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milk— Frankie wants milk. “Not the skim kind, baby face.” Do I have a baby face? I wonder.
    7. Steam milk until thermometer reaches at least 180 degrees.
    8. Add shots of flavor if needed. For the German Chocolate Blended, we use a shot and a half of coconut syrup and a half shot of hazelnut, which I pour into the shot glasses.
    9. Add three pumps of chocolate— then one more because Frankie says, “I like my chocolate, can’t have enough of the chocolate.”
    10. For blended, we put the espresso shots, milk, flavored syrups, and chocolate in the blender with ice. Blend, pour, top with whipped cream and more chocolate syrup. Done.
    â€œOkay, there you go,” I say, handing him the drink.
    Aunt Jenna and I wait as he takes the smallest perceptible sip. He makes a slight grimace before the smile. “Mmm.”
    â€œIf you don’t like it, we’ll redo it,” I say. “I did wonder if I grabbed the sugar-free coconut.”
    â€œNo, girl, it’s just a little different.”
    â€œDifferent?”
    â€œDifferent doesn’t mean bad, now, does it? Look at me—I’m different. Is that a bad thing? But I’d better run. Much to do before tonight.” He says this as he’s leaving, calling at the door, “See you tonight. Nice to meet you, Ruby, and thanks.”
    My aunt and I stare after him a moment, until I finally say, “He didn’t like it, did he?”
    Aunt Jenna does that little scrunchy face she gets when trying to tell me something without hurting my feelings. “It’s not that he didn’t like it.”
    â€œHe hated it.”
    â€œYeah, he hated it.”
    â€œAnd he’s gay?”
    My aunt nods her head. “Yep.”
    â€œBummer.”
    We stare at the door after Frankie, look at each other, and laugh. But then the door opens and the horde arrives.

chapter five
    â€œPlease, no more coffee,” I protest with my hands up in surrender.
    After my preliminary espresso disaster, Aunt Jenny asked me to watch every espresso drink she made for the next hour while I worked the register. Her hands moved fast, and I asked her to slow down a few times.
    Then the samples began. She wanted me to distinguish between a cappuccino, latte, café mocha—how soy and rice milk changed the flavor, not to mention the different add-shots that include every flavor you can imagine. I spotted a “cheesecake” (interesting) and even a “blood orange” (ick!). In the sampling, I discovered some new coffee favorites like almond biscotti latte and Mexican café mocha. But enough is enough.
    Aunt Jenna pushes the little cup toward me. “Okay, but this one is s’more. It’s a mocha with marshmallow and graham cracker flavorings.”
    I give her a sickened look—this has to be my twentieth sample.
    â€œBut are you getting an idea of the different flavors and intensities?”
    â€œAm I ever.” I may become a tea person after this espresso overdose.
    â€œGood,” she says with a laugh. “Now take a break before we get ready for the filmies. You can go around the corner for gourmet pizza, or there’s a great salad place on the next block.”
    I take off my apron in the small back room and search for my phone to tell Kate about the cute gay guy I met and my new favorite coffee drinks. My phone is nowhere to be found in the holes and pockets of my bag. I dump out everything—my wallet, photos, gum wrappers, notes from friends, pens and pencils. Then I remember: it’s sitting at home charging in the window of my bedroom. Oh bother.
    My hands shake from the caffeine, and my stomach longs for something to combat the sweets, so I’m off to a late lunch somewhere. But self-consciousness pervades me as I walk toward the outside door. People have come in and out of the Underground for the last four hours, going about their business. I find it strangely hard to force