Adam comes up to the register. “Braved the campground?” he asks, and I wish he wouldn’t say it so loud because I don’t want Carly to find out. Luckily, Carly is in her own little world, hunched over the counter as she works out the schedule for next week, nodding her head to the music like she agrees with it completely. Adam orders a black coffee, handing over his travel mug, and then a skim latte. I make the latte with two percent.

I try not to watch them, but I can’t help it. When Adam brings the movie star woman her coffee she flashes him a megawatt smile and takes the mug with both hands like the latte is a precious gift. Their fingers touch. He likes that. I can tell. He sits at the table. They pull notebooks from their bags, pointing to each other’s pages with their pens, scribbling and comparing. Eventually they lose interest in their work, chatting and laughing until the sky outside is solid dark and people start ordering food again.

Some guy orders the sandwich special and I have to run to the kitchen to give the Lettuce Murderer the slip. We still haven’t said two words to each other. I should probably introduce myself, but he’s washing dishes and I want to watch Adam and that lady, so I just yell, “Order up!” hit the bell, and get myself out front as fast as I can. “I’ll call your name when it’s ready,” I say to the guy who placed the order, and then I look over at the table and she’s gone. Adam is sitting alone, his notebook open again. At first I think maybe she’s just in the bathroom, but her coat is gone too.

Carly goes out back to smoke. I grab a pot of coffee and duck under the counter to give Adam a refill, like I’ve seen Carly do with the guys who drink drip.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Adam says, and I hate him for calling me kiddo.

“Hot date?” I ask, like a new nerve has suddenly sprouted in my body.

Adam gives me a total as if look. The way my face would be if someone asked me the same thing about Bodie. It scares me that you can get to be an adult and still feel that way.

“Anna’s a client,” Adam says. “I’m working on a design for her.”

I nod. Am I supposed to ask for what? Am I supposed to already know? I never read his business card. I knew if I let myself look at it, I’d call.

My wrist hurts, but I can’t switch hands because the other one is all cut up. I rest the coffeepot on the very edge of the table. I don’t think it will burn the wood, but I don’t want to risk setting it down completely.