“Nick,” I say when I’m at the counter to get my second mocha, “did this guy bail on me?”
Nick hands me my drink, unconcerned. “Maybe he’s caught in traffic.”
I sit back down and consider this. If this was a rom-com, Barry’s bad first impression would only be a setup for our eventual love affair. It’s like When Harry Met Sally . . . I mean, even their names rhyme! Barry, Harry, it’s all pretty much the same, right?
The bell above the door jingles and a man walks in. I immediately recognize him from the picture Chloe showed me.
I wave as he crosses the room. “Hi, I’m—” I start, standing up and holding out my hand, but he pulls me into a hug.
“Ooof,” I exhale into his puffy jacket.
“Sorry, I’m kind of sweaty,” he apologizes, taking off his coat to reveal that he’s wearing extremely tight leggings and a sweat-soaked T-shirt. “I ran here.”
“Oh, you . . . you run?” I ask, sitting down and trying not to focus on the sweat on his light-gray T-shirt.
“Big time,” he says. “Do you?”
“Oh, certainly not,” I say with a laugh. “Only if there’s a particularly great-looking donut across the street and time is of the essence.”
He waves a hand. “I used to be like you. Inactive, a few pounds overweight, but running changed everything. You should give it a try.”
I blink a few times and attempt a polite smile. Surely he didn’t mean to comment on my weight.
“Right. Um, well, did you want to order something?”
Barry squints toward the counter. “Do you think they have anything sugar-free?”
I think about the case full of Chloe’s white chocolate macadamia-nut brownies. While I’m sure she’d be happy to bake something for someone with dietary restrictions, I know that her personal beliefs tend toward butter and sugar. “To be honest with you, I highly doubt it. But you can grab a black coffee . . . Nick’s is the best.”
Barry shakes his head. “I don’t do caffeine.”
I nod slowly, wondering why he agreed to meet me at a coffee shop. “I think he has some herbal tea . . .”
“I actually don’t like any hot liquids,” Barry says, leaning forward. “They slow down my metabolism.”
“How about I grab you a water?” I ask, then bolt up to the counter before he can tell me anything more about his hydration preferences.
“Nick,” I hiss. “This is a bust.”
“Why?” Nick looks over at the table way too obviously, but luckily Barry isn’t paying attention. “He looks fine . . . wait, is that sweat?”
“Yes. He ran here.”
Nick looks at me in shock. “That’s what that smell is? Thank God. I thought the sewage pipe backed up again.”
“Nope. That’s just the love of my life, stinking up the joint, telling me all about how he doesn’t drink hot liquids.”
“Wait, what?” Nick asks.
I shake my head. “Just . . . can I have a glass of water, please? Make it cold.”
“Maybe you can toss it on him and wash off some of the stink,” Nick mutters.
I sigh and glance down at my outfit. I dressed up for this. I’m wearing an adorable pair of booties and a comfortable-yet-cute sweater dress over thick tights. I was slightly inspired by Meg Ryan’s giant, neutral wardrobe in You’ve Got Mail, but hopefully my look is a little less ’90s and oversized. But it’s looking like I shouldn’t even have bothered; it’s not like Barry has noticed anything about me, other than the fact that he apparently thinks I should lose a few pounds.
I sit down and hand Barry his glass of water, which he takes without a “thank you.” “So what do you do?” I ask, hoping to change my initial impression of him.
“I wouldn’t say I’m into traditional ‘employment,’ per se,” he says, making air quotes. I hear the bell above the door jingle and Nick casually saying, “Hey, man.”
The coffee shop is largely empty this evening—just Gary and a couple of other old guys silently reading the paper—so I’m the only one who notices who walks in.
It’s Drew. What the hell is this guy’s problem? This is a major American city and there are, like, twenty other coffee shops he could go to.
“Oh, no,” I mutter.
“It’s actually not that gross,” Barry says. “I really inspect everything before I eat it.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, looking back at him, realizing he’s been talking this entire time.
“The food I find in the dumpster,” he says. “Most people only grab things that haven’t been