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I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I really don’t have time for this right now, you two. Please go fight about it somewhere else.”
Cameron folds his arms over his chest and grumbles. Julian chuckles, which doesn’t help with Cameron’s sour mood. I resolve to ignore both of them. Whatever family spat they have going on, it’s not my problem, especially not when I have so much else on my plate this semester.
“Is that all?” I say.
Thankfully, the other two members of the café say nothing, and I dismiss everyone, telling them I’ll see them in a few days for our official opening night. I slouch forward in my chair before they even leave. I’m exhausted and the school year hasn’t even begun, but what can I do about it? My brother and everyone else left me behind to carry on the legacy of the Boyfriend Café. I’ve had to find a brand new crew, a brand new manager, a brand new bakery to partner with for the treats we sell alongside the tea. If it falls apart it’ll be entirely my fault. I don’t have time tonotbe exhausted.
“Drink,” someone says.
I jerk upright and find the new manager, Mia, sitting beside me with a hot cup of tea in her hands. I accept, and immediately the gently floral scent of jasmine tea wraps around me like a warm blanket.
“How did you know this is my favorite?” I say.
“Because you served it when you interviewed me,” Mia says. She has a dark ponytail, much like mine, but her eyes match her hair, where mine are far lighter. “Are you okay?”
“Are you interviewing to be a server now?” I say.
She chuckles. “No way. I don’t want to deal with customers all night. Sounds stressful. Leave me to my spreadsheets, please. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing alright.”
I plucked Mia out of C U of M’s business school at the end of last year. She worked with me all summer to get us organized well before our opening night in a few days, and as a result, I’ve become pretty close with her. But I didn’t expect to have her checking in on me like this.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Are you sure? Classes haven’t even started and you have bags under your eyes.”
I pull at the skin around my eyes. “Oh God, do I? Stress will demolish my skincare routine.”
Mia rolls her eyes. “As though you aren’t the most gorgeous bitch in this basement every night.”
Even in my stressed out state, I can’t help but wave ahand to indicate my fashionably slinky sweater and long skirt. It’s a look that definitely draws attention, but I’ve been out as queer and non-binary since high school; I’m used to drawing attention. Besides, my loose, long, soft skirt is super comfortable, and I’m not sacrificing my comfort so other people can feel better about what I’m wearing.
“But I’m serious,” Mia says. “You’re taking on a lot this year. I’ll have your back as much as I can, but you have to let me help you, Avery. You have to tell me what’s going on.”
“I promise you, you know everything that’s going on,” I say. “I’m not hiding anything from you. I just can’t stop worrying about all of it. I really need this year to go well. Otherwise all of the original Boyfriend Café guys will hate me for ruining this.”
“They would never hate you,” Mia says. “One is your brother. I’m sure they’d want you to have fun and enjoy your college experience instead of working yourself to the bone.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, as though I have time to ‘enjoy my college experience.’”
Mia shoves my shoulder. “You should make time. We won’t be young forever. You can’t spend your best years doing nothing but working.”
“God, I hope this isn’t my best years,” I grumble.
Of course, Mia hears me.
“You know what I mean,” she says. “You should be going to parties, meeting people, hooking up. All that college stuff.”
“When in the world would I have time for ‘hooking up?’” I say.
“I don’t know. Make time. What are you, a nun?”
“Ew, no. But who am I going to meet? One of our customers? Those are the only people I see besides you and the guys, and I’m not dating one of my servers. Some of us don’t have time for the ‘college experience,’ and that’s just how it is.”
Mia scowls, but we’ve been through this debate plenty of times before, and thankfully tonight it seems like she’s tired enough to let the matter drop.
“Fine,” she says. “But I’m getting you out of this basement at least a couple times this semester. There are a couple queer bars around here where you can get in before you’re twenty-one. You just can’t drink.”
“What’s the point then?”
