Chapter 21:

Flightless Bird (American Mouth)

It had been so long since I listened to my iPod. I pulled it out after halting during my run on the rooftops. I put on Bring Me to Life, by the artist whose name I could never find. It was such an old song played way back, yet it felt new to me. It refreshed me emotionally. There are times when you just needed a song to match your mood, no matter how worse it made your mood feel.

I continued Running—away from Tony, away from Nahlah, away from Project Icarus, away from life. The Edge was the void between life and death: one jump, and it could be over, or it could be another awkward landing onto the next rooftop.

I reconsidered the Edge. I found myself balancing like a ballerina along the Edge, a skyscraper behind me. I turned, wondering stupidly if someone was on the other side of the mirror, doing their work, carrying on with their "life". This was where my philosophy of life became "death" where sufferings only existed, and death became "life" seeing that no one suffered. It was peace, just how life was supposed to be—one of the reasons why I didn't really believe in God anymore.

As I ran, my vision was murky by overwhelming thoughts and memories. They brought me back to Nahlah and my conflict, which seemed solid, fresh, all flesh and blood. Just like that. As if the memory jumped there on its feet right in front of me.

Nahlah was . . . right, I realized. I was fooling myself—in the process, fooling everyone. I didn't know what was real anymore. I couldn't believe within a week or so this all had happened: being a Runner, betraying my fellow Runners, meeting Nahlah, then switching to Project Icarus just to see her, now Tony coming into the picture.

Holy fuck, what was I doing?

I suddenly reminded myself the reason why I turned over to Project Icarus.

Nahlah.

Weird things flashed in my vision: Tony, his jokes, how he saved me from Loraine, always trying to cheer me up, always being there even though I never wanted him to, and then the emotions his face took throughout today's events.

It was 4:00 by the time I realized I had run too long.

Pepper was beeping in. "Heyyyy, are you listening to your music?"

Another memory flashed: Merc.

I shook my head, and looked down at the city below me. After being up here for so long, I missed Running. The city was just a prison of emotions. Up here, it was all about weightlessness—the only "emotion" was freedom.

"CELESTE!" She screeched deep enough; the whine of my earpiece comms completely overwhelmed my music. I unplugged the one earphone from my ear. It dangled on my shoulder, while I whipped my hair back from the warm breeze on the Edge.

"I'm here. And my name's Vanity," I began.

"Forget the codename. Everyone in this city—at least Blues and Runners—know who you are."

"Does anyone not know me?"

Anyone but Nahlah . . .

My mind snapped: Nahlah was the only person who didn't know me. She knew me as Celeste, but not Celeste Post the ex-Runner who became a Black Neck. Everyone else knew me as both Celeste the Runner and Celeste the Black Neck.

"That's deep, Cel. Look," said Pepper, focusing. "Meet me at the New Eden Mall. We all know how great of a mall it is. Let's pick out a dress."

"Wait—dress? I can understand a beautiful formal shirt or something, but why go as far balls concern?" I demanded, eyes bulging.

"Well, you wanna look good for Tony, right?"

"This is a bit too . . . chick, ya know?"

"Fine. We'll go with some dashing top or something."

"Can't believe we're aiming for clothes that may encourage his perverted mind," I joked.

Pepper chuckled. "You're right. But hey, I'm not the one who fell for such a perverted mind." I was silent on that one. Pepper nearly burst laughing. "Wow, you're sensitive."

"Can we get something straight?" I declared, determined.

"What's that?"

"I am not a virgin," I corrected fiercely. "I've been with plenty of guys in my teenage years. C'mon, cut me some slack."

Pepper laughed, this time. This was the first time I seriously heard her laugh. "Wow. You're still sensitive, though. Whatever—c'mon, let's get you a beautiful shirt or something."

--

Shopping took an hour and a half. Pepper may not be the girly, gregarious girl, but she sure was picky.

"Hm, I heard that men find red the top hottest color on a woman," said Pepper aloud, parting racks of clothes hangers apart.

"Which is why I'm gonna wear gray," I joked.

She laughed lightly, then pulled out some dresses, mostly red. "C'mon, throw these on. After all, the color still suits the Runner within."

"Awe, I feel all cozy inside." I took the dresses to the fitting room. After several tries, I ended up liking only one red dress. Liking my pick, Pepper and I finalized that it was my dress for the night.

Just as we walked by a clothes rack, my eyes caught something rose-red. Pepper, sensing I wasn't following her, turned around as I pulled out a hot strapless red shirt.

