The People We Keep(40)
When Adam finally opens the bathroom door, he doesn’t come back to me. I hear cabinets open and close, water pouring and then the burbling sound of a coffee maker.
I am not sure what to do with myself. I yell, “Are you making coffee so you can go get coffee?”
“Busted!” Adam shouts. “I need fuel for my walk to the coffee shop.”
“Me too.” I find his long sleeve flannel wadded on the floor and wear it, like women do on TV. Like I’ve done this before and it’s no big deal.
“You sleep okay?” he calls.
“Yeah,” I say, walking into the kitchen, bare feet on the cold floor. My legs feel so naked. I’m worried he doesn’t want me, that I’m doing something wrong and that’s why he didn’t come back to bed, why he doesn’t want me to touch him. I’m worried it means I won’t be welcome for long, that maybe I’m not even welcome now, but then he brushes my hair out of my face and says, “God, you’re gorgeous.” He gives me the kind of kiss that makes me grab the counter to steady myself because I’m not sure which end is up.
* * *
Adam holds my good hand while we walk to the coffee shop together. And we’re clean and smell like peppermint soap, and I’m wearing one of his sweaters with the sleeves rolled up, because we’re going to wash all my clothes in the laundry room in the basement of his building tonight and fold them while we watch Seinfeld and order calzones from the place down the street, and I know it’s stupid, but it means everything to me to have plans further ahead than the next twenty minutes.
When we get to The Commons, Adam drops my hand and says, “Here. Take my key again.” He’s blushing. “You know, in case you need to stop in at your lunch break, or you go home before I do.”
I know he’s saying home like it’s nothing, just the place he lives, so I try not to be that girl, the kind who takes the most stupid little word and lets it turn her inside out.
“Thanks,” I say quickly.
He brushes his lips against my cheek. “I’ll let you go in first, so they don’t think we’re together.”
My blood stops short in my veins. I’m sure I don’t look like I’m playing it cool this time, because he kisses me on the mouth and says, “Just so it’s easier on you at work. And so I can watch you walk away.”
— Chapter 18 —
“Pilgrim! How goes it?” Bodie says in his lazy lilt when I walk in. He’s taking orders up front, and the line is almost out the door. He has a pencil behind his ear and chews on a red coffee stirrer like it’s a piece of hay. “Do you know how to total when there’s more than one item?” he asks, while I duck under the counter.
I reach from behind him and hit the add button. “Now put the next one in,” I say.
“Thanks, P.” Bodie gives me that great big grin that makes his eyes all but disappear. “Carly called. She’ll be in late. Problem with the espresso delivery.”
The way he says it makes me think maybe it’s some kind of code, but what he could be saying between the lines is lost on me.
“What did you do if you didn’t know how to add up items?” I ask.
“I just did each one as a separate transaction,” Bodie says, moving his coffee stirrer to the other side of his mouth. He scoops espresso into the little metal basket, tamps it down slowly, carefully, like it’s the only thing he has to do all morning.
It drives me crazy. “I got this.” I grab the tamper out of his hand. “You take orders and I’ll get them done,” I say, even though I still have to look at the board to see what goes in which drink. I throw my weight into tamping the coffee and screw the basket into the machine, but by the time I finish the drink, Bodie is too busy chatting up some cute hippie girl in a chunky sweater to have an order for me. “Next up?” I ask.
The girl smiles. “Oh, I don’t know what I want yet.” She steps back like she’s just now going to look at the board and think about her order.
“I’ll come back to you,” I say, pointing to the person behind her, who looks relieved. Hippie girl and Bodie move to the side, continuing with whatever the hell they’re talking about, and I go into full gear.
Carly comes in a few minutes later with a sack of coffee slung over her shoulder, walking bowlegged because it’s so heavy. Bodie doesn’t even look up or offer to help. I’ve got the line down to three people now, if you don’t count the hippie girl, and I don’t. The last person in line is Adam. He smiles at me whenever we make eye contact.
Carly dumps the sack on the counter with a loud thump. “You are a saint,” she says, hugging me dramatically when she gets to my side of the counter. It makes me blush like when Margo hugs me. “I was dreading what I’d walk into, leaving Bodie in charge. He’s lucky he’s cute, huh?” She rolls her eyes. “Bodie! Kitchen!”
Bodie pats the hand of the hippie girl, takes the pencil from behind his ear, and writes something on a napkin that he hands to her. And as ridiculous as Bodie is and as much as it’s nice to have Adam smiling at me while he waits for his coffee, I still wish just a little bit that whatever Bodie was writing he was writing for me.
“Alright, alright,” Bodie says, walking past us.