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Stargirl… It falls from his lips.

Stargirl… she falls from somewhere.

He think—he thinks that possibly, maybe, he might be falling for him—with her swaying skirts and shy blushes, but then again, he may just be falling for her… He really doesn't know, after all, he's never really experienced that inexplicable want to be for someone, to listen to their musings about the sun, and the moon and mermaids, and stealing.

But with her, he thinks it could be worse.

A lot worse.

She's okay.

And to him, okay, a steady girl who wanted another guy, who looked at him with lidded eyes and an open heart and salmon lips and a clean face, not caring, just okay, always okay.

Well, it's so much more than okay.

Because between you and me he's wanted okay for a very long time.

So for now he'll muse and dream and think about girls and stars and Stargirl's and how these are three very different things—because arguably she isn't really a girl and not a star but a Stargirl.

And that has a definition of it's own.

"I didn't want my old name," she shrugs, "so I guess I got a new one." She looks up shyly, and all he can think is that she is a pretty girl with a funny skirt and longish hair—and that she is okay.

(okay, is nothing but a dream, and so are Stargirl's)—but here he is, falling for her.

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