"Cel, I thought this was formal."

"Dates don't always have to be formal. It's like back in our teenage years when we just wore jeans or skirts and sweaters," I retorted, twisting it to take a look at it from all angles. "I like it."

"C'mon, I really liked that dress, Celeste."

"Lemme try this on first before you complain." I tossed her the dress while I carried the shirt away.

"And what do you plan to wear with that for pants and shoes?"

"I hate high-heels, in all honesty, which is one of the reasons why I'm avoiding the dress right now."

"I thought we were trying to cover up as much as possible from Tony's perverted eyes," called Pepper over my stall's door.

"Well, it's a date, right?"

Pause. "So you are trying to please him?"

"When you word it that way, I refuse to agree. It's a fucking date, one and only one, Pep."

I examined my red shirt in the mirror, turning myself around to check the different angles. Endless red laces crisscrossed my entire bare back, exposing slits of my skin. I turned, facing my front. The whole strapless shirt on the front lacked logos or any other details, which I liked.

"So . . .?" Pepper knocked on the door.

I looked at my shirt again in the mirror. Then, at myself. My observant smile faded as I stared at the woman imprisoned by the meaningless luxuries of earrings, pretty shirts, eye-liner, and shopping.

"Celeste?

My stare lingered until finally a burning burst of adrenaline took over. I fisted the mirror. It wasn't hard enough to break, but I made tiny cracks, on which my fist laid trembling. I didn't dare to look at myself in the mirror, not any more. The Runner wasn't there, I had broken her face.

"CEL?" Pepper was pounding.

I opened the door, presenting my shirt. Pepper stared, then smiled thinly. "Looks good."

"Thanks."

She peered behind me, then gave me a disappointing bulge of her eyes. "Cel, you didn't . . .!?"

I turned, seeing the cracked glass.

"Sorry, I was holding the clothes hanger, turned, and hit the glass."

Pepper stared at me, obviously not falling for the obvious. She stared, face unchanged, but eyes emphasizing concern. "A simple motion like that could not possibly crack thick-ass glass, Celeste. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I told her, eyeing her hard. Then, I went back inside. "I want this shirt. Let's go."

--

"What are you going to wear with it?" asked Pepper when we left with my new purchase. "Jeans and flat-heels or something?"

"NO. Just sneakers."

She gawked at me. "This is a date with Tony. How are you gonna flatter him with sneakers?"

Her tone was low, mature, beautiful, and soft; I couldn't tell whether or not to take her seriously.

"This shirt should work," I assured her with a goofy, small smile. "After all, Tony's perverted whether I have clothes on or not. Being in between should be fine, right?"

Pepper tried to restrain a grin. "This is crazy. I cannot believe this all happened so fast within an hour. One day! Reagan and Loraine will get a kick outta this."

"What have they been doing, anyway? Anything new?" I asked as we got into her car.

"Just more Runners, which you'll be doing tomorrow. So you'd better enjoy tonight," threatened Pepper with a tender smile.

We drove off.

"Hey, can I stop to get a pair of jeans?"

"Yeah, sure. You can borrow mine. We'll go to my house."

At her house, after slipping dark-blue skinny jeans on, Pepper gave an approving sweep of my image. "You're a Victoria's Secret model."

"That's the last thing I wanna be," I reminded her. "Being a Runner was my passion. We could take those Victorai's Secret models on, even if they weren't wearing their high heels."

"Hey, don't be biased," snickered Pepper. "You're one of them right now."

I cocked an awkward smile in response. Then, I found myself drifting into thought. Pepper looked at me funny.

"What is it? Did you forget something at the mall?"

"No, no." I squinted into thought, then looked up at her. "It's just that . . .Tony and I never discussed when we'd meet at Ocho's."

"Oh. I'll give him a buzz." Pepper moved to her kitchen.

Meanwhile, Reagan homed in. I had forgotten I still had my earpiece in. I flinched.

"What the hell, girl? He DID get you drunk! You lied—because you were drunk!" she burst.

I couldn't help but grin. "Hey, who's the one who told everyone about us?"

"So, it is true . . ." Her gasp was quiet and shocked.

"You're the one who spread the rumors," I reminded her strictly, again.

"They're not rumors, Cel. Because now they're officially the truth—they are news," she exploded, excited, just as I had thought when we talked at her place the other night.

