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“No, smile like you're smiling at someone you love,” Eleanor said.

“Someone I love?”

“Yes,” said Eleanor. “Smile like you're smiling at that person that makes your stomach flip over, the person who makes your skin tingle, your heart race.”

And all of a sudden Florence's hands were shaking and she dropped the cup she was holding. She could only watch as it shattered into a hundred pieces on the cool tiled floor.

“Oops,” Eleanor said. “Watch the register for a second, let me get a brush and dustpan.”

Florence leaned against the counter. Surely not? Surely not.

She'd know, wouldn't she? She was smart, she was an adult, she'd have figured it out long before now if it was true.

And yet... And yet Eleanor's words rang in her head. Silently, Florence made a checklist in her mind.

Makes your stomach flip over. Check.

Makes your skin tingle. Check.

Makes your heart race. Check.

All those things had happened to her in the last week. Every single one. Each one she'd chalked up to nerves or anger or a cool breeze or something, anything other than the one factor that united each reaction.

Hadley.

Which was absolutely ridiculous because... Because it was so ridiculous that she couldn't even list all the reasons.

There was no way in hell that she had feelings for long-legged, curly-haired, irresponsible, always-smiling Hadley.

“Accidents happen,” Eleanor said, coming back with a brush. “But let's try not to empty the shop of cups, eh?”

“Right, right,” Florence said, coming to her senses and bending down to help. “I'm really sorry. Truly sorry. I don't know what happened there.”

Eleanor looked up at her with eyes as glossy as dark chocolate, so close that Florence could see her freckles. “Well, I was talking about falling in love and you dropped a cup so, um, should I be drawing conclusions from that?”

Florence felt herself flush and stood up. She wanted out of this conversation right now, but she didn't know how to escape without offending someone who was supposed to be her boss.

Actually, she wanted to rewind the last two minutes of her life and play things back differently. Because it all made a lot of sense and no sense at all and she felt un-moored, like she was drifting at anchor or floating in the air and it was a disconcerting feeling.

Her. Hadley.

No way, no how.

There could be a hundred other explanations for stomachs flipping and hearts racing and why on earth would falling in love with Hadley, a woman no less, be any more likely than, say, food poisoning? Or perhaps some kind of heart condition. Or high blood pressure.

“Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to touch on a sore subject,” Eleanor said, standing up and throwing the pieces of broken cup into the trash. “It's a bad habit, prying into people's love lives and all.”

“Yes,” Florence said, because it was a bad habit.

“Can't help it, I kind of see it as part of the job.”

“Part of the job?” Florence asked, confused. She thought she was working in a coffee shop, not training to be a relationship counselor.

Eleanor grinned and pointed at the rainbow sticker on the back of the cash register. “I kind of run an advice service for baby gays.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Florence said.

“Well, this is a college town,” Eleanor explained. “A lotta kids come here and see this as their chance to be their real selves, a lot of people don't have the luxury of coming out at home, or aren't comfortable doing so. But when college starts it's a whole new life and one that can be confusing and new and scary.”