//------------------------------//
// A Date With Scootaloo 
// Story: A Date With Scootaloo 
// by NotProud 
//------------------------------//

(A/N: I saw this picture and inspired me to write a story. This girl she is so strong and brave so I hope this shows.
I Am Not A Proud Pony
But This One I Can Be Proud Of)


*****

A Date With Scootaloo
By NotProud

My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic and all non-original characters are owned by Hasbro and Lauren Faust. No copyright infringement is intended. If you paid money to read this, please report whomever you paid to the law enforcement of your country!


Here you are, back at the same old crummy school with the same old crummy classmates. But this year, something is different.
It might have to do with your father who caught you reading My Little Sweetheart earlier this month. You got the magazine (a 50-page spread of famous ladies, even the Princesses, in various states of undress) from Rolly Polly, who with a big grin gave it to you for your 14th birthday. He said it would unlock a whole new world to you, but really it just unlocked tightness in your shorts. But you couldn't look away from the glossy photos and learned to please yourself in the shed out behind your house, overlooking the vast rolling plains that sweep up towards the mountains looming beyond Ponyville.
On that fateful day, your father, Luckily Scoop, saw you with your hand down your jeans and you became very embarrassed even though you didn't really know why. He got this far away look on his face and sat down on the bench next to you, not noticing when that hot white stuff made a big stain the front of your pants.
He's a big man, your dad, strong and broad shouldered. His dark skin is a shade deeper than your own. "Lickety, mah boi," he said, stroking his beard and raising a finger in the air, even though he wasn't facing you, "there comes a time in every young man's life when he learns things. And those things aren't the same anymore. It's okay, I say, it's okay to feel what you're feeling, just be careful, all right? Some young filly gets your knickers in a twist, you don't rush things now, hear? Treat her like a lady and save the mushy stuff for when you're older."
Dad never did make a lot of sense half the time.
Thinking back on it now, you realize that what's really changed is the girls. They've all got those lumpy things on their chests, some of them massive, as big as their own heads if not bigger. Especially Twist. You remember Twist got hers before school ended last year, and Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon teased her for it. She got the laugh though, because now those two are shooting her glares because their chests got bigger, but not even by half of hers. They must be jealous.
Yes, you noticed these things last year, but only now are you paying them any heed. Maybe it's you who changed. Yeah, you definitely can't tear your eyes away from Twist's thingies now, and you feel your cheeks getting red as you stare at her tight, tight sweater. It's so tight against them and they're so round and... and big. Why is this so entrancing?
Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara are snickering at you and this draws Twist's attention. You tear your eyes away as she turns in her seat and hope she didn't see your stares. You really have no idea why you don't want her to see. Maybe something your dad said actually made sense.
The five minute bell rings and Miss Cheerilee enters the classroom. Oh sweet merciful Luna, she's got thingies too, and they're almost as big as Twist's! For crying out loud, her shirt looks like it's about to pop every buttons! Okay, calm down, look away, don't look back, it's going to be all right. Breathe, dammit. Scoot closer to the desk so no one can see your pants getting tight. If things are going to be like this way all year, you're never going to learn anything.
Luckily, someone enters right as the last bell rings. You're not surprised to see it's Scootaloo, she's always late. She limps in with a left, right-left gait. Her right leg is looking a little more beat up than usual, the plastic dented just under the knee and scuffs and black scrapes all over it. Her sock is torn. She pulls off her bike helmet and shakes out her unruly purple hair, then gives a sigh and a pathetic half smile to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, who wave at her.
"Scootaloo," says Miss Cheerilee, "please go put your helmet in your locker."
Scoot rolls her eyes and grunts, "Yes, ma'am," then shuffles back out.
You remember another time when things were changing and Scootaloo was at the center of it all. It was a day much like this, sitting and waiting for the first day of class to begin while avoiding the glares of the snooty rich girls. There was a series of thunk-click noises as a tiny, bedraggled Scootaloo hefted herself into the classroom on crutches. Her right leg ended at the knee, wrapped in white bandages. Behind her was her mother, a tall, wiry woman with pale skin like her daughter's, who stole up to Miss Cheerilee and held a whispered conversation with her for five minutes. You have no idea what they talked about, but you could make some guesses.
Scoot you recall didn't lift her head once, and quietly crutched her way to the back of the room, in the corner furthest from the door. Later that year, she would make friends with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, but at that moment, she had no one. You would have said something to her if you had thought of something to say, but you couldn't. What is there to say to someone in that situation?
It doesn't slow her down anymore, losing her leg. She's been through at least three prosthetics since then (she showed off her second one proudly for show and tell one year) and she's back to being cheerful and fiery, just like she always was. You still sometimes wonder if you shouldn't have said something to her, way back then. Oh well.
She shuffles back into the room and yawns loudly as Miss Cheerilee starts writing on the board.
"Welcome back to school, class!" Her voice is bubbly as usual. "I'm so happy to see all of you again! Since you're all in high school now, we'll be having a great year full of learning all kinds of new and exciting things!"
The class groans and you join in. It's pretty much the same speech she's given every year since you were in kindergarten. Since you're not starting with something fun to break the ice, that must mean that you're going to have lots of homework to do. High school is going to suck, you're sure of it.

