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Besides, if that doctor got in trouble, imagine how much worse it would be for a TA. I could probably get Diego kicked out of the university by mentioning that he spent the night here once. If there was anything but surprise in his face yesterday, it was likely fear.
Which is a damn shame, really. The man is easy to look at. And I’m guessing there aren’t too many straight guys going for a graduate degree in gender and sexuality, so my odds are better than usual.
If he wasn’t my teacher, of course.
Can we carve out an exception for TAs? They’re half-student, half-teacher. So does that make them half-available?
I mentally shake myself. Bad, Avery. Very bad. Worse still, I’m forgetting all about my customers while indulging my wishful thinking.
Thankfully, they don’t really notice. I slip gracefully back into the conversation and finish out my hour with them without a hitch. The other servers and I get a short break to use the bathroom upstairs or grab a snack before our next customers arrive, and the night winds on. Even with the massive changeover in staff over the past year, the café is basically on autopilot. My worst fears do not, in fact, come to fruition, and all four servers make it through three rounds of customers, then loosen our ties and unbutton our vests so we can clean up the cups and plates and crumbs on the carpet.
I make a point of being the last one out of the basement and locking it up behind me. Then I walk everyone around to the front of the house. All three of them are headed back to the university, and after what happened to a past server, Mal, I encourage them to make the trip together. Only Cameron grumbles about it, but Henry and Julian are chatting happily before I even finish waving goodbye.
I retreat to the quiet and solitude of Albert’s home. It feels huge and empty with just me inside it, but I can’t really complain. I’m a junior in college who has an entire freaking house. I’m tempted to see if any of the servers want to use the spare bedroom next year, though. It would be nice to have a roommate. I would get a pet, but I’m still a student, so in a year I might have to move, and that doesn’t sound very fair to the poor creature.
For now, the best I can do is call up my brother, Gabriel, who reliably answers every time I feel like chatting for no reason.
“Hey,” he says when I flop into bed with the phone. “How was opening night?”
“Everything went perfectly,” I say.
“Of course it did. I never had any doubts.”
Easy for him to say. He was never in charge when he worked at the Boyfriend Café. He was always just a server, and often he didn’t even do that alone. Him and his eventual boyfriend Trent had such a powerful dynamic even before they started dating that customers frequently requested them as a duo — and paid extra for it.
“I’m just glad nothing disastrous happened,” I say.
“Nothing disastrous is ever going to happen. You’ve got this,” Gabriel says.
He’s been saying it for a while. I’ve always been close with my oldest sibling, especially since we’re both queer, so he’s had to listen to all my complaining as the nerves got the better of me. He’s been a huge source of support, but he’s also not here anymore, so that support has been entirely over the phone.
“Anyway,” Gabriel says, “what about the rest of your life?”
“What rest of my life?” I say.
“Come on, Avery. You’re young. You’re in college. You have to do things other than work. I didn’t set you up withthis job so it could consume your whole life.”
“I know,” I say, “but eventually there was no one left but me. I kind of had to take it all on.”
Gabriel sighs. “Sometimes I regret dragging you into that café. I never meant for it to be a burden.”
“It’s not a burden. I love it. And Albert gave me his entire house so I could run the café. It’s not exactly a hardship.”
“That’s true,” Gabriel says, “but I haven’t heard you talk about anything else going on in your life except the café in ages. How are your classes? Are you going to parties? Have you met anyone? Tell me everything.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see it. “There’s not much to tell.”
“That’s sort of what I was afraid of.”
“My classes are getting tough,” I say in my defense. “I have this Queer and Trans History class and it’s going to be super intense. There’s a research project at the end of the semester and—”
“God, you are such a nerd,” Gabriel cuts in.
This, at least, is just brotherly banter. I’ve always been a huge history nerd, gobbling up textbooks that weren’t strictly required and regurgitating facts no one really wanted to hear.
“Yeah, well, it could be worse,” I say, hoping to deflect. “Did you ever hear any rumors about students hooking up with mentors and stuff when you were here?”
Gabriel gasps. “Avery. You didn’t!”
