"Penny you're fifteen," William said without looking up from his phone. "That backpack is for children."
"You're just jealous because I have style."
We moved through several stores and Penny kept finding reasons to grab my hand or touch my arm or stand pressed against my side while looking at things. At one point she insisted on taking a selfie with me and wrapped her arm around my waist while holding up her phone.
"Smile Oliver!"
I smiled awkwardly while she took about fifteen photos from different angles.
"You're so photogenic," she said, scrolling through them. "Look how good we look together."
William glanced over and made a gagging sound.
"What?" Penny shot him a glare. "We do look good together."
"He's like an ancestor, you're a baby."
"I'm not a baby!" Penny's face went red. "And age is just a number!"
"That's what criminals say," William muttered. It took me another second to process that William just called me old, an ancestor? Really?
