He was so grateful in that moment that he’d had brothers. Teenage girls were hard to handle, hard to deal with when their moods shifted faster than the weather. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. And I’ll live. Seriously no permanent damage.” Tristan felt a little cleaner and the barista had pushed three new drinks towards them, apologetic smile on her face. It wasn’t like she had thrown the drink on him. She’d only made it. TJ put another dollar in the tip jar.
“What’s mille-feuille?” Tristan knew it sounded like a dessert and he was interested in learning more of those. He tilted his head as she mentioned more about the dessert and he knew it would be the first thing he asked someone to look up for him. He certainly wasn’t touching a computer. It would likely start smoking or something on him. Or he’d head to the library tomorrow, check out some French cookbooks.