Page 39 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start

“Good luck,” I tell him, proud my voice sounds almost normal instead of like I just breathed helium. “Don’t let them scare you. Half of them still think the internet will go away, and the other half think development is a curse word.”

“Very encouraging.”

He walks toward the door, then stops with his hand on the handle like he forgot something important. “Michelle?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For the tie thing. And for... everything else that just happened that we’re definitely not going to think about right now.”

After he leaves, Caroline and I sit in heavy silence. The only sounds are the espresso machine and my dignity dying slowly.

“So,” Caroline says, tone casual but dripping with amusement, “that was the most romantic disaster I’ve ever seen before nine a.m.”

“What was? I fixed a tie. Basic human kindness.”

“Yeah, sure. Totally normal kindness. Most people help their mortal enemies adjust their accessories while making intense eye contact.”

I focus on her latte art like it’s a final exam. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Caroline sips her drink, unimpressed. “Of course you don’t. Classic. Denial looks good on you, though—real subtle.”

“His tie was never that tragic before.”

“And I’ve definitely never seen you look at him like you wanted to drag him into the back room and make out with him while also planning his professional destruction.”

“Caroline!” I almost drop her mug, which would be terrible because she needs caffeine to survive math class, and I need herto survive math class so she can keep helping me fight Grayson’s demolition plans. “What are you saying?”

“What? I’m just observing. The romantic tension in here was thicker than your cinnamon roll frosting and twice as sweet.”

“There was no romantic tension. There was helpful community assistance with side effects.”

“Right. Community assistance that made you both forget how to breathe normally.”

I slide her coffee across the counter with maybe more violence than necessary. “Drink your caffeine and go learn economics. Stop analyzing my nonexistent love life like it’s your homework.”

“Nonexistent?” Caroline raises an eyebrow like she’s been taking lessons from Jessica and the FBI. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked very existent.”

“Caroline.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll drop it. But if you’re going to keep giving emergency fashion help to your professional enemies, you might want to work on your poker face. It’s currently advertising your feelings like a neon sign.”

“Noted and filed under ‘Things I Never Asked For.’”

After Caroline leaves for class, I’m alone with my espresso machine and leftover cedar cologne that won’t go away like a ghost of poor choices.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down, already dreading what fresh humiliation awaits me.

Caroline has posted on social media. Of course she has.

The first picture is Grayson standing in front of the counter with his tie hanging like a defeated flag. Caroline’s caption reads:“This tie personally offended me. Michelle agreed. #TieEmergency.”

The next shot—oh, fantastic—is me standing close enough to feel his heartbeat while I straighten the knot. The text overlay:“Community service, but make it fashion.”

And then the final picture, the worst of them all: both of us staring at each other like we’ve just discovered the cure for loneliness. Caroline’s verdict in block letters:“Professional enemies. Totally believable.”

Heat prickles across my cheeks. The comments are already rolling in, little hearts and laughing emojis exploding across the screen like confetti at my execution.

My phone buzzes again. Jessica this time.