When she was gone, Guinevere fell back onto her seat and took a deep breath. Her posture completely changed, and she placed her elbows on the table.
“Why were you so nervous?” I asked.
“I always get nervous around parents, or anyone over the age of 50, really. I don’t know, I always want them to like me.”
I fought back a laugh. “Why?”
“Do you want to be the person hated by old people?”
I wasn’t even sure what to say to that, other than, “You are an odd one, Guinevere Poe.”
“Please, just call me Gwen, and do you want this? I’m allergic to coffee.”
You’re what?
“Why did you take it?”
“Your mother bought it for me, so I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Guinevere, I’m sure if you told her you couldn’t have coffee, she wouldn’t have been offended. How bad of an allergy is it?”
“I just can’t digest it and drinking it gives me a small headache sometimes or my face swells. But it’s no big deal. And just Gwen.”
But it’s no big deal?
“No,” I said, leaving a bill on the table and throwing the coffee in the trash as she followed me onto the street, her heels clicking as she caught up to me.
“Why won’t you call me Gwen?”
“Three reasons,” I answered as I walked to the corner.
“Which are?”
“One: calling you Guinevere seems to seriously bother you.” I smirked.
She smacked my shoulder as we walked across when the light changed.
“Don’t you want to know the other two?”
“I already do. You're an ass, and you’re an ass.”
Ignoring her, I continued. “Second: calling you by a nickname would mean we have a closer relationship than we do. Third: if I did, you might just fall for me, and I wouldn’t want to break your heart.”
She paused once we reached the opposite sidewalk, looked me up and down, and laughed. “Ha! That would be the day.”
“What do you mean, ‘ha’?”
“I mean what it sounds like. I mean maybe, from a distance, if I squint and you aren’t speaking, you might look attractive. But other than that, I don’t see it.”
“Yes, because you are definitely a catch, especially with the drool pouring out of your mouth this morning.”
Her eyes widened. “I do not drool!”
“I was there, and you do. Even your dog didn’t have that much saliva coming out of his mouth.” It hadn’t been that bad, but seeing the horror creep onto her face was just so amusing. She was really easy to bother.
“You’re just a modern day Prince Charming, you know that?” she snapped.
“I get that a lot…” My voice drifted off when I saw her photo hanging in the gallery across the street. Guinevere Poe: Heroes, Rebels, and Thieves, read the sign under her name.