She twines a strand of hair around her fingers, sitting back up. “I asked you if there was anything else you wanted to do, and you didn’t answer,” she points out. “And you aren’t annoying and bratty.”
His eyes watch her as she messes around with the hair, speaking to him in such a prominent manner. He hardly minds, honestly. “I didn’t answer because I didn’t have a plan. Didn’t exactly want to leave yet,” he admits to her, waiting for her response with curious eyes.
“I don’t want you to go either,” she mumbles, almost inaudibly. She flops back on the bed, spread-eagled, and stares up at the fan on the ceiling, idly poking at him with her power. Something’s going on in that skull of his, and she wants to know what it is.
It’s just so awkward. She hadn’t seen him much in the last month before school, despite her birthday, and so she hadn’t really thought about if their friendship would fall back into the same lines when they went back to school. It seems like it hasn’t — but she isn’t sure if that’s him trying to be better friends, best friends even, or her stupid crush on him that she’s trying to hide.
