Andrew has been coming to my shop at 6:06 p.m. almost every week for the past three months.

It’s now 6:33.

Twenty-seven minutes past his usual time.

He’s often the only one that comes in on Tuesdays so the shop feels really empty right now. Cold, even. We’ve never really talked about anything personal and I wish he’d just say something, anything about himself. He dodges the small talk every single time.

I don’t understand it. It’s not like he’s rude or anything, no. He doesn’t ignore me, but other than the brief smile he flashes when he pays, our interactions are so distant.

Forget if he’s a cat person or a dog person: I don’t even know what he does for work. All I’ve learned is that he comes by after a day at the office—because if he’s wearing a pretty tie with a starched shirt, he probably works in a nice office—and that he’s a big fan of my knackutay.

Not gonna lie, I’ve been wondering what it’d be like to wrap my fingers around his tie and draw him in until we’re pressed up against each other, hearts racing and breaths mingling...

But I don’t know if he’d like that, either.

As I look absently around the room, my eyes land on the point of sale machine.

Okay, I know his last name, too. He’s never told me outright, but it’s on his credit card, so it shows up on the machine when he pays.

Oh, and he takes the bus. I’ve seen him checking his watch and rushing outside when he cuts it close.

Yeah, I’ve learned the bus schedule on my street. It’s entirely practical.

Right, and I know he’s cute. His hair is always ruffled just so, and I wanna stick my fingers into it. Smooth it out. Maybe grab a handful and tug a little, just to see how he responds.

Lick those lips to find out if he tastes as good as he looks.

I shake my head, disappointed that I’ve let myself get carried away again. I’ve gotten a little hard, but at least I’m behind the counter where nobody can see. Besides, it’s not like the two of us would ever happen. He won’t open up, and he’s probably not interested.

The street begins to darken outside. The seconds tick by, taunting me as I fidget with the strings on my apron. Is he not coming in today? I made him fresh links this afternoon, and it would have been nice if he called ahead. Maybe he had an emergency. I don’t know. It’s difficult not to worry when I have no idea what’s going on. Maybe I should call Charlotte, just to check in. She’d know, right?

I squeeze my eyes shut, silently chastising myself. That would definitely be an inappropriate use of customer contact information. He probably just had some kind of deadline at work or something.

Let it go, Maik.

I start wiping down the glass meat case to distract myself.

It’s almost closing time and he’s still not here. Why am I waiting for him? I’m being stupid. He doesn’t owe me anything.

He’s just the highlight of the week, that’s all.

A groan of annoyance rumbles through my chest.

Is my life so boring and sad that a broody, unresponsive, attractive customer is all I can look forward to?

My shoulders sag as reality sets in: My life revolves around this shop and I have no other hobbies right now. The Pinoy side of my family even calls me “Meat”. And the one non-meat interest I have, the guy I want to learn more about, is literally only here for the meat.

I sigh and head to the back to find something to do, anything to distract me from Andrew’s absence.

The fridge is in order, my invoices are organized, and shipments are on track to arrive on time. Everything’s already sorted back here.

I’m almost disappointed at myself for being responsible, because now my hands are idle. So I compulsively wash and dry my knives a few more times even though I always keep them clean and tidy.

Then again, maybe it’s better to keep it professional. I might do something stupid if we do cross that boundary.