Gabriel breathed in deep and neared the counter.
The offerings were sparse. Gabriel couldn’t see any of the pastries he’d fantasised about
“What can I get you, love?” The red-haired woman walked past him and stepped in behind the counter.
Gabriel looked around, wondering who she was calling love, but she only kept looking at him. “Oh…erm…I’d like a caramel latte and a cinnamon roll, please.”
The green-clad man stopped talking and glared at him. Gabriel’s cheeks heated, and he started stuttering, “O-or a s-salad and a glass of water, please.” He wanted to run out of there, preferably before he was served a salad.
“Tom!” The good-looking man reached over the counter and gently pushed at the man who was still glaring at Gabriel, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. Gabriel wished the ground would open up before him.
“I can’t do a caramel latte, I’m afraid. Jason here—” she gave the now chuckling man a hard stare “—will make you a fake latte if you want?”