Thinking about my last night at Reagan's, I suddenly asked, "Hey, by the way, was it you who gave Tony ideas? It feels like it."

"Hey, hey, you're the one who brought him up the other night!" defended Reagan.

"YEAH, but just simply WONDERING where he lived!" I roared. "It meant nothing, it was a harmless question, and you blew it out of proportion."

"Aren't you glad, though? I mean, who knew, Canon and Post dating. Woo, it's giving me a workout over here."

It was strange how I was laughing on the communicator with Reagan, my most recent enemy in the beginning. It wasn't as if I had ever concerned myself with her being my "enemy", it was just, the whole "enemies" thing was annoying, not concerning. Maybe she was in a good mood, seeing she did something unselfish and for the greater good by spreading rumors that encouraged Tony to ask me out. I wondered what she told him that made him so hopeful—it all made sense. Ever since talking to her, he acted more hopeful and determined than ever.

"Reagan, I'm gonna kill you anyway," I told her.

"Do that after you have sex with the most perverted guy in Shard City."

I glowered into my earpiece. "Now that you said that, now I'll kill you."

"So you will do him?" pressed Reagan casually, yet forcefully.

I exhaled, frustrated. This awkward conversation was blowing out of proportion and there I was going along with it as if it was harmless.

Pepper entered the living room. "I know it's late, but Tony sounds like he's been struggling what to put on for the date. He's warding it off to 9:00, he hopes you don't mind."

"No, not at all," I said.

Pepper added, "I also told him how hot you looked."

I stared at her. "Did you really have to do that?"

"Sorry, I'm excited. So, I guess this makes us friends." Her tone! Do I take her seriously?

"And you blame me for taking our jobs down to personal measures." I rolled my eyes, returning to my talk with Reagan. "What's going on up there at the Shard with Loraine?"

"We caught five more Runners today. A lot of work than it sounds," said Reagan, sighing. "Not to mention bolstering city security against them. Also, more protests, but nothing big. No one got hurt, not even were guns aimed. A bit pushing, yeah, but, hey, progress. See? Look where passive force brought us—not a single gun was pulled out! Protests are dying, now that we got five more Runners jailed."

I thought about Reagan's "good news". Wow, five more Runners. I started praying there weren't anymore, because I was sick of hearing about it.

"Well, I'm going. Have a blast." Reagan hung up before I could say good-bye.

"Ready?" Pepper stood behind me, smiling as if we were going off toward a tasteful battle we knew we'd win. "You look good, don't worry."

Did I look worried? I returned Pepper's lit eyes, which suddenly faded into a faint blue as she looked at me. She folded her arms.

"What is it?"

I looked out her window. Nothing but city lights, the usual, so I didn't stare out the windows anymore.

"Celeste?" urged Pepper softly.

"Sorry. Um, I'm . . . what time is it?" I shook my head to get out of it.

"You've got an hour until the date. Ocho's thirty minutes away. Why . . .?" Pepper's eyes pasted to my face. "Ok, what's going on? Are you nervous? Don't be, Cel—"

"Can you drop me downtown, just quickly?" I blurted, standing there dumbly.

"Hold on," interrupted Pepper.

She gave me a quick overlook before approaching me, reaching up, and yanking my ponytail out. Reflexively, my hands snapped up, but didn't feel a ponytail. Ignoring my aghast expression, Pepper's fingers harped through my hair, smoothing it out. She smiled as she stepped back.

"There." She looked, letting my new image sink in. "Wow . . . you're beautiful with your hair down. Oh my god."

I didn't want to look at myself anymore ever since the mirror incident at the mall.

I smiled weakly. "How does it look?"

"You look great—here." Before I could speak, Pepper reached up to her own ears and took out chain-like earrings. "Take my sterling silver. With your hair down like that, it frames your face nice. These earrings make your face stand out, in contrast to your eyes. Ohmygod, you are not Celeste Post. What have you done with her?"

I couldn't help but smile as she chuckled.

Finally, she said, "Nervous, huh? I guess it wouldn't hurt to stroll downtown. Maybe I'll bring along my dog for a stroll—"

"No, just by myself," I begged softly.

Pepper took another curious look at me before nodding. "Okay. Let me get my coat. I'll come and pick you up in an hour at the memorial fountain. I'll tell Tony about it. He's probably doing the same thing, ha."

"Thanks."

--

Once Pepper dropped me off at the park, I tossed my earpiece. Then, I called a taxi and drove back to Nahlah's.

