"Olivia, may I ask you something?"

"Yes, of course."

We sat in the same corner of the same coffee shop we had first met in. Newspaper clippings listing various job offers at various defense agencies were scattered across the table, the occasional scribble in red pen around a job advertisement. It had been a week since our encounter in the park, and I had insisted that she call me Gregory; in return, she insisted that I call her Olivia. A mutual trade. A business agreement. Her dark hair was tied up that day, a pencil stuck behind her right ear.

I sighed. "You are a college student, right? Don't you have work of your own?"

"Oh, yes," she replied nonchalantly, her eyes glued to a particular scrap of paper. "But I'm at the top of my class; I practically teach it."

"…" If you practically teach it, doesn't that mean you should still be attending class? "But still," I continued, "I must admit, I'm still rather perplexed as to why you would help me."

She turned her eyes away from the paper, fixing them on my face. "I thought that was already made clear—I am helping you find a job."

"I-it's just…" I smiled sheepishly. "I never thought that people these days would take the time to help strangers. I mean," I returned her gaze. "You really don't know me that well." In spite of my confusion, I grinned. "What makes you so persistent?"

"…Do you not want my help?" She sounded offended. After about five minutes of trying to insist that I was truly grateful, which I was, she finally gave me a response. "You want to know why I'm helping you, Gregory?" Intertwining her fingers in a very businesslike manner, she told me, "It's because I can tell that you are an honest person."

"But how—"

"Let me finish," she said coolly, with just a trace of a smile. "I have studied people my entire life. This is part of the reason why I'm a Psychology major at the University. However, out of all of the people I have met during my time here," she paused, leaning forward intently. A stray lock of hair came undone from her ponytail, falling just next to her left eye. Her gaze, however, remained firm. "You have been the only truly honest one I have met."

The impact of her words made me fall silent, both pleasantly surprised and terribly puzzled. If I'm the only "honest" person she's ever met…What must her home life have been like? Where did she live? What sort of relationship did she have with her parents? Is that why she's so terribly cold? Question after question poured through my mind, so quickly and loudly that I barely heard what she said next, something along the lines of "It's easy to spot out an honest man from a crowd of dishonest one…It's in their eyes."

Somehow, Olivia always managed to say the things that I could never hope of responding to.

There was silence, though she simply continued searching through the stack of job search papers. I wondered if it ever occurred to her that what she had told me had been flattering, or perhaps it was just her blunt opinion. Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I couldn't help but think about what she thought of me. If she is that apt, what's to say that she hasn't made any other judgments about me? At long last, she spoke again.

"Gregory."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever heard of Grossberg & Co. Law Offices?"

I frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar; they weren't my first choice, but I was willing to take any opportunity I could get. "Are they hiring?"

"Yes," said Olivia, tucking that stray strand of hair back behind her ear while simultaneously taking the pencil from the other one. She underlined and circled a few words and handed the paper to me. "I think, if you are willing to work for these wages, you have a good chance of getting this job." Sliding the paper across the table, she continued, "Is this satisfactory?"

I scanned the information; the wages weren't bad, but they weren't fantastic, either. But since I was quickly running out of money, I was willing to take anything. "Yes," I nodded. "Thank you." For so many things.

-.-.-

"Gregory?"

"Yes?"

"If you keep pacing, you'll wear a hole in the carpet."

It was true. As we waited for Marvin Grossberg's office to open—my interview was the first of the day—I had been anxiously walking back and forth in the hallway outside. It didn't help that Olivia had joined me; she only made me more nervous. She had prepped me with various sample interview questions and insisted that I plan out what to wear almost a week in advance. I wore my only suit, much to her dismay—she frowned upon its slightly frayed edges.

I stopped walking, standing in front of her. Olivia, too, had dressed for the occasion, though I felt as though she looked like the one who should be interviewed rather than me. Her thin body was clothed in a navy blue business suit, giving her the appearance of a company executive. How is it possible that one so young could look so…authoritative? Professional? I tried searching for the right word.

"Excuse me?" A thick voice from behind my shoulder startled me so much that I literally jumped in surprise. Slightly shaken, I slowly turned around. "Y-yes?" A squat middle-aged woman frowned up at him behind rhinestone-splattered spectacles. "Are you here for the interview?"

I looked at Olivia, who nodded avidly. "Go on," she mouthed. "Y-yes, I am."

The woman continued to frown, but said, "You've got the job. Congratulations" in a flat monotone.

