“It’s that short?” I ask, surprised.

“Yeah, just the two weeks.”

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of summer?”

“Lounge on the beach.” London grins. “Hook up with a hot lifeguard. Eat ice cream. Who knows?”

I snort. “Sounds lovely.”

“What are you doing after Scholenberg? It’s what—six weeks?”

“Eight. I’ll head back to Lancaster to start training for preseason as soon as it ends.”

London shakes her head. “I don’t know how you do it. My teammates think my training is crazy.”

I shrug as I plop the onesie on the checkout counter and dig some euros from my pocket. “If you’re doing the same as everyone else, you’re not going to be the best.”

“That’s a better t-shirt slogan than Life is Brewtiful,” Natalie comments to my right.

I smirk as I pay for the onesie. “I’ll tell Nike when I sign my endorsement deal.”

We exit the store and continue down the street. The beer garden Ellie recommended is supposedly only a couple blocks farther, and the first hint that we’re drawing near is the sudden change in our surroundings. Dense greenery appears on the right rather than more storefronts. There’s a wrought iron archway halfway down the block and a wooden sign affixed to the center carved with a few German words. The last one says Biergarten, which I take as an encouraging sign we’ve navigated the city correctly. Then again, I’m pretty sure Kluvberg has more than just the one beer garden.

I lead the way down a stone pathway that cuts through the foliage. We emerge onto a wooden terrace. Verdure is draped over and twisting through it, sheltering the picnic tables below and dripping down the sides in tendrils of leaves. A wooden hut is situated to the left, with a line of customers waiting to place their orders snaking around the side. Others are already enjoying refreshments at the tables, dipping pretzels in an array of mustards and drinking beer.

It takes me a moment to realize, but the beer garden also overlooks most of Kluvberg. We’re in a newer part of the city, one that’s on higher ground, evidently. I can see the canal in the distance. The steeples of the cathedral. And the stadium, of course.

“You guys grab a table. I’ll get in line,” I offer.

“I’ll come with you,” Natalie says. “Text me your orders, ladies.”

Our group splits. Natalie and I join the end of the line, and thankfully, it’s moving pretty fast. We’re close enough to see the menu within minutes, and I realize there’s a lot more than just beer and pretzels being offered.