*****

"Hey Lickety, check this out!"
Fat little Snips snickers and performs a yo-yo trick pretty well while his tall, lanky friend Snails laughs dumbly and claps his hands. You roll your eyes, those guys are losers sometimes even if you hang out with them all the time, and your attention turns toward the girls' table. It's lunchtime and because you don't get any recess anymore (another change) this is your only time to really observe your classmates without adult supervision, at least until school ends.
There are Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, chatting away at their table, probably talking about cutie marks still, because that's what they always talk about. You got yours in fifth grade, a bowl of ice cream on your right bicep because you knew that following in your father's footsteps and working at the creamery was pretty much the best thing you could ever do. Plus, you're good with putting together ice cream with toppings to make super awesome treats. But they've been trying and trying for years to get theirs, and you're pretty sure they're doing something wrong. Privately, you blame Sweetie.
Her chest hasn't grown in hardly at all, but it looks like she's trying to show it off anyway with a tight cream colored sweater. It's not a good look on her, it's kind of desperate and craving attention. Apple Bloom has overalls on like always, and since she's sitting facing your left, you can see how her t-shirt presses against them under the overalls. It's... alluring. Scootaloo's wearing a loose orange shirt, so you can't really see if she's got anything, but it's likely she doesn't, she's pretty skinny after all.
You feel a finger poke you in the shoulder and turn to see Snips again.
"Checkin' out the ladies, eh?" He grins big at you. "What's your favorite part? I'm an ass man, myself." He closes his eyes and leans back, as if this should be something he's proud of.
Snails laughs dumbly again. "Duh-huh, I like boobies!" He mimes the chest thingies with both hands.
Boobies, huh? Apple Bloom has some very nice boobies, in that case. As does Twist even more so, she's coming off the lunch line just now with a metal tray. Of course, hers are more than nice, they're freaking enormous and they sway back and forth like pendulums as she walks toward an empty seat.
Suddenly, you realize that because of the size of her chest, she can't see her feet, nor can she see the banana peel Silver Spoon tossed casually in front of her. You leap out of your chair, but before you can call out, it's too late. Twist steps on it, screams and slides forward, losing control of her tray as her boobs flop every which way. The tray makes a loud spang as it impacts the back of Apple Bloom's head, coating her hair in macaroni, cheese and applesauce.
At their table, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon are making no attempt to hide their laughter. Their boobies, somewhere around the size of Apple Bloom's, shake and quiver as they hold their sides, unable to hold their laughter. Twist begins profusely apologizing to Apple Bloom.
"Oh my goth, Apple Bloom, I'm tho thorry! I didn't thee it!"
"Ugh, if'n yew didn't have such big knockers, y'all wouldn't be so dang clumsy!"
"Oh my goth, let me help you clean up, at leatht!"
Apple Bloom pushes her away. "No, I'm goin' tuh thuh bathroom. See, this is why we ain't friends no more!"
You scowl. "I really hate those two," you say to yourself, turning your glare at the giggling duo. They've contained themselves and are busy pantomiming Twist's slipping with taters tots and ketchup. "Why are girls so mean to each other?"
"Yeah," sighs Snips dreamily, his chin resting on his elbows, "isn't she great?"
"What?" you ask.
"Diamond Tiara." He points obviously at her. "Best ass in all of Ponyville High." He sighs again. You notice that Snails, unbidden, has snuck off to help out Twist. Well, guess that's two spoken for. You get up and go over to where Rolly Polly is has just sat down and is stuffing his face. He's always been your best friend, not that you're sure why. He's not annoying like Snips or Snails. You two just get along pretty well.
"Hey Rolly."
"Hey Lickety." He burps and takes a long sip of his soda.
"I've been having some weird... things happening lately."
He lifts an eyebrow and looks at you over his cup. "What kinda things?"
"Like, I keep staring at..." Your cheeks start to burn. Even to your best friend, this is hard to admit. "Boobies."
Rolly smirks at you, but doesn't laugh. He reaches across the table, his bulky tummy scootching it a little bit, and pats you on the shoulder.
"Lickety, mah boi, you's becomin' a man! What'd I tell ya 'bout dat magazine?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "Let it ride, son."
Since when was he sound like your father?

