New Amsterdam: Tess by Ashley Pullo

day when Meg approached their table and said, “Hi, did you receive my email?”
    Caught off-guard by Meg’s simplistic beauty, Seth muttered, “What?”
    “Meghan Fitzpatrick?” Thessaly asked, looking up from her phone and the dozens of social media notifications.
    Meg nodded, pulled out a chair, and joined her new co-workers.
    Seth, still unaware of what was going on asked, “What’s going on?”
    Smiling, Thessaly announced, “Meghan, welcome to your first business meeting!”
    Working for The Hive has afforded Meg with great friends, a new studio apartment, and a potential romance with a stable and doting graphic designer. It’s everything the sarcastic rich girl from the Upper East Side ever wanted – plus all the honey and jam she can physically eat. And just like Seth, in three months, she will own one and a half percent of The Hive as a token of her loyal service.
    Leaving her building, Meg places earbuds in her ears and begins a brisk walk. It normally takes her fifteen minutes, but today, eager to be the first to arrive at The Hive, she books it down John Street like a woman being chased. She passes the Beanery, the storefront with the mermaid mannequins, the fresh vegetable stand at the market, and then darts the last block to Fulton.
    Outside The Hive, Meg unlocks the door while glancing at Seth’s bike leaning against the window.
    Could he be the right guy?
    Once inside the shop, Meg switches on the chandelier and props open the screen door.
    “Meg?” Thessaly squeals.
    Losing her footing and catching her fall on the screen door, Meg replies, “Oh, shit, Tess. You scared the crap out of me. Why are you sitting in the dark?”
    Thessaly, sitting at the island with her phone and a pile of Starburst wrappers, pats the stool next to her. “I needed to think, and the sunrise is really amazing from this spot. Here, come sit with me.”
    Removing her earbuds and shoving them in her small bag, she sits down across from Thessaly. “What’s up?”
    “I need to talk about what happened last night before Seth gets here.”
    Flinching slightly at the mention of his name, Meg rambles, “Oh, Seth’s okay, Tess. I mean he’s acceptable. He’s somewhat funny and adequately smart. Last night we just had way too much to drink.”
    Confused by Meg’s sudden admission, Thessaly scrunches her nose and asks, “Huh?”
    “What?” Meg blushes.
    But before Meg can divert the conversation, Seth bursts through the door of The Hive with a Starbucks tray. “Ladies, what’s the topic of chit-chat?” he announces with a cocky smile.
    “I’m not sure,” Thessaly replies, analyzing Meg’s body language.
    “Nothing!” Meg lowers her head and pretends to scroll through her phone.
    Seth places the drink tray on the counter and removes Meg’s iced coffee. Setting it in front of her and gently brushing her bare shoulder, he whispers, “Creamy – just the way you like it.”
    Meg squirms under his touch and laughs nervously. “Ha, um, yeah.”
    Taking her iced latte from the tray and wiping the condensation with a napkin, Thessaly shakes her head. “Can you two just do it already?”
    Seth glances at Meg’s tense shoulders and red cheeks. “I wish, Tess. Meg’s way too good for a guy like me. And I’m completely content knowing I get to see her pretty face at work every day. And on the rare occasion, I get to make her laugh.”
    Meg, head lowered, smiles from ear-to-ear. “What did you want to talk about, Tess?” Meg’s voice cracks as she raises her head.
    “Oh, God, it’s really silly and insignificant, but I saw Mason last night – at my apartment.”
    “You let him come to your apartment?” Seth confirms, pulling up a stool next to Meg.
    “Yep, for a booty call.”
    “Wait, did you just say booty call ?” asks Meg.
    Smiling, Thessaly teases, “And what do the hip kids of the Village call it these days?”
    “Personally, I find that hooking up is vague yet classy,” Seth interjects, secretly