Go in the bar, see if you can chat up Tiffany again

You follow the group into the bar, where you spot a familiar tangle of blond curls through the window, laughing at something, surrounded by a loose cluster of other students who all have the slightly shell-shocked look of people who arrived in this city within the last week.

She spots you before you've even fully crossed the room, face lighting up immediately. "John! Oh my god, you actually came." She waves you over with enough enthusiasm that a couple of heads turn to see who warrants it. "Everyone, this is John — the guy I told you about, from the bakery this morning. Absolute hero. Saved me from a very confusing tea-based standoff."

The group offers a round of friendly, mildly curious hellos, someone sliding down the bench to make room for you beside her.

"You're still telling that story?"

"It's a good story! You deserve the credit." She grins, sliding a spare glass toward you. "Sit, sit. I already told them you're basically my translator now, unofficially, so you're contractually obligated to stay."

"I don't remember signing anything."

"Verbal contract. Binding in several countries, I'm sure." She settles back in against your side without any particular ceremony, like it's already familiar territory, and it's easy enough to fall into the rhythm of the group from there. Someone asking where you're from, someone else trading horror stories about Viennese bureaucracy that make Tiffany groan in solidarity, the whole table dissolving into loose, easy conversation with you comfortably folded into the middle of it.

The evening moves easily after that, drinks arrive, then more drinks, the conversation around you rising and falling in waves as people peel off to the bar or the bathroom or another table entirely, until at some point, without either of you quite orchestrating it, the group has thinned to background noise and it's mostly just: you, Tiffany, and one of the international Students called David, who has been staring at Tiffany's cleavage the entire night.

While Tiffany takes a quick bathroom break, you are alone with David, and take him aside. "Hey, David. I know what you have planned. She is not going to say yes. She is not interested in you." David seems to get angry "What are you saying? Obvisouly she wants something to happen tonight. Just look at the way she is dressed. Those Americans, they always want it. Besides, that stupid blond is clearly easy and ran-through. Why should she be not be interested in me? My skin colour? What are you saying?" You lower your voice, shake your head, and reply as you see Tiffany come back "Don't say i didn't warn you."

"So, Tiffany" he says, a bit more loudly then he has to. "If you want to come back to my apartment tonight, we'd better go now, before we are both too drunk to find the way there." She seems offended. "Daniel, what makes you think i want to go to your apartment?" she asks. "Well, you do want someone, otherwise you wouldn't be dressed like that. And you have been smiling at me all evening, and i know how you western girls are. I have seen a movie before." Tiffany seems shocked and outraged. "David, i didn't dress like this for you. I didn't even know you this morning. And even if, you are not entitled to me. I can make my own choices, and honestly, i'd rather go to John's apartment then yours. At least he has looked me in the eyes today at some point, unlike you. Now, kindly, fuck off."

Daniel seems outraged, and humiliated. He leaves the bar, after giving you a dirty look. Now it's just you and Tiffany. "Well, that was a bummer." you try to lighten the mood. "That guy has never seen a blond woman outside of porn." Tiffany mutters. "That's a night ruined. Now, please keep me company for a bit John, i need to get those feelings out of my system."

You chat for another half an hour, meanwhile, your knees are touching under the low table, her laughing at something you said with her hand briefly resting on your arm before she seems to notice and doesn't quite move it away.

"Okay," she says, leaning in slightly over her glass, "Confession time. I like you, John. I was serious when i said i'd rather go to your place then to David's. And honestly, i was thinking of hooking up with someone when i got out of bed this morning. But David. And i thought if i let him down harshly, that would teach him a lesson in respect. But i do like the attention. And i have certainly noticed where you have been looking all day. And i certainly enjoyed that."

She holds your gaze a beat longer than the conversation strictly requires, something warm and a little daring in it, the noise of the bar blurring pleasantly at the edges around the two of you. She leans in, and you can't help staring down her cleavge. Her tits are huge. Not wanting to remind her of David, you find yourself just looking at her for a moment, the curl of her smile, the way the low light catches gold in her hair, the small, unhurried space between you that feels like it's asking a question neither of you has said out loud yet. Trying to decide what, exactly, you want to do about it.

"You're cute, John. I like you. But it's getting late, and i don't want to go back into the hostel after one in the morning."

You exchange numbers, and move to leave the bar. You almost regrett not being harsher with David. If he hasn't made a move, you might have just been abled to get more familiar with those marvelous tits.