Coffee And Vanilla Novels & Stories

"Mike, bring us some coffee. The caramel latte with extra foam and a dash of cinnamon for Miss Hale." "The exact same as always," Mike said, already turning to leave. Vanessa's smile softened into something almost genuine. "You remember exactly how I take my coffee. After all these years." "Some things you don't forget." "Like us?" "Like coffee orders." She laughed—a light, practiced sound—and reached for the food flask she had brought with her. It was a sleek, expensive thing, stainless steel with a bamboo lid, the kind sold in boutique kitchen stores for absurd prices.

I replied and he chuckled. “You like boring flavours I see” He pointed out and I gasped dramatically. “I'll have you know that Vanilla isn't boring, it's the OG. No other ice cream can top it” I told him and he scoffed. “I beg to differ. Chocolate ice cream is the best” He argued and I rolled my eyes. “Oh please. Even chocolate ice cream needs a little bit of vanilla in it sometimes” I retorted and he chuckled. “You're very passionate about ice cream i see” He pointed out and I shrugged.

He was fiddling with the gooseneck kettle with his head bowed. The sweet scent of vanilla slowly unfurled, seeping into every crevice of our marital home. It was a scent that didn't belong to me—or to us. Lionel carried the cup over and placed it beside my hand. There was a trace of barely perceptible nervousness in his eyes. "Here, give it a try." I took a sip. It was sweet, mellow, and just a tad creamy—nothing like the long black we usually drank. I looked up at him and asked, "Since when do you like vanilla?"

He pouted and crossed his arms on his chest. "Gosh, you look so cute like that." She complimented him and poked his cheek. "I'm not cute I'm handsome." He said winking at her. "Yeah right." She rolled her eyes and walked fast forward. They get inside of a cafe, they went in front of the counter to order some coffee. "Hey welcome, what can I do for you?" A young man said nicely to them. "I want a vanilla cappuccino." Mia said after looking at the menu.

Alex replied and ran towards the kids. I went to the small shop opposite the road and ordered Alex's vanilla shake and my Cappuccino. "One Cappuccino and a vanilla shake right up," the young lad said beaming at me. I paid the bill and made my way back to the park, holding the coffee in one hand and vanilla shake in another. I and Alex are happy here, may be not the best, but it's a peaceful life.

Chapter Twenty-Three “Yes to both. Just a splash of creamer, though.” I nodded, grabbing the silver sugar jar and opening it up. Scoping out some of the white crystals, I dumped them into the cup before stirring it with the spoon. I put the lid back onto the canister and pushed it back into place. Turning towards the fridge, I opened the door and grabbed the bottle of French vanilla creamer. Opening it, I added some to her coffee. Watching the pale color bloom across the dark surface before I took it over to my mate.

Vanilla chuckled hearing Nick's statement, for two weeks every day the man had come to her restaurant kitchen after work to taste the coffee and other drinks she had concocted, also to taste the dishes that would be on the menu at her restaurant later. Nick liked all the food that Vanilla made, it was not at all made up because in fact the girl's skill in cooking and processing coffee was indeed worthy of appreciation and for some time now, the moment of drinking afternoon coffee in the kitchen with Vanilla had become the thing that Nick had been waiting for the most.

“That is blasphemy, I presume?” “It is!” She mixes what’s in the bowl with gentle, graceful movements. “What’s there to hate about vanilla? It is peaceful and delicious and smells good.” “It is also boring.” Her head shoots up and her chin trembles the slightest bit. When she speaks, her voice sounds clogged like when someone is about to cry. “You think vanilla is boring?” “Sometimes.” “But why? There are a lot of things you can add vanilla to, like shampoos and shower gels and essential oils and…and… all the cakes and milkshakes and ice cream.”

I was going to make the coffees, but Sandra politely shooed me away from the coffee counter. “Do you know what kind of coffee you sister and you would like? Sandra can make specialty coffee or regular.” Her eyes lit up when I mentioned specialty coffee. All of the important people here were coffee addicts, so we made sure to get the perfect setup in place to fulfill all of our addiction needs. “Is it possible to get iced coffee?” she asked Sandra, who nodded. “Wonderful! She loves vanilla or caramel iced coffee. I prefer vanilla or hazelnut if possible.”

Aryan watched her nervously, hoping against hope that the coffee was perfect. Kiara pulled the cup away from her lips. Her expression darkened instantly. "I asked for exactly two pumps of vanilla," she said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy tone. "I-I told the barista exactly that," Aryan stammered, his heart sinking. "This tastes like three. It's overly sweet and entirely unpalatable," Kiara said. Without a second of hesitation, she held the cup over the expensive metallic trash bin beside her desk and let it go.