He's watching me.
He's always watching me.
I look at him.
He smiles.
I hiss.
His smile widens.
I blush.
His grin is at its widest.
The worst part is I can't see his eyes behind those opaque glasses.
I'm about to speak when a tennis ball hits me in the head. I turn and glare.
"Oy, mamushi!" Damn Momoshiro. "Duck next time, will ya!"
I hiss. "Yarou..."
I'd go over there and rearrange that face, but I'm sure he's still watching.
I turn toward him.
He's smiling.
And, just a little, I smile.
Maybe being watched isn't so bad.