Go see Claire

You step outside into the Vienna afternoon, where you meet up with Claire again.

"Well? Verdict on the Lesecafé? Be honest. Was it deeply humiliating, or only mildly?"

"Surprisingly not humiliating at all. I'm as shocked as you are." You glance at her. "You abandoned me at the door, by the way."

"Strategically. I'm a very good wingwoman, I just work from a distance." She grins. "I also got talking, for the record. There was this old man in the armchair next to mine, absolutely lovely, ninety if he was a day. He'd been coming here for years, apparently, long before it turned into whatever this is. He spent half an hour telling me about the Vienna of his youth, and made me promise to try a particular Sachertorte place that he swears is better than the famous one."

"Did you promise?"

"Obviously. You don't refuse a promise to a man like that." She smiles, a little wistful, then nudges your arm. "Your turn. You said you got talking. To whom?"

You hesitate. It's a simple enough question, and yet you can feel your answer sitting awkwardly in your throat. "A young woman. We talked for a good while, actually. She was... interesting. Sharp. Not what I expected from an afternoon of sitting in an armchair pretending to read."

"Interesting," Claire repeats, tasting the word. "That's a very diplomatic way to put it."

"It's an accurate way to put it."

"Mm." There's a small pause, and you debate whether to stop there. Stopping there would be the safe choice. But it would also be a bit strange, given how easy this has felt with Claire lately, and the next part is the part you're actually apprehensive about. "She gave me her number, before she left."

You brace slightly, watching her out of the corner of your eye, half-expecting the temperature to drop, some flicker of coolness crossing her face. Roommates were allowed to be jealous of nothing, but you've seen how fast a good mood can sour over less. And, you had the feeling that Claire may potentially be more with you, then just roommates.

Instead, Claire's eyebrows shoot up, and she turns toward you, walking half-backwards, eyes bright with open, unguarded curiosity. "She gave you her number? John! That's a real result. That's practically a victory lap." She swats your arm. "Okay, I need details. What's she like? What did you talk about? Did you say something clever, or was it pure luck?"

Relief loosens something in your chest. You told Claire all you knew about the girl, how the conversation had started, what you'd talked about, the way the afternoon had slipped past without either of you checking the time; and Claire listened to every bit of it with her whole attention, asking exactly the right questions in exactly the right places, nodding along and laughing at the bits that deserved it, until the two of you had walked three entire blocks and you realized you'd long since run out of things to say.

"Well," Claire says, when you finally trail off, looking unmistakably pleased on your behalf, "she sounds fascinating. I'm genuinely happy for you, John. Truly. You should text her."

"Eventually. I don't want to look too eager."

"Eventually is acceptable. Tomorrow, at the latest." She says it with such cheerful authority that you laugh. The street opens onto a small square, golden with the lowering sun, café tables spilling out onto the cobblestones, and Claire slows a little, glancing sideways at you with an easy, curious smile.

"So. Now that your social calendar's apparently filling up, what are you doing this evening?"