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What he really, really wanted was a hazelnut soy latte. But commercial stores didn't carry organic flavour syrups. If he was going to get back into practice and back on a ...well, more strict of a diet than he was currently following for the school year, he'd have to forgo the extra sweeteners and chemicals that flavour shots afforded. Really caffeine wasn't at the top of the approved list, but he was feeling a little more tired today than usual with having moved all the boxes and furniture for his mother into her new place.

Just a plain latte, then, using soy milk. But what size?

He grabbed the handle of the right door, noting only that someone was exiting out the one that would be on his left (their right). He swung it open, turning his shoulders a little to try to leave room (not enough!) for another person passing out, but-

He immediately crouched, letting the door he'd opened rest against his hip and holding the other open and from bopping into the poor girl with a hand.

"Miss! I am so sorry! It is a fault of mine, I should have been more careful. Your clothes..." He used his one free hand to turn up the dumping drink. It would be no good for drinking probably, but at least half wouldn't be soaking into her on the ground.

"May I help you up? The coffee...it is everywhere. They will have napkins inside. I can buy you another.." He offered his hand down, still holding the doors open.

His brow was furrowed, concern honest and plain as summer rain, "but...your shirt and pants. I do not know. Maybe a hand dryer in the ladies room after a rinse."

At first he thought her anger must be catching her tongue, especially given what words had managed to make it out. Better not to hear the rest, and keep the air clean?

But when she finally looked up, and stopped his mouth with a single gesture, he reconsidered. Here was something more of a wildfire, easy to switch paths and make the firemen have to panic and chase. He gave a relieved nod, and this time held the door for her.

If she had made up her mind not to be angry...and...a very forward acceptance of apology, then he would not pass up the opportunity in letting her proceed him to the counter to check out the look of those black jeans. Reaching the counter himself, "Whatever she would like, the order is together."


He waited until after she was done before approaching conversation as her drink was put together. "It is lucky for me you are not too pressed for time. Is your phone alright? I promise I'm not in the habit of throwing glass walls into others. I'm actually quite tame."

If he could earn a laugh, then all would be looking up and in the clear. She had such striking eyes, like how lacquered flowers burned with false light on olive-painted wood. "Most of the time, anyway. I'm Björn."

He took her hand with practiced caution; a firm handshake for business deals was superb, but if you caused pain it was a sign of lack of control. He didn't mind showing the same respect in shaking a woman's hand equal as a man's.

"You have a beautiful laugh, " He smiled. "There is a lot of music in it."

"I read in the news that a lot of states were considering formally outlawing texting while driving. Even I can figure out why that would be dangerous. Maybe they should consider it for sidewalks too, with trucks like me around."

He retrieved her drink from the finished stand and offered it too her while he put a few dollars into the tip jar. His own was only a moment after. "Truly though, are you busy? It would be sad not earn a few more laughs." He motioned towards the sitting area, more specifically the plush sofa and adjacent lounge chairs instead of the cafe tables and seats. Those flimsy things would do him no favors. Well, falling on his butt on the floor on a bent chair might earn laughs. Still, he'd rather not.

"Are you local? I just moved to town, myself."

"From the Tri-state area, called North Hills." He took the lounge chair that faced the sofa, scooting it forward with a push from his foot so that it was closer to conversational distance. "But I've been lucky to spend summers with my family in Norway and Sweden."

It was an explanation he was used to giving, accounting to teachers why his language arts skills were abysmal. Or would that make it an excuse, since it was meant as a front to avoid paying more effort? Probably the latter.

"If you ever get a chance, you should tour Stockholm sometime. Have you been overseas? You have the composure of a traveler."

She really was rolling with the flow well. "I've been trying to get the flow of life here, how people act, where they go...what they value. It isn't an easy city to learn. It's pretty diverse."

He smiled, " My mother was born overseas. Much of my family knows English, but when we are together, I only speak Norsk and Svenska. It has hurt my English. "

He admitted the last with no shame. It was work speaking, reading, and writing in three languages. He would like to see other high school students claim as much when they had the brain of a potato like he did.

"Oh, it is pretty. Many parks, lovely architecture. Every corner, curve and edge fair like statues. Like paintings hung in museum halls. " he gave a slow, slight dip of his head in a gesture like reverence, closing his eyes during it with deliberate purpose. One given a fair maiden by passing admirer in days long passed.

"I'm soon to move into the dorms of my new school. It has a bit of a reputation. I do too, now, so maybe it and I fit each other. Hillworth Grammar School. It looks harsh from the outside, maybe like Soviets inside? "

"Are you enrolled in one of the schools here? One of the Universities? " He couldn't exactly tell, since she looked young, and was small. Everyone was small. But it was good to err always on the young side, and make a question a compliment of how a woman was fresh faced. Also, honor their intelligence.

"Trondheim, in Norway."

He shook his head gently at her panic, "I look older, but I am only 16. I'm enrolling as a junior this semester. It's supposed to be very structured, and have a pretty harsh academics course...good for getting boys in line."

He lifted his palm up as if a shrug, "We'll see how it goes, right? Crystal Academy...it is a girl's school?"

That was about the extent of his knowledge on it. The name had come up in his mother's search for schools, and that was the reason that took it out of consideration.

"Do you like it there? I don't know much about it's reputation or programs."

Her fumbling about his appearance was sweet and endearing. If she had a boyfriend, he felt sorry for the poor guy now. Expectations on his level of fitness may have just increased. Maybe that was a good thing. Magazines were always saying how women had a lot of expectations placed on them about appearances. Why not men too? At least it would mean that looking around would be a lot less unpleasant and one-sided.

The tone behind the apologies, and the lack of actual wording was more expressive than the turn of phrase 'quite a few problems.' What would she have said if she weren't being polite? He couldn't guess at it, but the dislike was plain enough. But he wasn't sure how being public or private would affect whether a school was any good or not. And if girls there were stuck up, what was so great about it? Did they have very good academics? What about sports? She didn't go into how the two were unalike, leaving a vague....but very polite conversation trail. It turned back to herself, and whether she was stuck up or not, bringing him out of his considerations, "You haven't said anything stuck up. Saying the truth about something isn't a bad thing to me. It is school that takes boys with records, so they must have their share of problems. "

"Are there many ...clubs at Crystal? Most schools only have sports, but maybe if it is private you get better options....like painting and art clubs, or a theater club separate from a choral program? Are you part of any extra studies? A girl who texts so much and keeps up with communication would be a big asset to a lot of activities." His old school had put on school musicals, but they were always part of the choral program, not a thing in their own right. He wasn't sure what expensive activities a lot of money would allow for students. Paints were about the most expensive thing he could come up with. What else did people do for hobbies? Ride horses? But he'd never heard of horse clubs in a school, or of what one did with horses other than get on their backs, so it was a mystery and seemed implausible. Besides, here was an expert on the subject of what went on at private schools and what they did with their time. Right from the horse's mouth! Well...but she was prettier than a horse and he would never, ever call a girl that.