I swallowed, blinking through a wave of dizziness. “That’s probably because nobody comes in on Wednesdays.” Was there actually a day of the week we did break even?
She sighed and dropped her clipboard on the counter with a dramatic thud. “That’s the problem. We need promotions, visibility, something! We should start a loyalty card program or themed drinks for the season. What about a ‘Midterms Mocha Madness’ thing? Or drinks featuring cinnamon now that the weather’s getting colder. We need to drive engagement. I made a list of ideas. When you’re done cleaning the counter, we can go through them.”
My headache pulsed. “Zoe,” I said, too flat, too blunt, “you’re trying to market to a crowd that doesn’t exist. We don’t have customers because this shop is practically invisible. We could hand out gold with every latte and still not get traffic. Get a hint, it’s just not going to happen!” I stopped abruptly, shocked at my lack of control.
She blinked, taken aback. “Well, thanks for the support.”
I sighed. “I didn’t mean?—”
But her eyes were already welling up, and her lips trembled. “I know this place isn’t perfect, okay? But I’m trying.”
The tears started, and guilt hit hard. “Zoe?—”
She shook her head and leaned against the counter, arms crossed tight. “This is my senior project, Mia. My grade. My future. If I can’t show improvement in sales and operations in the next few months, I’m sunk.”
I stepped out from behind the counter, my legs not entirely steady. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just—” I paused, searching for words through the fog in my head. “I’m not feeling great today.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Welcome to the club.”
We stood in awkward silence for a beat before she rubbed her sleeve under her nose and added, “This morning I got another rejection. That’s three now. No internship, no winter placement. Meanwhile, half the students here get handed dream opportunities by their parents like it’s no big deal. I don’t have a mom who’s friends with a celebrity chef. My dad’s not a senator. I just have this stupid coffee shop and a pile of applications nobody’s even reading.”
“Applications for?”
“An internship over the winter holidays. It’s a huge time of the year for the hospitality industry. If I could land the right one, it would increase my job prospects at least twofold. But I can’t find anything.”
My throat tightened. “That sucks,” I said quietly. “You deserve better.”
