Usagi heaved a dramatic sigh as she flopped onto the stool beside Mamoru, spinning on the red fabric to face him.
"Whatcha studying today, baka?" she asked in a pretend weary tone. Inwardly though, she was bubbling with nerves and excitement at being so close to him.
An annoyed Mamoru looked up from his notes, a pair of black-framed glasses sliding down his nose. "Wouldn't you like to know Odango?" he huffed.
"Come on, please?" she wheedled. She drummed her toes on the stool's foot rest and clasped her hands in her lap, humming with energy.
This time it was Mamoru's turn to sigh, but all things considered, he gave in rather quickly. Perhaps he couldn't focus with her around either . . . no, that was just wistful thinking.
"Okay, okay. It's notes for my foreign culture class. Since it's November, we're studying Thanksgiving."
"That's an American holiday, right?" Usagi asked, crinkling her nose as she thought.
"Uh-huh," Mamoru mumbled, shuffling his notes and shoving his glasses up his nose. Usagi watched, transfixed, as they promptly slid downwards again. Her fingers itched to help him.
Jolting back to her senses, Usagi abruptly straightened her spine and folded her hands behind herback. Mamoru turned back to her, attention caught by her flurry of movement, and frowned, puzzled. Usagi blushed.
With a slight shake of his head, as if clearing away excess thoughts, he continued.
"Thanksgiving has a very long history in the US, but today it is all about gratefulness."
"And food," Usagi interjected, remembering one of Makoto's spiels about the holiday.
Mamoru rolled his eyes, sarcasm returning to him. Meaning that their somewhat civil conversation was at an end. Usagi felt panic shooting through her — she wasn't ready to go back to arguing quite yet.
"What are you grateful for this year, Mamoru-san?" she said hurriedly, the honorific an unfamiliar taste on her tongue.
Mamoru blinked in surprise, caught off guard by her question. And probably her manners too. His glasses slipped, ever so lower, and as he showed no intention of replying anytime soon, Usagi distracted herself by blurting — "I'm grateful for my family
/and friends. And for Motoki's milkshakes and my manga and —" she caught herself before she could say you "— Tuxedo Mask."
Mamoru inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring, a hint of pink in his cheeks. "Um, I guess . . . I'm grateful for Motoki's friendship. And to be studying at such a good college. And . . . kind of . . . well . . . you," he stammered, color flooding his cheeks
/and ears.
Usagi, all restraint ripped to shreds by this declaration, was unable to help herself from pushing his glasses up the bridge of his handsome, if rather pink, nose. Mamoru, looking up from his shoes, locked eyes with her. Very blue eyes.
Now it was Usagi's turn to feel a blush bloom across her face. "I'm grateful for you too," she murmured, barely able to hold eye contact.
But it was so very worth it to see the smile lighting up Mamoru's face.