Page 78 of Meet Fake


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“Oh, sweetie,” she smiles. “I’m glad you’re okay. We all missed you around here.”

“I missed everyone, too.”

I love this job. It may not be up to par for some people, but it’s fun. I serve my community, and I meet amazing people.

“I wanted to talk to you about something else. I heard you have experience working with computers. You were studying computer engineering in college?” She tilts her head.

“Uh, yeah.” I have no idea who would’ve told her that.

“So you know about websites?” Her eyes widen hopefully.

“Yes,” I nod slowly.

“Great.” She claps her hands. “I’ve been wanting to spruce up our website. I haven’t made it a priority, and the idea of finding someone to do it felt daunting. Would you be interested?”

“Like, to redo it?” I point to myself.

Elizabeth laughs. “Yes. It’ll be a separate job from your position as a barista. If you’re up for it and feel you can work on it on your days off here.”

“Are you serious?” My eyes widen. I want to leap and hug her. “I’d love to.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Think about what you’d like to charge, and I’ll be happy to pay it.”

“Oh.” I frown. “I’ll be honest. I’ve never done this as a job, so I wouldn’t know how to charge you.”

“Then budget it out—your time and the work you’ll put into it. I’m sure you’ll come up with a fair price for both of us.” Her smile is genuine.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m so glad you can help. I’ll let you know a few points I want to include on the site.”

“Great, just give me a list of things you’d like me to incorporate, and I’ll start working on it right away.”

The possibility of doing something like this excites me. I never thought our conversation would take this turn. I expected a serious speech about missing work and not being an effective employee. An extra job to make more money? No way.

I practically float out of the kitchen with my apron, but my heart halts when I see Tristan sitting at the counter, his eyes glued to me.

19

Tristan

Sage slowly inches toward me as she ties her apron around her waist. Her hair swings with her movements, revealing old-school Gameboy earrings.

I missed seeing her funky earrings.

Although I’ve seen her every day while she’s been sick, seeing her walking on her own two feet and with a smile feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she says shyly.

These last few days have been different. Seeing Sage so vulnerable punched me in the gut. Everything I’ve been trying to keep buried came to the surface.

I like her. A whole lot.

“How are you feeling?” I sit taller on the stool and lean on my elbows.

“Good,” she smiles. “Like a new person.”

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