Knocking on the door anxiously, I stood there, waiting, rocking uncomfortably on my feet. My sneakers squeaked underneath me like frightened mice. The door opened seconds later.

Nahlah looked at me, then her eyes stretched. "Cel? Is—is that you?"

I didn't know what sent her eyes popping most: my appearance or the fact that I was here at her doorstep 8:00 at night. Nahlah's warm eyes levitated up and down my new image, mouth nearly open. For some reason, this sent my skin crawling with an excited, yet anxious flush.

"Hey," I said, sounding like I just let go of my breath. I smiled. "Sorry, um . . ."

"What are you doing here? You . . . you're dressed," she stated suddenly.

I nodded, not sure how to word my thoughts and feelings.

Nahlah wiped what could have been sleep or utter confusion from her eyes, just to clear her vision and mind. Her eyes flickered up and down again. "Um . . . what are you doing here? Did something happen—?"

The brunette paused before I could answer. She stared. ". . . Wait, are . . . are you going out with Tony?"

My lips remained sealed as I tried to force the words out. Instead, I swallowed quietly, nodding quickly but barely.

Crestfallen, Nahlah looked at me again, then at the floor, then at my new image. "Um, okay. But, what are you doing here? Did you go out with him already or are you about to?"

"Can I come in?" I blurted. After all, I was making a complete fool out of myself. I couldn't speak.

"Does Tony know where you are?" she pressed, ignoring my plight.

"Um, yes and no. Nahlah, just—can I come in?"

Nahlah's expression was still puzzled, but it softened as she smiled. "Sure."

I walked in. I sensed her eyes still scanning me as I brushed into her house. When she closed the door, she couldn't help but chuckle lightly as she folded her arms, eyes aiming downward.

"I like the sneakers," she joked.

I turned, smiling with her. "Yeah, I hate high-heels."

She nodded, smirking. "Okay. But that's not what you're here to tell me, is it?"

I sat down on her sofa; I've missed it already. I looked up at her. "Nahlah . . . I'm nervous."

Not sure how to interpret my words, Nahlah's eyes surveyed her whole room as she collected her thoughts, before looking back at me. "Nervous about, about the date?"

"Um . . . kinda, yeah."

I didn't know why I was there anyway, of all places.

Nahlah slowly walked toward me, but never really sat down. She was searching her room, as if her eyes would find the answer somewhere around her.

"Celeste . . ." she began, folding her arms uncomfortably. "What are you doing?"

"I dunno," I burst.

She stared, silent, with a still face I couldn't read—a face I could never read.

"Celeste, you need to go," she said. Her voice sounded broken and hesitant. "You need to go see Tony. You need it."

I shot her a look. Since when did I need Tony?

"Because apparently he's been there for you more than I could ever try," admitted Nahlah solemnly, looking at the floor. "You're with him a lot, especially during work, the most consuming hours of your day. Maybe even sometimes at night time."

"Tony's only comforted me once. He hasn't done anything," I fought.

Nahlah looked at me. "What are you trying to get at, here, Cel? What are you doing here?"

"I dunno. I . . . had to see you, first."

These short words sent a whole new wave of emotion over Nahlah's face. She looked at me, speechless, face not too lit, or too dull to mistaken as indifference.

Nahlah situated her crossed arms, trying to speak. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

I honestly didn't.

"How could I face him anyway if I have no feelings for him?"

"Is this what it's about, Celeste?" asked Nahlah, capturing me in her eyes. "You're going on a date so you can get to know him."

"You sound as though you're trying to get rid of me," I asked, trying to grin. "Aren't we friends?"

Nahlah smiled, shaking her head as if sarcastically. "We are, Cel. But, look. Since of earlier today, I realized that things have been difficult for you. I think you're struggling with yourself over what or whom you need. You need Tony. Whether you like it or not, he's the person who's always there."

I stared quietly at her, then at my hands. "How do you know that? I'm with him too much, why do you think I like hanging out with you on my free time?"

"Celeste, I like you. I adore you," whispered Nahlah. I looked up, unable to speak; she smiled widely. "But . . . things have gotten complicated. You're torn between a great guy for you, and me, your friend."

I stared at her, that last sentence mowing in my head painfully like an awful memory.

Nahlah approached me slowly until she was towering over me. I didn't dare look up. My eyes remained on my hands in my lap.

"You look beautiful with your hair down; I didn't recognize you," she whispered.

