Seven

GREG

The next day, Greg finds himself back at the kitchen table with Rufus and Jessica, eating more free Chipotle burrito bowls and discussing the evolving Julien situation.

"Whoa, workplace nemeses have to team up. This is getting good. I'm not even mad I had to cancel my Netflix subscription when real life has this much drama," Jessica says eagerly before scooping up a heaping dollop of guacamole with a chip. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to do a catering gig with Nadine. Probably quit, honestly. Did you say no?"

"Of course not," Greg says, pushing his food around. His appetite is a no-show thanks to his increased anxiety. He needs this job and the money it brings in. He can't afford to get fired or for the restaurant to close. He can only ignore the debt collectors for so long. Yeah, Rufus would probably let him slide a month or two on rent or utilities if he explained the situation, but that's just it. He doesn't want to explain the situation. This move was all about rebuilding his finances and, honestly, his life. Backsliding isn't an option. Except: "Julien seemed less than thrilled about it."

"Oh, so it's a two-way nemesis situation. You didn't say that before." Rufus says this like Greg has been withholding top secret information on a special spy mission. It isn't that deep.

"I don't think work nemeses are as common as you two think they are." Greg gives up the act and sets down his fork. He'll save this for a late snack when he gets back tonight. "I have no idea how to get in his good graces enough to make this work."

Jessica and Rufus both wear intense thinking faces before a bright idea seems to spark for Rufus. "Swing the pendulum in the other direction. If you were avoiding him before and that wasn't working, actively do the opposite."

"Stalking," Greg says, alarmed. "You're describing stalking."

"No!" Jessica clarifies for Rufus. It's sweet that they know each other that well. "What my lovely boyfriend is trying to get at is that you should befriend him. Invite him on a non-work-related outing and offer to pay."

"A date," Greg says, even more alarmed. "You're describing a date!"

Rufus takes the lead this time. "It's a low-pressure hang. Don't make it into a big thing. Just wave the white flag and show him the friendly, fun guy you are with us. Maybe he just needs to see you in a different context to get to know the real you. Maybe then he won't hate you."

"You think he hates me?" Greg can deal with ambivalence—he's done as much with his distant parents. He could even grow to live with dislike if he had to. But hate would be a step too far for him to handle. Hate in his comments section is ignorable, but IRL hate is not. Especially from someone he works so closely with, who seems as passionate about bar service as he is. The squeeze of being unwanted presses him from all sides until he feels ready to burst.

"No, nobody thinks he hates you. He just doesn't want a ticket to board the Greg train quite yet." Jessica's correction does not make the situation better. "We're all human. We're all judgy. Let's give him the chance to judge you in a different setting. Maybe a setting where he's more comfortable and less stressed."

Greg mulls this over. His current plan of awkward avoidance has been immature, and the results lackluster. A change of tactic sounds doable if anxiety-inducing. "Fine," he relents. "But how do we start?"

"The way all good nemeses-to-friends relationships start—light internet stalking."

"I called it! I knew there would be stalking."

Before Greg knows it, Jessica has his phone and is launching a search for Julien Boire. The blood rushes furiously to Greg's cheeks when Jessica and Rufus comment how Julien is already in his recent searches. "Seems like someone doth protest for no good reason," Rufus jokes.

Jessica cackles, then adds, "We're sending a follow and a friend request. You should do the honors!"

Greg tentatively reaches out to take his phone back, fingers shaky. "At the same time? Won't that be weird? Won't he think I was, like, weirdly thinking of him?"

"Aren't you thinking of him?" Jessica asks.

Greg rolls his eyes, bested, and scrolls through Julien's Facebook wall. There's not much there. The most recent update is that he's marked going to a paint-and-sip event at Studio Artiste, which is close to the restaurant. His new gaggle of older women friends who joke about his cocktails go there. "What do you both think of this?"

Rufus and Jessica lean in to read the screen. "That's perfect!"

"I agree. If he's already going, there's no way he can turn down your offer. It literally says right there, no refunds. He'd be out the money." Jessica is beaming.

"He might not care," Rufus says, which hits Greg in a sore spot. If only he had the luxury of not caring about money. Though, he lived in that space for a time, and it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Life had its other problems money couldn't cure.

"Maybe I could just sign up, and I'll bump into him there as if it were a total accident."

Jessica and Rufus smack Greg with matching looks of shock. "Now you're the one that's describing stalking!" Jessica jabs.

Greg hangs his head with a chuckle to himself. "I know it sounds egotistical, but... I'm just not used to people not liking me, okay?"

Greg has spent most of his life ensuring he never felt the way he did when he lived with his parents or when he didn't excel at the academy. He ran fast and far away from those feelings after graduating, working tirelessly to carve out his own life. He's worried that even after all that—all those years of toughening himself up—his skin still isn't thick enough to protect against lanky, scowly men who don't even know him.

Rufus's voice is serious when he speaks again. "Aw, Greg, man, we're just kidding around with you. We know you didn't do anything wrong. This Julien guy just needs to warm up to you. Maybe bring up the event to him at work tonight and say you were thinking about going, saw he was attending, and wanted to know if he's been before. It'll pull some of the pressure away."

"Wait," Jessica says suddenly. "That's what you did to me with trivia night at Ted's! You asked me if it was worth checking out, I told you I loved it, and then you mentioned you didn't have a team... Sneaky."

"If it works, it works!"

Jessica laughs to herself. "We'll see with Greg if it really works or if it's just your charm and good looks that worked on me." She leans over and kisses her boyfriend sweetly.

