A Firefly's Glow

Chapter Eighteen: Part Seven

“Keita!” My shoes were pinching my more than ever as I slid out into the hallway. How could girls walk in shoes like these?

Of course, I really couldn’t blame the shoes. They really weren’t made for running in.

Usually, classy and wealthy princess people do not run after other fellow royalty when wanting to get their attention. They probably have security servants surrounding them who are ready to dash into anyone the master commanded them to.

But alas, I was not a classy and wealthy princess person, and I was not surrounded by security servants determined to catch Keita for me.

I was going to catch up to him myself.

I wasn’t going to let some pinchy shoes ruin my chances of running what I was determined to catch. What kind of woman would I be if shoes held me back from my destination?!

“Keita!” my voice was definitely hollering now. “Keita, stop!”

I saw his figure ahead of me. I didn’t care if my hair-do was messed up by the air that rushed against my face, or the gawking stares that the other princess people gave me as I ran past them.

I wanted him to stop walking and just turn around, but he didn’t. He kept his arms relaxed against his sides.

It was as if I wasn’t calling the right name, so he wasn’t responding to my calls.

Or perhaps he was wearing earplugs, and he couldn’t hear me whether I called his name in a correct or incorrect away.

I wasn’t going to stop running. He hadn’t answered my question yet!

“Keita!” I felt slightly relieved when I reached his side, but I had a hard time keeping up with his walking. I panted as I stated, “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Yes, I did,” Keita answered without as much as giving me a side glance.

“I was calling you,” I paused mid sentence, trying to catch my breath. “You hadn’t answered my question yet.”

“What is your question?”

I wrinkled my eyebrows. How could he be this calm at a time like this?

How was he walking so fast with me tromping along behind him? Couldn’t he at least just slow down so I could breathe?

I hated this guy. I absolutely hated him. I wanted to smack him across the face again.

“Keita, stop! I can’t catch up!”

“Then tell me what you need to say later.”

“No!” I wanted to tug his sleeves and yank him backwards, but something inside me willed me against touching him.

He didn’t slow down. It seemed more like he was walking a little faster.

“Keita, this is important to me!”

“Then tell me when I’ll listen.”

“Listen to me now!”

He paused in place, and I found myself ramming into his back. I stumbled backwards with a loud “Oof!”

He didn’t seem to take my klutziness into account. Instead, he murmured, “Mashiro would listen to you.”

It took me a second to gather all the relief I could from my precious time of pausing in place before I noticed what he said.

Mashiro?

I quickly inferred that he was talking about Mikan when I stopped. Mikan really had nothing to do with this situation.