The blonde—still completely unaware of my existence—lets out a long sigh. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore, because as of today, I am on a dating ban.”
Her friend snorts. “A what?”
“A dating ban,” she repeats, more firmly this time. “Three months. No dates, no flings, no relationships, nothing.”
Christa cackles. “You? Not dating for three months? That’s like me giving up sarcasm—it’s physically impossible.”
“I can do it,” the blonde insists, sounding both defensive and deeply unconvinced.
“Sure,” her friend says. “And I can winThe Great British Bake Off.”
The blonde rolls her eyes. “Look, Pee-Pee says it’s a good idea—”Who or what is that Pee-Pee?
“Oh, well, if Pee-Pee says so, then obviously it’s the law.”
The blonde groans. “It’s not about the rule, it’s about… I don’t know. Me.” She gestures vaguely, as if that explains anything at all. “Figuring out what I actually like, who I am when I’m not trying to impress someone, you know?”
I am so focused on listening—so invested in whatever this dating ban nonsense is—that I absentmindedly shift a mug a little too hard, sending it skidding across the counter.
It clatters loudly, nearly tipping over.
Both women finally look up at me.
I freeze, cloth still in hand, caught like a deer in headlights.
The blonde’s eyes narrow slightly. “Were you listening to us?”
I clear my throat, wiping the counter one last time for dramatic effect. “No,” I lie. “Not at all.”
I regain my composure and straighten up, offering them my best customer service smile.
“Welcome to The Kaiser’s Mug,” I say, as if I haven’t just been caught listening in on their conversation. “If you take a seat, I’ll bring you the menu and—"
The blonde leans against the counter. “I’ll have aventi, soy, hazelnut latte with extra foam and half cold milk.”
I freeze unsure how to manage this situation diplomatically.
Jasper snorts quietly from his stool, no doubt waiting for my reaction.
I turn back to her, making sure I heard correctly. “You want a…venti, soy, hazelnut latte, extra foam, half cold milk?”
She nods, completely unbothered by the monstrosity she has just ordered.
I exhale slowly, running a hand over my jaw. “Right. So… we don’t do that.”
The blonde frowns. “What do you mean?”
I gesture vaguely to the café around us. “This is a Viennese coffeehouse. We don’t have syrups. Orventisizes. Or whatever that… situation was.”
Christa smirks. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
The blonde folds her arms. “So, what do you have?”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck before slipping back into my well-rehearsed, authentic Austrian experience mode. “I can make you aWiener Melange. It’s like a cappuccino but with a bit more milk and a fluffy, foamy top.”
She blinks. “That sounds… nice?”
“It is nice.”
