latte and found a corner table to review his options. The hustle and bustle of students coming and going appealed more than the thought of sitting in his empty apartment.
“Seriously, what is up with the suit?” Penny studied him with a perplexed frown. Dressed in a dark overcoat, a multi-colored knit hat, bright orange gloves and a pair of boots which matched her gloves, she was a splash of color against the walnut wood tones of the shop. Her cheeks were rosy and her lips faintly chapped.
Rising immediately at her presence, he paused and glanced down at his suit and tie. It was what he owned. Armand insisted on appearances, and his previous experience included mostly online classes. He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s appropriate attire for a business meeting.” What else did one call his meeting with Attila the Advisor?
“You’re in college, princeypoo, not at a fortune five hundred company. Hang on, I gotta get coffee. Or a caffeine drip. Or something.” Only then did he notice the shadows beneath her eyes her cosmetics didn’t quite disguise and redness in her eyes themselves.
“Allow me,” he offered, but she waved him back to his seat.
“I got this. I’ll be right back.” She made her way to the counter and placed her order. Once she returned with two cups in hand, he realized she’d purchased one for him, as well. George’s frown deepened. Penny dropped into the seat opposite him and he sat again.
“You should allow me to reimburse you.” He only had a couple of hundred dollars until the following week, but Armand would be timely in his allowance—that much George could be certain of.
“It’s a cup of coffee.” Penny took off her gloves. “You can buy next time, if you’re going to be difficult.” She took a long drink and closed her eyes. An expression of bliss washed over her face. “Oh my God, that’s good.”
Captivated by her obvious pleasure, he forgot to be polite and simply stared.
She wrapped her hands around her cup and sighed happily. “What?”
“Nothing.” Remembering his manners, he switched his attention to the brochures in front of him.
“More papers?” She plucked one from his stack and began to read it. “Oh, you need to choose a focus for your major. Should be easy enough.”
It hadn’t been, not in his experience so far. “Really?”
“Yeah, you pick the one that offers the classes you’re most interested in taking.”
Unless they didn’t offer a career path that benefited the Dagmar Corporation or measure up to the respectability standard demanded by his family name. “And if one doesn’t know what they’re interested in?”
She pursed her lips, expression thoughtful. “Well, that depends. Is it a case of you really don’t know what you’re interested in or are you interested in something that violates a protocol standard?”
Her insights didn’t cease to amaze him. Instead of offering him some vague comfort, she sliced right to the heart of the matter. “How do you do that?” Something in her manner invited him to be equally blunt. The lack of tact flew in the face of his upbringing, but Penny never seemed offended. If anything, her eyes lit up.
“One older sister. Four older brothers. Overprotective parents. If I don’t cut through the bullshit, I end up swimming around in cotton with no idea of what is up or down.” Rational and clear as mud . “Besides, you have this sort of lost puppy-dog look. It totally does it for me.”
Lost puppy? Uncertain of whether to be offended or amused, he favored the former. “I’m not a puppy.”
“Don’t take it badly, princeypoo. I like puppies.”
“My name isn’t princeypoo.” Why was she always laughing at him? Why did he actually enjoy the experience? She should always be happy. Something about her sparkle brightened the world around them.
“I know what your name is, but I’m not going to bend knee in a curtsey or call you your highness. I get there are rules and crap like that,
Learning to Kill: Stories