"Lara Jean? Where are you? I'm about to head out to the restaurant. Should I just meet you there? Lara Jean?" Mia asks through the phone.

Peter waves me at me from our booth in a bar too far away from the restaurant I'm supposed to be heading towards. "I don't think I'm gonna make it today, Mia. Sorry, something came up."

"Are you serious? I can't just go on a date with TWO guys—"

I hang up and head back with a nervous smile on my face. I can feel my cheeks reddening partly from the alcohol and partly from the situation. When Peter walked into the cafe to be trained today, I certainly didn't think we'd sit at a bar later and just catch up after zero communication for the last four or five years.

"Everything alright, Covey?" he asks and I know I've been reduced to a character from my airport romance novels because I'm genuinely lost in his eyes. I'm sixteen again and my breath hitches. It was worse when we were working the shift.

I take them through the back area where my kitchen experiments happen, and then I show them the dishwasher settings for the big ceramic mugs Trixie collected over the years. All this time, Peter looks like he has something to say, but his lips are zipped shut.

"Laura, are we supposed to bake stuff if we're on the morning shift?" Danielle pokes around the ovens.

"It's Lara Jean," Peter says before I can correct her, and then they both look at me for an answer.

I stutter, "Uh y-yes, probably as you get more used to this place. But for now, I've got those covered in the mornings and Trixie makes the afternoon batches. We'll start with the hot drinks menu and build on from there." I take them back through the door and into the main area to show them how to operate the coffee machine.

As I go through, Peter and I bump into each other. It's barely any contact, but we both begin mumbling half apologies at the same time. "Sorry—no, you're fine. Sorry. Yes, so... we can start... and then... mugs are over here, Danielle!" I say awkwardly and walk to the farthest corner hoping I'm not blushing too hard. I scold myself for being so childish. Yes, he's my first love. And ex-boyfriend. And it's been years since we've talked. And I'm training him. I sigh loudly in disbelief.

"Is this yours, Covey?" Peter says as he pulls down something from the shelf. It's a slightly misshapen teal mug that looks like the hatbox my mom gave me when I was younger. Peter looks inside the mug and smiles, and I know he's seen the small drawings of envelopes at the bottom. I thought it was a cool surprise to find, but no one ever understood why there would be letters at the bottom of a box.

"Trixie likes to collect one-of-a-kind wide soup-mugs." I say, avoiding the question. I look at Danielle, "When you're done with your full training, Trix will take you to a pottery studio down the street and you'll make your own."

I hand them each a pack of flashcards that has each of the menu items and how to make them. I tell them to memorize the hot drinks before their second shift, and then show them the little visual guide that we hide from customers, but are perfectly placed for baristas to check on when they need to remember a recipe quickly. I made these a few weeks ago for myself so I don't get flustered, but I think it will be helpful.

"Hey LJ," I turn around and see Martin, a regular customer. "How's it going?"

We chat for a little bit until I realize Peter and Danielle are waiting for me. I look over at Peter and notice him looking at Martin a little suspiciously, but I'm not sure. I'm probably being paranoid. I mean we've been broken up for a while, heck we haven't seen each other in years. He could be in a relationship for all I know, and that's fine. I wouldn't be jealous if that were the case and he wouldn't be jealous now either.

I turn towards the two of them and hand them a to-go cup. "I'll take you through this order on the main coffee machine, and you two try to do the same thing on the second one." While Danielle fumbles for a while, Peter surprisingly does the job with more ease even if he looks at his notes regularly. We continue doing this for the next few customers that filter in, and at some point, he gives full reins to Danielle while he runs back and forth to put the duplicate drinks in the fridge. I know I'll be handing them out to the graduate crowd that will come in later.

By the end of the hour, they're able to operate the main coffee machine with a bit more confidence. I conclude the training and remind Danielle to come back later for her shift with Trixie. Before I know it, it's just Peter and I left in the building. It's 1pm and the main room is empty.

I count the drawer again, which make no sense since I'm not clocking off yet. Peter seems like he doesn't know what to do either because he wipes the same counter down even though it's completely dry. I'm so curious about what he's doing here in San Diego of all places. Does he still talk to Kitty? Did Kitty know? Should I be mad at Kitty? I pull out my phone to text her when Peter clears his throat, and I look up at him.

"Hi," he looks at me warmly.

I suck in a breath, "What are you doing here?"

I sit back down at our table and twiddle my thumbs. "You still haven't answered my question, you know."

He avoids my eyes and moves his straw around his drink. "I didn't know you were working there," he begins, "but I knew you were somewhere in the area. I figured we'd run into each other eventually. I've actually been in the area for about a year?"

"How did you...?"

"Gen told me."

"But I didn't—"

"I know. Chris mentioned it in passing to her at the reunion, which you missed by the way," he says joke-accusingly, "and then she told me when I was home for Christmas, and then Kitty kind of confirmed it when I tried coming by your house to see...you."

Kitty, what the hell? The alcohol combined with the news makes me dizzy.

"Don't be mad at Kitty," he says quickly, somehow knowing what I'm thinking. "She probably doesn't even remember that she mentioned it in passing. She was talking about where Margot was and you were, and your dad moving hospitals, and I don't know. I was just really curious to see how you were doing and..."

"So... you followed me out here?"

"No, I was already here. I, uh, coach a team at the high school nearby."

My mouth drops, "You what?"

It's his turn to blush and he takes a swig of his beer. "I just needed to make ends meet and I saw Trixie's hiring poster at school, so I applied. I used to work as a barista in college."

"It's expensive to live here." I nod at him with understanding and remember the high school crowd that comes in every Friday. It makes sense. "Coach Kavinsky, huh?"

He laughs and I smile.

"Your turn. What are you doing in San Diego?"

I tuck my hair behind my ear and tell him about my graduate program. Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because the ice is really broken, but I start telling him about my life here. It just spills out of me, and he laughs and listens and asks questions, and it's like time paused and we're just talking in the diner back home over milkshakes and fries.

He tells me about Owen being at college, and we both cringe at the thought of our younger siblings growing up. He opens up about his lacrosse injury and why he started coaching, how he loves the job, and the kids. We laugh over my continued love for cheesy romance books, and order another plate of food. As we talk, my hand ghosts over where the necklace I stopped wearing would have been.

Soon, it's midnight and we head out to our cars. We're completely sober, at ease, and I've almost completely forgotten to be mad at Kitty.

He stands by my car and laughs. "It's just like you to be driving a Bug."

I roll my eyes, "You know me well."

For a moment, the air is still and I forget we're not seventeen anymore.

"So, friends?" he asks.

"Friends." My heart sinks before I realize it does. "Yes, of course. Friends."

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think/want to happen! I'm working on the next chapter and hope to have it out in the next couple of days.

-suivac