College, what a blast!

Their chocolate skin seemed to glow as they leaned against the cream colored upholstery.
And when they stood, they both towered over her. Ryme suddenly felt as if she had shrunk, not that she had ever felt very tall before.
Monsieur DeVallée had a completely bald head, and his eyes were kind and soft as he kissed her hand. “Nice to meet you Miss Ryme, was it?” He asked in a rumbling voice. Ryme felt herself wishing he was to be the groom, even though he was quite a bit older than her, as she nodded her head and blushed.
His son, on the opposite side seemed someone hardened toward her. To her father, and his own, his motions were flowing, fluid even, but when he looked at her he seemed to turn to stone, and hardened against the very thought of her.
“Ryme? What sort of a rhyme might you be?” He joked in a harsh tone.
“Nalo!” Hi father reprimanded.
“Not a very tall sort.” Ryme told him with the same tone, she wasn’t very good at many things, but her humor seemed to work on Monsieur DeVallée. He let out a loud chuckle, it was in a low tone and made Ryme blush even more so then the look Nalo gave her did, as he glared at her.
Her father suddenly stuck a conversation with him, giving Ryme a chance to study Nalo, who glared out the window pane.
His hair was short and extremely curly around his head, his eyes were light brown and when she looked in them they looked like they should be soft, but they weren’t.
Nalo made a rude face at her and she colored while their fathers were not looking. Ryme was not often around boys her own age, except the help, who didn’t count, usually it was the old men her father tried to marry her off to, and she played tricks on them with the help of the stable boys and the maids.
So Nalo was new and scary. “Ryme, what was it that caused you to be so late anyway my girl?” Her father asked, looking up from his and Monsieur DeVallée’s conversation.
Ryme’s eyes widened as she looked at her father, and she stared at the floor, her feet turning inward in embarrassment. She mumbled about her archery to her clothed toes.
“Darling, as much as I try I cannot hear you as well as your toes, please speak to my face.” Her father was always a funny joyous man, he did want the best for her, his last child, and the rest of their family had died when the sickness came.
“I was practicing my archery Father.” Ryme was still quite red as she kept her eyes on her father’s face, her own still red.
“Well, then I think you should show us how good you are!” Her father decided.
“Oh, father no!” Ryme’s gasped as Nalo grinned at her, as did Monsieur DeVallée.
“What a splendid idea! Nalo is a very good archer himself.” He told her father.