Page 146 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Besides, Eli volunteered to work the morning shifts, which took some getting used to, but it pretty much means the day is his after noon. Most days, he takes off his apron and parks himself in a booth near the back of the shop with his laptop while he works on articles, essays, his résumé, and whatever ideas he’d come up with while he mindlessly cleaned the espresso machine.

And actually . . . it feels good.

Sure, most of his pieces have been rejected, but a few had thrown him into consideration, and some places had told him to resubmit with different material because they liked his voice but the subject matter didn’t fit or they just weren’t looking for freelance work at the time.

For the first time since college, Eli finally feels like he’s accomplishing something, making strides toward a future he actually wants.

Now if only he hadn’t had to lose Peter to get here.

“Eli! Back up front, we’ve got a line!” Corey, one of Eli’s supervisors, calls to him.

“On it!” Eli hops back over to the counter, waking the screen up.

The rushes are easy enough to deal with; they pass the time, even if some customers can be more demanding than Michael ever was. Still, his feet always ache at the end of every shift. And the smell of coffee beans seems to linger on his clothes and hair no matter how many times he washes them.

The rush ends as quickly as it began, giving Eli a chance to help his coworkers with the backed-up orders, cleaning up behind them and reheating pastries before doing a walkthrough of the dining area, collecting plates, leftover cups, wiping down the tables.

It’s easy . . . well, not easy.

More methodical. There’s always something for Eli to do, never a moment of downtime besides his breaks.

It helps him not to think.

He still hopes, no matter how foolish he knows it to be, that Peter might call or text him, that when he checks his phone at the end of a shift, he’ll see a missed-call notification, an unread text, Peter asking him to talk.

That’s all he wants.

The chance to talk to him, one last time.

But maybe it’s for the best that no text has arrived. Maybe it’s better for Eli to give himself the space and time to move on from Peter. Eventually, he’ll get back out there, find someone else to date, and this time . . . he won’t lie to them, won’t make them a laughingstock online.

“Eli!” Corey calls out again. “Counter!”

“Coming!” Eli leaves the dishes near the sink in the back to be cleaned later, rushing another influx of orders. It took him a week to really get down how the machines work; he still doesn’t fully remember all the recipes, but he’s close. He only has to consult the binder he’d been given on the first day for a handful of drinks, a fact he’s pretty proud of.

It’s during a slower moment, when Eli is setting a newly cleaned mug on the drying rack, that he hears the bell above the door ring, not thinking anything of it.

Because why would he? People have been coming in and out since they unlocked the doors at six in the morning.

He looks up instinctively, a greeting on his lips that dies the moment he sees who is at the door. Because of course Peter Park would come to this coffee shop. In a city full of hundreds, if not thousands of places to get coffee, Peter Park would walk into this establishment. Except, he isn’t walking through the door.

No, instead he’s holding it for another man, shorter than Peter, dressed in nice pants and a soft black button-up, a laptop bag thrown over his shoulder.

There’s a clear look of familiarity between the two of them. They know one another. Once inside, Peter steps in behind this stranger. They smile at one another; the other man whispers a joke and Peter laughs that warm sound.

Fuck.

Eli backs away without realizing what he’s doing, slipping past the door to the kitchen area.

“Eli!” Corey calls out.

He’s with another guy, Eli thinks to himself. And that’s all he thinks. His palms turn clammy, and he tries to wipe the anxiety off onto his apron.

“Eli! Counter!”

“I’m taking my break,” Eli whispers to the nearest coworker, Sam. Sam cleans most of the dishes and smokes weed behind the building on his breaks. And sometimes he’ll share his joints.

Eli likes him a lot.