*****

You were right: high school is going to suck, and it's not just because of all the homework you're going to have to do tonight. So much learning, so many new things, tons of weird, boring teachers. It's going to suck a lot, so you may as well make the best of things.
"Hey, Apple Bloom!"
You aren't sure why, but you call out her name as you leave school, the three "Cutie Mark Crusaders" as they call themselves walking ahead of you. They stop and Apple Bloom turns her head to look at you.
"Oh, uh, hi," she says. "You're... Lickety Split, right?"
"Yeah, hi, I just wanted to say, sorry about what happened in the cafeteria." That was really dumb, why'd you say it? "Are, uh, you all right?"
She shrugs and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, Ah'm fahn. Not like it's your fault 'r nuthin'."
"Well, uh, I just feel really bad about it is all. It's not nice of Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon to pick on you girls like that." You rub the back of your head nervously. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle both give you a look. "If I'd seen it coming sooner, I would've done something about it, promise." Smooth, dumbass.
"Yeah, well, uh," Apple Bloom's eyes look everywhere but at you. "That's real sweet o' y'all to say, Ah guess. Seeya tomorrow in class or sumthin'. C'mon, gals."
Sweetie purses her lips and peers at you over her shoulder with narrowed eyes as they continue on their way, but your eyes are locked on Scootaloo and shuffling gait. Even though her legs are moving slower than her friends', she never seems to fall behind.

*****

Over the next couple of weeks, you learn about physics and trigonometry from Miss Cheerilee, and baby oil and facial tissues from Rolly. You think about Twist a lot during these times, though you feel kind of bad about it because it's obvious Snails has a crush on her. He's kind of slow, so you feel sorry for him. You try thinking about Apple Bloom instead, but those fantasies never turn into anything good, she just crosses her arms and yells at you. Maybe your imagination is broken or something.
One time, when Rolly is out sick with a stomach flu and Snips and Snails are having lunch in detention, Apple Bloom invites you over to their table for lunch. You try to tell her via expressions and body language that you appreciate the offer but in no certain terms can you be caught dead sitting at a girls table. You hope the message got through, but there's no way to know. But you take note of the fact that the CMCs seem to like you, at least, and this makes you feel better. Your fantasies still don't work though, so you try thinking about Miss Cheerilee instead and that really doesn't work. Yeah, definitely broken imagination.
Then, one day after Rolly comes back and more kids are out with the same flu, you see Scootaloo sitting alone at the table. She looks depressed, or maybe annoyed, and she's just picking at her mashed potatoes. Ignoring Rolly's looks at you, you get up and take your tray over.
"Hey."
She looks up. "Oh, hey."
"Mind if I join you? You look lonely."
She looks back down at her food. "Not lonely. But sure, whatever."
You set your tray down and sit across from her. Somehow, you can feel Rolly's eyes on the back of your neck, but you ignore him.
"How ya doin'?"
Her fork tinks against the plate and she shrugs. "Mkay."
You shrug. At least she didn't ask you to leave. You start eating again and she looks at you, ceasing playing with her food and just staring at you.
"Why you wanna know?"
You swallow a bite of your sandwich. "Just bein' friendly."
She seems to consider that for a second, then nods and digs into her food. You both eat in silence until you're finished, and then she says,
"Thanks."
"What for?"
She shrugs.
With silence spreading between you two, you scratch at your cheek and feel a little fuzzy stubble there. Dang. You hear giggling behind you. It's no doubt Diamond and Silver, but you pay them no heed. You feel like you ought to be saying more, but just like back in fourth grade, you can't make the words happen.
"Hey Lickety." She says it as if she's lost your attention, which she may have, but you don't say anything.
You're glad she broke the quiet. "Yeah?"
"Thanks. For keepin' me company. We should hang out sometime or something."
"Cool." You nod. The five-minute bell rings. That's all there is to be said.

