Sometimes Caleb forgets how young Beau really is.
She holds herself like a woman wise in the world, her chin high and her shoulders square. She speaks like she’s seen it all, like nothing can surprise her at this point.
Sometimes Caleb forgets that it’s an act.
“How old are you?” he asked. “Really?”
“Rude.” Beau kicked him in the side but she was smirking in amusement. “Why do you ask?”
“You told Waccoh 24 and you told Halas 26.”
“Oh, that.” She shrugged and looked back at the book open in her lap. “I lied to Halas, I’m 24.”
“I lie about everything.”
“Yes, but-” he sighed and her smirk twisted up higher. She was messing with him.
“I don’t know,” she said, shrugging again. “Nott had insinuated to him that I was the leader, I thought he’d take me more seriously if I was older.”
Caleb blinked at her in confusion. “And you went with 26 instead of 24?”
“Yeah. Why, was that weird? Should I have gone older? 29?”
“Hold on.” He cleared his throat and turned entirely on the couch to look at her. “You think… that 26 sounds significantly more serious and worthy of leadership than 24?”
“I… Yeah. Why the fuck are you looking at me like I’m a sad cat in the rain, stop that.”
“Mein gott, you are so young.”
She sneered and kicked him again, harder than before. “Fuck you. Read your fucking book, old man. Don’t fucking patronize me!”
Caleb bit his lip to keep from chuckling out loud and just turned back to his book. Beau muttered angrily to herself but went back to hers as well.