"No offense, but I thought a hot hooker appeared at my doorstep."

I let out a chuckle.

Nahlah knelt down, holding my face in her hands. She wiped out some loose strands, looking into my eyes.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, smiling into my face. "Tony will love you."

I let the moment linger as I found myself smiling, feeling better: my heart peaked to a heavy pound. I thought it was overflowing with blood. From my lap, my eyes wandered into hers.

"Nervous, hm?"

"Yeah," I answered, barely a whisper. I chuckled. "I'm not sure if I can dance, either, whether in high-heels or sneakers."

She smiled softly. I sat up, parallel to her face, our eyes even as she released my face from her hands.

"You don't know how to dance?" she suddenly burst, frowning.

I corrected her. "Yeah, I do. I just, suck."

"Right, right, because you're a virgin." A teasing smile tugged at what at first looked like a joking disappointed frown.

"Here." Nahlah stood up and went to her iPod stereo. "I'll show you, it's easy."

Impacted, I stared at her back, which was turned as she scoped her songs. I struggled with my lips to say something, but I didn't. By then, a band of hushed male voices started serenading.

"I don't know this song, I don't think," I said.

"I was a quick, wet boy diving too deep for coins; all of your stray, light eyes wide on my plastic toys. Then when the cops closed the fair, I cut my long, baby hair; stole me a dog-eared map. Called for you everywhere . . ."

"Flightless Bird, American Mouth," answered Nahlah, turning around. She clasped her hands, ready. "A nice, slow dance. Get you and Tony in the mood."

"And I found you, flightless bird. Jealous, weeping . . ."

"Oh please, not the mood," I joked, grinning, resting my arms out along the crest of the sofa.

Nahlah walked over, smirking, too. She stood a foot from me, looking at me funny, before saying, "Don't get comfortable, you're gonna get up and dance."

I looked at her. Giving a fake smile, I shook my head, waving the dance off. "No. I don't dance. Dance is for chicks."

Nahlah rolled her eyes, yet smiled. "Right. C'mon, get up."

"It's a Thai restaurant, Nahlah," I stressed, laughing. "We're not gonna get serious or anything. It's no ball room or anything. I hate dancing, anyway. Especially slow dancing."

"How do you enjoy clubs, parties, or concerts, then?" teased Nahlah.

Before I answered as I couldn't help but smile, Nahlah reached out her hand, waving it. "C'mon, Celeste. What happens if he tries to bring you to a concert, or outside into a random park to dance?"

"He'll rape me," I answered jokingly. She rolled her eyes, hand still insisting for mine, while I threw her a thoughtful look. "With you? Sorry, you're not my type."

She put hands on her fists, staring. "That's not funny."

"I'm serious," I told her flatly, still smiling though. "You're too brunette, with blinding bright eyes, and you're too beautiful. I can't take it. It annoys me."

The brunette stared, then beamed. "Perfect, then. Too bad. C'mon."

She grabbed my wrist, trying to pull me up. I refused. Our playful smiles, however, didn't stress how serious we actually were.

"You're gonna learn how to properly do a date," said Nahlah, tugging effortlessly, obviously joking. "C'mon, I don't wanna force you."

"You were just tugging—"

"Celeste. It won't be bad. It's the slowest, easiest thing you could do."

"I told you, I know how to dance—I just suck, and I don't like it."

"Yeahhh you will," said Nahlah. "Why don't you like it?"

"It gives people watching all the time in the world to observe everything about you."

"You are sensitive."

"Leave me alone."

Her smirks never stopped. She pulled. For the first time with her, I was agitated. When she saw this, she stopped, looking at me—an irresistible, cute expression that made me think of a puppy I couldn't upset. Dammit, I thought those couldn't work on me. I gave an exaggerated sigh before surrendering. I followed her out onto the open, spacious floor. She situated us both an inch apart from each other, standing straight. Exhaling, she lent me her hand.

"C'mon," she urged. "You're gonna have a perfect date if you do this right. It just . . . I dunno, completes it."

"There is no such thing as a perfect date," I told her, serious. "You look like someone who would know that."

"Okay, yeah," she agreed, folding her arms, "but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try having fun."

"I dunno. You like women. I find this awkward," I said, grinning.

She fired a heavy blue glare before grinning along, arching a questioning eye brow. "C'mon, Cel. These fingers will age."

I laughed lightly, then returned to the subject. "And what if I don't want the date to go perfect—seeing that I don't have any feelings for Tony?"