That answer was too simple for me. "I thought I had to be interviewed," I insisted. "Don't you need to ask me anything?"

"You're the first person who's responded to an ad in months." She moved to unlock the door. "Mr. Grossberg doesn't need to see you. Your résumé was impressive enough."

The tone of her voice told me that she wanted me to go away, so I nodded. "Thank you very much. When do I—"

"Start? Tomorrow, 7:30 AM."

"I see. Again," I turned to leave, "Er…Thank you."

-.-.-

Olivia followed me out of the building, perfectly in sync with my own pace. "Gregory?"

"Yes?"

"You look confused. Why is that?"

"Hm?" I tried to make my expression a bit more positive, but it was already too late. She was insisting that I tell her what was wrong.

Shortening my steps, I quietly murmured, "It was just too easy."

Olivia frowned. "You mean that they didn't set up any hoops for you to jump through?" She folded her arms. "If you ask me, interviews are silly. A person's résumé should speak for itself."

"Well, there are some things that an employer can't get from words written on paper," I gently explained. "Like enthusiasm, or social skills."

"I suppose you're right," she admitted, "but still, why are you upset over not being interviewed? It's not as though it would have made a difference, right?"

"…?"

"I mean," Olivia continued, looking away from me and up at the surrounding skyscrapers, "You would have gotten the job, even if they did insist on interviewing you."

I laughed. "Oh, really? And why's that?"

"Well…" Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her fair cheeks grow a slight pink; probably because of the chilly air, right? "I mean…it's not as though they would turn down someone with your educational background. And besides, you are very…personable."

Grinning, I responded with a brief "Thanks," and we continued in silence until I decided to try making more conversation. "So…now that I've got the job, what are you going to do? I mean, you should be focusing on your Senior Thesis, right?"

Olivia's frown deepened. "Are you suggesting that I leave?"

"No, no, no! That's not what I meant at all!" Great, Gregory, you've managed to mess this up, too. "What I meant was, I mean…I was just wondering if we'd still be seeing each other. You know, a-as friends," I added the latter part with a nervous chuckle. To this, she turned to look at me, her large eyes examining me thoughtfully. "Friends?"

"I-er…I meant acquaintances, of course," I quickly amended my statement. Again, stupid.

"…" Not blinking for what seemed like a very long time, Olivia seemed troubled by this answer. I stopped walking at the nearest street corner and she followed suit. "Yes?"

"Look, I don't want there to be any miscommunications here," I said in an attempt to mollify her troubled mind. "I've really enjoyed working with you this past week. However…I must imagine that you have other work to do, right? I don't want you to feel compelled to help me." I don't want your pity. Smiling in what I desperately hoped was a reassuring manner, I continued, "I'm sure your friends are wondering where you've been."

"…" She glanced aside. "What if I told you I didn't have friends?"

"Y-you…don't?" Ack, a sore subject. That's just fantastic…

"It's not that I don't have people that I spend time with," she quickly added, "but whatever a 'friend' is—someone to confide in, someone to trust, someone to believe in—I don't have one."

I was stunned for two reasons, the first being Olivia's almost naïve sense of friendship and human bonds, as though she had taken every book that she had ever read and compiled it into her meaning of friendship; the second was that she had shared this all with me.

Clearing my throat, I watched her closely—it was my turn to do the studying. That day, at that moment, she looked years younger, the way one would typically expect a college student to look. She looked more fragile, more youthful, more human. I guess…that means that she's serious. "…Then…I'm assuming that we are ... not friends, correct?" I asked gently. Though I knew what the answer was, I couldn't help but hope that she'd say something different.

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "Yes…" My heart sank. "But," she continued, a small smile growing, "We are now colleagues, are we not?"

"Er…yes, I suppose so."

Now she fully grinned. "And colleagues don't just abandon other colleagues, correct?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"You may be smart, Gregory," she said as she pressed the crosswalk button, "But it is you who has miscommunicated. It's not out of some sense of…pity that I helped you. It's because I want to." Those last words she said, just as a child may enforce his or her point, had a very definitive tone, implying that those were her final thoughts on the matter. As we walked across the street and parted ways just a few steps later, I continued to watch Olivia. How boldly she walked forward, not looking back, an expression of complete determination on her face. I smiled to myself as I got into my car. No matter what, I wouldn't be able to change her mind; it appeared as though she wished to continue spending time together.

Who was I to deny her?