The rest of the school day, I caught myself watching her more than I should've. Celestia was Celestia—laughing too loud at things that weren't that funny, teasing me for no reason, poking at her friend, Marina, in ways that got her smacked with books. Didn't though, nobody got smacked with books.
On the surface, nothing had changed.
But every now and then, when she caught me staring across the room, her smile wavered just the tiniest bit. Her eyes said it all: You want to ask, don't you?
And yeah, I did. But I didn't. Not yet.
I played along. Smiled when she tugged me into her orbit. Laughed when she was dramatic about hating gym. Pretended to be as normal as she was pretending to be.
By the time we got back to my place, I thought maybe she'd say something first. She didn't.
Instead, the first words out of her mouth were aimed at Duchess, who padded lazily into the living room to greet us. (I didn't mention Celestia brought Duchess over on Saturday did I?)