A pang hits Greg in the chest. He misses that kind of intimacy, but he has no time for that right now. He needs to quickly befriend Julien, who is practically his boss's child, so they can run successful events together and help Martin's Place thrive.

And he can keep his job.

And he can get out of debt.

These three thoughts braid together into an unbreakable strand of anxiety that pulses low in his gut.

Nervously, he hits the friend request button and hopes for the best.

JULIEN

Julien is in the middle of pleading with Aunt Augustine when his phone lights up with a notification. He doesn't see it right away because he's mid-monologue. "This is completely out of the blue. We're going to stress out the staff."

"Stress out the staff or stress out you specifically?" she asks, grabbing a sparkling seltzer bottle from the fridge below the bar and taking a sip. "Hun, I know you hate change, but we wouldn't have brought in Greg if we didn't think this is where we were headed. We're courting the college kids and the young professionals. Those are the people who watch Greg on TikTok."

"So this is all about Greg?" Julien asks, wishing after the fact that he didn't sound so petulant.

"It's also about you, hun." She looks him right in the eyes. "I'm not going to lie to you. Martin only cared about the cocktail night, but I know how much your sommelier studies mean to you, so Wine Down Wednesdays are a way for you to shine and flex your social skills. You light up when you talk about wine. Let's let people see you in that mode, maybe it'll help you shake off your shell a bit."

Julien doesn't want to molt or whatever. He is perfectly comfortable inside his shell. Or he was. Before Colin's move and Greg's arrival.

"Frankly," she continues, "it will also help us sell some of those expensive vintages you convinced us to stock."

He replies leadenly, "Fair. Okay. I'll give it a shot."

"That's the spirit!" She winces. "Well, almost the spirit! We'll work on it."

As Julien walks away into the back, bag still slung on his shoulder weighed down with his notebook and his course book, he pulls out his phone. On the screen are two notifications: Greg Harlow has followed you on Instagram. Greg Harlow has sent you a friend request on Facebook.

Facebook? Who still uses Facebook?

Admittedly, he does, but only to occasionally linger in special-interest sommelier groups and to get event invitations when the art studio a few blocks down hosts paint-and-sip nights. They work with a local winery he really loves, and for the price he gets to try new wines and paint a piece he can hang on the wall in his living room. He finds painting almost meditative. There is one later this week that he's looking forward to attending on his night off.

With Aunt Augustine's words trailing him, he accepts both notifications. A small letting of Greg Harlow into his life. Not that he posts much. His Instagram is artsy shots of wine bottles, and his Facebook wall is chock-full of people he barely knows wishing him a happy birthday dating back at least five years. Greg won't glean much about him from those.

Only, he finds out he's wrong rather quickly.

Before they open for the night, Greg wanders over to him while he's reading and asks if he can have a seat. Julien slides his bag off the bench to make room for the muscular mixologist. "How are you feeling about this whole happy hour business?"

Julien is surprised by this question. After their meeting with Uncle Martin, they spent the rest of their shift like they were repellant magnets. Suddenly, Greg is singing a different tune. "It is what it is. We should make the best of it."

In the hour since he spoke with Aunt Augustine, he's made peace with the knowledge that if these nights go well, his tips will be good, and his savings for the advanced sommelier course will accrue quicker. One step closer to Texas. One step closer to Master status. One step closer to getting out of the Lehigh Valley, a place that easily feels like a memory pit for him to get lost in forever.

Greg seems to be good at racking up tips when he's not upsetting long-term couples. Maybe this won't be all bad.

"I agree," Greg says, chipper. "I passed Studio Artiste on my walk in today and noticed they had a sign in their window about a paint-and-sip. I was thinking that might be a good place to tell people about our Wine Down Wednesdays. Could just be fun. Have you, uh, ever been?"

For a split second, Julien considers lying, telling Greg that he's never been and has no interest, but he can't bring himself to say the words. There's an earnestness in the set of Greg's brows that's new or at the very least new to Julien. He's used to seeing one eyebrow cocked, loaded, flirty. Directed at a customer or a coworker.

"I have," Julien says. "It's nice. I like it." He keeps his statements brief, even if his mouth wants to go on about the instructor and the calming wave of a brush across canvas.

"Any chance you're going this week? I saw there were a few spots still left."

Once again, Julien contemplates lying, ditching the class, and eating the price of admission because he finally wrestled himself out of the Greg/Braydon mind trap he was stuck in. This outing might be fodder for a grislier snare. But he's been looking forward to this class since the last one. Plus, he's in no position to be wasting money like that. What does it matter if Greg is there, too? They can choose easels next to one another, but that doesn't mean they have to talk. It's purely for happy hour visibility.

Julien nods, chest loosening. "I'm going."

"Great!" Greg says with a tad too much enthusiasm for Julien's taste. Though a small part of him does find it endearing. A small part of him. "I'll register online right now." Greg pulls out his phone.

When he unlocks the screen, Julien can't help but notice that Greg has the event page for the paint-and-sip open. Julien's attendance is marked. Clear as day.

He knows there's no malicious intent here. Instead, he's rather tickled that Greg would go through the trouble of playing pretend, giving Julien the illusion of spontaneity. It's a lie, but it's a white lie, and Julien can tell by the blush slowly spreading on Greg's cheeks that he needed to tell it for one reason or another, so he lets Greg off without comment.

"All set," Greg says, hurriedly putting his phone away. "Looking forward to it."

As Julien gets ready for his shift, he thinks, Maybe I am, too?