Michaela
The café is surprisingly cosy to say that it"s a late-night one, but I like it. A server shows us to a booth at the back and I slide in, followed by Owen. It"s surprisingly intimate, but something feels comfortable about it.
"You need to place your order at the counter," the server says as she hands us a pair of menus.
"Thank you," I respond, taking mine and scanning down the list of desserts. Sure enough, there"s a section for lactose-free ones. "There"s a lot of choice," I say to him once she"s gone.
"Isn"t that what you want from a dessert café?"
"I don"t know, I haven"t been to one before," I admit. "But I like the look of it. What are you getting?"
"I"m not sure. You?"
"There"s a ginger and rhubarb ice cream that sounds divine," I say. "Is it boring to get just ice cre
