Zephyra's POV
The silence between us had grown even more comfortable. We were sitting on opposite sides of the small café table, waiting for the lunch we ordered to arrive, when I finally decided to break it.
I leaned forward a little, trying to sound casual even though my curiosity was anything but.
"So," I said, folding my arms on the table and giving her a look, "are we close enough now for you to tell me your real age?"
Astraea blinked, caught off guard, her fingers pausing on the napkin she'd been absentmindedly twisting. "My age?" she repeated, as though the question surprised her more than it should've.
"Yeah," I said with a small smile, "you know, the one that isn't made up. You still haven't told me how much older you are than me, and I'm still trying to figure out if this is like a cute age gap situation or a you've-been-alive-since-the-Roman-Empire kind of deal."
