I bat a hand at him to dispel my embarrassment and keep reading the review.“We actually can’t wait to go back again. Zach and Greta are excellent hosts, and they make such a cute couple—”
I choke.
My face flames. My gaze snaps to Zach and then darts away. But I don’t miss that his mouth is hanging open.
I force a laugh. “W-Wow. They—They thought—”
“Yeah—” Zach chuckles, head down. He pushes away from the island, mug in hand. “Want more coffee?”
“Um…” My cup is still half full. I think his is too. “I’m good.”
He keeps his back to me as he tops off his mug. His shoulders look as wooden as utility poles.
It must bother him that the couple assumed we were together. And why wouldn’t they? We share a camper. No hiding that.
I wonder if the construction crew we’ve hired thinks the same thing.
And the baristas at Reve.
And the cashier at Black Pot.
Would it be more or less awkward to tell people up front that we’renottogether?
Is that even necessary?
Why am I worrying about this?
Probably because Zach seems uncomfortable, and who could blame him?
We’re business partners.
In a Venn diagram of us, the fields ofBusiness PartnersandVictims of Joshua Bassettwould overlap completely, but until recently, theFriendscircle wouldn’t have intersected at all.
It does now. And I’m grateful that intersection exists, even if it’s just a tiny sliver on the graph.
So if the thought of people mistaking us for a couple embarrasses Zach or makes him uncomfortable, I want to do whatever I can to alleviate that.
Because I can say without a doubt that this sliver of friendship feels like a lifeline sometimes.
“We can introduce ourselves as business partners,” I blurt. Seeing his confused frown, I tack on, “To our guests, I mean. So they don’t get the wrong idea.”
He blinks at me before looking away. Color rises to his cheeks.
Oh my God. Is he mortified at the thought of people shipping us?
Zach shrugs. “Whatever you think,” he mumbles before carrying his full mug back to his stool.
It shouldn’t, but seeing him flustered tickles me. Zach is always cute, but he’s especially cute when he’s blushing. I lift my coffee cup to hide my smile.
“If it embarrasses you, I can be the one who lets people know we’re just friends.”
He freezes, staring at me like I’ve just fired a gun. “Embarrass me?”
Now I’m grinning full out. “People thinking we’re togeth—”
“It doesn’t embarrass m—” He shakes his head, agitated. Is his blush deepening? “It’s fine.”
I can’t help giggling. “It certainlyseemsfine.” I lift my coffee cup in his direction, indicating his radical blush.