When Ed sees me walking into the café, he lets out a loud wolf whistle. 'I'm charging three pounds for them,' he says, referring to the pink macaroons I'm holding on a plate.
'They're not worth that,' I say.
Ed just shakes his head. 'People are going to pay three pounds, just you watch. They're every basic girl's Instagram dreams come true.'
I don't tell him that I took a photo of them and have already put it on my Instagram.
'You've got talent, Jane. Where did you learn to bake?'
'I watch a lot of Great British Bake Off,' I say, half-jokingly. It's easier than starting a conversation about my mother.
Will has been experimenting with cold drip coffee. Ed and I have been the unfortunate test subjects of this morning's brew, which tastes overly woody and earthy. He pours the rest of it down the sink and makes us each an espresso so we'll forgive him. I add a dash of vanilla syrup to my coffee, and then try to pour the milk over it to create a latte. It's not quite right, but at least it gets rid of the taste of Will's potent brew.
He has a beautiful book on cold drip brewing. He drinks his espresso and flicks through the book, reading a few of the paragraphs aloud to Ed and me, and sighing over pictures of coffee drippers as if they're works of art.
We look up as the bell rings and a group of women come in out of the rain, pulling off damp woollen coats and hats. They drag armchairs around a table, and order tea and coffee. Then one of the ladies spots my macaroons.
'Ooh, and four of those, please,' she says.
I ring up their total while Ed makes the coffees I take a big pot of black tea and two of Charlotte's prettiest teacups over first. Then a cappuccino and a flat white. When I bring over the macaroons, a few of the ladies gasp in delight.
I'm grinning when I return to the counter.
'I told you people would buy them,' Ed says, and he resumes his whistling, significantly cheerier.
I'm still trying to pour milk over espresso to make the ferns that Will makes, but I'm failing miserably.
'Charlotte's the best at latte art, actually,' Will says, when I show him another failed blob of milk. 'You should get her to teach you. She can do roses and everything.'
'I don't think Charlotte likes me,' I tell him quietly.
'Don't worry about her,' Will says. 'We're all really happy you're here.'
I jiggle the silver milk jug over the coffee cup, trying to make a neat squiggle.
'You just need to keep practising the angle,' Will says when he sees my failed attempt. I notice for the first time his shirt says, "Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin' with no makeup on", and I'm about to ask about it when Harper swings into the coffee shop. His denim jacket is spattered with rain. He shakes his head, ridding his hair of a few droplets, and then swipes a brownie from the counter in a swift movement that both Will and I can't stop. He sends me a cheeky, brownie-toothed grin.
'How's the coffee coming along, Jane?' Harper says, once he's swallowed his mouthful of brownie. Without waiting for my answer, he takes the paper cup out of my hand and looks at my failed latte art.
'Well, you're improving,' he says sardonically. He takes a swig of my coffee and wrinkles his nose, then winks at me.
'Hey,' I say. 'Ed says I'm doing fine.'
Harper shoots a smile over my shoulder at Ed. I turn around to see his expression, but he's facing the coffee machine. I frown.
'Now, don't look upset,' Harper says. 'In fact, I've got something for you.'
I raise my eyebrows, intrigued.
Harper pulls a piece of white card from his back pocket and hands it to me. 'One ticket to live comedy in Camden tonight. It cost me a fiver, so you owe me a drink.'
'Oh, sure,' I say, grinning down at the ticket.
'I'm kidding,' Harper says. 'You don't owe me anything. Charlotte should have gotten you a ticket.'
'I still wouldn't mind getting you a drink,' I say cheekily, and Harper laughs.
'Let's see what happens tonight,' he says, smirking.
'Right, Ed, Will, I'm heading to Tesco. You guys need anything?'
'Nah,' Will says, not looking up from his book on cold drip.
'Sweet, adiós,' Harper says, and grins at me before heading back out of the coffee shop and onto the high street.
'Bin bags,' Will says suddenly, looking up. 'We need bin bags.'
'He's gone,' I say.
'Urgh,' Will says. 'I don't have my phone on me. Jane, can you text him and ask him to get bin bags?'
'I don't have his number,' I tell Will.
Will rolls his eyes. 'Haven't even gotten his number, yet? Girl, I thought you were making moves.'
I laugh. 'No way.'
'Ed?' Will says.
Ed responds by holding up his phone to indicate he's already texting Harper.
• Author's Note •
Hello, loves! Elle here. Thanks for reading this chapter. I hope you're enjoying getting to know the whole Brew Books fam.
Question for you...
What's better, ice coffee or hot coffee?
p.s. Don't forget to vote!
elle xx