Page 11 of Prince Material
“Yes, sir.” I threw him a mock salute and headed for the door, then paused. “Hey, want to grab coffee later? That place you mentioned, Acoustic Java?”
The question surprised both of us, I think. I hadn’t planned to ask, but something about our conversation about water management and his reaction to Katrina made me want to know more. Plus, he actually seemed interested in engineering beyond passing classes, which was refreshing.
Orson hesitated, his expression doing that thing where he seemed to be calculating all possible outcomes before making a decision. “I have a study group at four.”
“Before, then? Come on, you can explain more about American water management systems to me. I’ll even buy you one of those fancy drinks with too many words in the name.”
“I have to study.”
“You always have to study.” The words came out before Icould stop them. “I mean, everyone needs breaks, right? Even engineering students.”
Orson sighed, looking away. “Maybe. It depends on how much progress I’ve made by then.”
That wasn’t a no, and I clung to that hope. “Awesome, see you then.”
I rushed out the door, speed-walking across campus. The late-August sun was already blazing, promising another day of sticky heat. Students sprawled on the grass, enjoying the last days of summer, while others hurried to class like me.
I couldn’t help smiling, despite being late and probably looking like I’d been dragged backward through a hedge. This was exactly what I’d wanted: to be another student rushing to class, no press following my every move. Just me, my wrinkled shirt—I really should’ve hung up that laundry—and the promise of caffeine after class.
Though I could probably use some help with the organization thing. Maybe Orson would teach me his ways if I bribed him with more Dutch snacks…
My mind wandered back to Orson’s reaction to my messy habits. He wasn’t wrong; I was a tornado in human form compared to his meticulous organization. But there was something endearing about how he pretended to be annoyed while still bringing up my laundry, getting me coffee, and reminding me about class times.
My phone buzzed as I slid into my seat in the lecture hall, barely making it before class started. A message from Greg lit up my screen:
Greg
Survived peasant life so far? Or has the lack of servants broken you?
I snorted, earning a few looks from nearby students.
Me
Still alive. Though American plumbing is trying to kill me. Also, did you know they start class at 8 AM? That has to violate some human rights convention.
Greg
The horror. Shall I send a diplomatic rescue mission?
Me
Nah, I’m good. Actually enjoying being normal for once. Though my roommate probably thinks I’m a disaster.
Greg
But is he wrong?
Me
Rude. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.
I paused, thinking of the chaos currently occupying my side of the room, then added:
Me
Mostly.
Greg