"You will, you do," confirmed Nahlah. "Once you kiss him."

I looked at her in a long pause. She lowered her eyes, before rubbing her lips together shyly, and demanded softly, "Your hand, Celeste. We dance."

I looked at her hands, then at her, and replayed what she just said. "Nahlah, I'm not gonna kiss him just to see if I like him."

She didn't answer, just kept her hand out with an impatient, yet shy look. I stared at her, unsure. However, my hand lightly and slowly as if on its own ascended and grasped Nahlah's. The contact was warm, soft, and . . . amazing. I looked at our hands. She softly tightened her hand. I was suddenly frozen, unable to react at all except let her do all the work as I looked down at her.

Nahlah looked up at me, smiling. She then gently slipped her hand into my other free hand and had me wrap my hand around her waist.

"Now, you told me you've been on dates and danced before, so prove it to me," she ordered.

She looked up into my eyes, while I finally obeyed. Our bodies were suddenly brushing each other slightly, chests softly padding each other, hands intertwined, my other hand holding her close to me, her other free hand lightly rested on my shoulder.

"Um, Nahlah . . ." I began, staring at us.

"What?" She looked up at me, just as we started dancing to the lyrics.

"Tony's not my height," I said.

We both stared at each other, observing how I was taller than Nahlah by a few inches—then ended up laughing shortly before shutting up.

"Yeah, this is a problem," concurred Nahlah, chuckling.

We were dancing, despite the "problem".

I looked down at Nahlah after our share of giggles. ". . . No . . . we're fine."

She looked up at me as we continued drifting.

"Now I'm a fat house cat, nursing my sore blunt tongue; watching the warm poison rats curl through the wide fence cracks; pissing on magazines . . ."

"What the fuck is with these lyrics?" I blurted.

I couldn't help it. I'd been subconsciously listening to them, for their random selection of lyrics to such a lovely, lullaby-like song bugged me.

Nahlah chuckled, amused by my taste in lyrics. "I dunno the artists, but the last time I heard it was when I watched some movie that was originally a popular series back when we were kids. Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer."

I nodded in response. I had no idea who the hell Stephanie Meyer or what Twilight was.

We were still cradled in each other's arms, swaying, rocking, dancing, drifting, whatever you wanted to call it. Whatever it was, it was light, slow, beautiful, and perfect.

I took in this slow hour to examine every flicker of light on Nahlah, who was still in her orange tanktop and jean skirt from lunch. Light softened her shady, milk-warm eyes, which were looking away subconsciously, drawing my wandering eyes close. Her Mexican shade of skin pouted her sweet, perfumed collarbone. The dim light flooded her skin flawlessly, as if it was her makeup, toning her defined cheekbones the right color. A slight tinge of gold outlined her thick hair. I randomly outlined the thin, straight bridge of her narrow, yet pinched nose, and found myself gazing at her thin, wide lips. They were so thin and fragile looking, but accessible and beautiful, igniting a strange fire inside me.

It was these very features that ruptured my heart. I thought I was dying.

I heard that it was personality before looks that made someone a true character to another's eyes. However, I reconsidered that: a little beauty was needed.

"Celeste," murmured Nahlah, locking our eyes.

"Hm?"

"You should get going—what time were you meeting Tony?"

"It was 9:00, but now it's 10:00," I told her.

"Okay, well, I'm glad you came here to clear your head," whispered Nahlah. "You look . . . more relaxed . . ."

We suddenly stopped, but we were still holding on to each other softly, yet carefully as if afraid to hurt the other.

"I don't think I can go," I returned.

My voice suddenly shook, I don't know why, but I restrained it.

However, Nahlah sensed it. She sensed it more than anyone ever could. Her hands found the planes of my cheeks, quickly, before brushing loose strands from my face again.

"It's just a date. You'll know your answers after it. Let it pass."

I looked at her uncertainly, while she suddenly reached around my head and pulled my hair up into its familiar ponytail. She smiled: "There you are."

With her own hair elastic, she tied it up.

I stared, speechless, eyes invading every plane of her face.

"You look beautiful with your hair down," said Nahlah, her hands tugging my ponytail briefly. "But I prefer this, like when we met."

I nodded, smiling weakly. I sighed. ". . . I guess I should go."

Nahlah smiled, whispering, "You know I care about you, Celeste. I understand how stressing this is for you. So, if things go wrong, lemme know. I'm here."

And she kissed me.