In the Lion's Teeth: Second Edition

Chapter Nine

If you're being honest with yourself, you're not really expecting Dona to be there when you get back. He'll have gotten bored waiting, or changed his mind, or maybe he's just heard the talk and wants to fuck with that weird guy all those rumors are about.

But he's still there when you get back, and when you walk up behind him, you glance over his shoulder to see that, yes, he was drawing, but it wasn't schematics or blueprints like you'd assumed. He's drawing the planter and everything in it, down to the smallest detail, to the brick shards from the broken bit on the left side as fine as sand.

"You're incredibly talented," you say softly. He slams the book closed and looks up at you. You take a step back.

"Sorry," you say. "Are the drawings a private thing?"

His shoulders relax and he chuckles a little. "No. You took me off guard. I must admit, I panicked a bit."

"Sorry," you repeat. And then, since you're terrible at nuanced conversation, you say, "So, coffee?"

"Yes," he grins. He stands, tucking his sketchpad under his arm and sliding his pencil behind his ear. "I'm not very familiar with the area yet. This is my first semester here."

"I know a nice place in walking distance," you offer, gesturing vaguely in its direction.

He gestures you forward with a wide sweep of his hand, and it's like something out of a movie, a gentleman leading his partner forward. You laugh and step forward, gesturing for him to follow you.

At first, the walk is quiet, just gentle footsteps and the occasional bird fluttering above or car driving by. He seems to be content with it, but you want to hear him talk, about himself, his art, the weather, anything, really. The way he talks is so fascinating, and you're not sure if it's because English is his second language or if he speaks like that in French, too.

Finally, you muster up the courage to ask, "So, you said this is your first semester?"

"Yes," he answers. "I arrived just before the winter break started to get my flat set up."

"So, which pre-reqs are you taking first? Just getting the boring ones out of the way, or ...?"

He shakes his head. "No, I've finished those. I'm starting my junior year."

"Really?" You can't hide the disbelief and shock in your voice, because nobody starts in their third year, or even their second semester. Not here. The courseload is too heavy, the classes too competitive. That doesn't happen. "How old are you?" you continue. Maybe he did them at another college?

"Eighteen," he says. He glances over at you with a small, almost self-assured smile, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. But, then, it is written on your face as visibly as black marker in all capital letters.

"No," you say. He laughs softly and nods.

"Yes," he answers. "I started school early when I was younger and skipped two years in England. It was horrible back then, because I was so much younger than all the other students, but now that I've gotten here, I feel it was worth the pressure."

Before you can formulate a response, you arrive at the coffee shop, and you open the door to let him in first. He smiles and nods his head, and you follow him inside.

It's much busier than the last time you were here, and there's only one table available, so Dona tells you to grab it and says he'll come back with the coffee. You start to dig out your wallet to pay for yours, but he holds up his hand and shakes his head.

"I'll pay," he says. "What would you like?"

"Just a large black-eye," you answer. "No sugar, no room."