*****

She slips you a note in class: "Meet me at the track after school." You have no idea why, but your heart pounds for the rest of the day after you read that. It's with shaky fingers that you pick up your knapsack when the final bell rings and zip out the classroom door, as eager to be away from that crucible of learning as you are nervous to find out what awaits you at the track.
Disappointingly, the answer is: nothing. Not at first, anyway. You set down yourself on a bench, thinking you're probably early, and look around to see if she's here. The running track behind the school, a whole half mile oval loop, is build inside a small sports stadium, with an American Football Field inside itself. The clouds are lofting lazily by in the blue sky and you can see the green and blue pennants (your school colors for your team, the Timberwolves) at the top of the bleachers waving in a breeze you can't feel. Everything's peaceful, strangely. You've never been out here by yourself before, and in this random calm, you can only breathe deeply of the scent of mown grass and trees, close your eyes, and smile.
"Hey, there you are!"
Your entire body convulses and you fall off the bench. It's not exactly the manliest thing you could have done.
"Geez, did you fall asleep or something?" Scootaloo laughs and drops a cylindrical blue bag at your feet. Maybe you did, though you could swear you've only been here for a few minutes. She's right, though, you see other girls in running shorts warming up around the track. Their stretching and the shortness of their shorts draws your eyes until you feel a poke in the shoulder.
"Hey, hold this for me, would ya?" Scootaloo isn't looking at you, but she is holding her prosthetic leg out at you. You are suddenly very, very creeped out. She's standing with her missing leg away from you, but you can see where she's holding the knee joint back, the stub where it ends is covered by a nylon sock like thing. You look up at her with, you fear, a very stupidly expression.
"Come on! It's not gonna bite you."
You take the leg and set it gingerly on the bench beside yourself. The moment it's out of her hands, she hops once, then with her other hand places something on the end of her leg.
It's interesting: a black cup that fits around her leg stump and then has a scoop like blade that comes down from it in a curve. When she get it on, she stands on it and it touches the ground like a normal leg, except it curves way back from where a calf would be. She bounces once and it flexes, then she nods.
"That thing," she says, pointing to the disembodied leg beside you, "is gettin' kinda small, but this still fits like a charm. That's all that matters." She grins at you. "Watch me run?" She heads over toward where the others are warming up and you can't help but notice that her ass looks FANTASTIC in those tight blue shorts. You're going to have to face it: this is your life now, looking at girls and thinking dirty things about them. Why does life have to be so hard?
Anyway, your eyes drift from her pert cheeks to the thing sitting next to you. It's kind of uncanny, the black shoe and white sock pointed at you so that it really does look like a leg. You turn it around and look down the length. The top is molded to fit what's left of her leg, you assume, but the rest is hollow and not plastic, but fibreglass. It doesn't quite match her skin, yellow instead of sun-kissed, but from the inside the artificiality becomes obvious, where outside it does look more like skin, at least at a distance. You set the leg down and decide that watching the girls is a better use of your time.
You recognize a couple of them (Archer, Tootsie Flute), but it's obvious the track team includes older girls, who you don't know. None of them have particularly well developed chests, even the upperclassmen, which is kind of disappointing, although the view when they all turn away from you to face their coach teacher is priceless. Snips had the right idea. You could get used to this.
Then they run. You keep focused on Scootaloo in particular, watching as her chest bounces against her tight sports bra, but more fascinated by her gait. She has a very easy stride, with the running scoop acting like a spring, carrying her wait on every alternate step at it flexes and elongates. You can even hear the squeak ching, squeak ching as she runs past you. It's fascinating.
More than that, you can tell she really likes running. Her face looks more alive than it has all week, even when her other friends weren't out sick. It must have been horrible when she lost her leg, you realize. She probably thought she'd never run again, but here she is, keeping pace with...
Make that surpassing her teammates. She's the fastest runner out there! You know they aren't competing, but you can't help standing up to cheer as five of the fastest runners form an impromptu race and she blows them all away.
That's really admirable. Some part of you will wonder, if you went through such a trauma, whether you'd be bouncing back to live life like she has. In fact, if your behavior over the past few days was any indicator, you'd just curl up and whine about how much life sucked.
Well no more. Your path is clear now. You wait until Scootaloo comes back to get her bag. Before she can say anything, you cut her off: "Scootaloo, you wanna go out somewhere?"
This is it. You just grabbed life by the nuts, mister
She blinks at you, like she doesn't understand what you just said. Then, really slowly, she says, "Yeah, sure, Lickety. How'd I run?"
You did it. Just like that, wham, you're going out with Scootaloo. You think. You maybe didn't phrase it right. And you have no idea where you're going to go. Your stomach turns into a knot as you realize she's waiting for an answer.
"Yeah! Uh, I mean, you were awesome! I had no idea you were so fast!"
She gives you biggest smile. It was the right answer. "I know, right? I've been training hard all summer, I think it really paid off!" She sits down on the bench this time to change prosthetics, which you're glad for. You find yourself staring nevertheless, though she doesn't seem to notice. You notice that over her shoulder, you can get a real eyeful of what's in her shirt. She's not huge like Twist, or even Apple Bloom, but she's got a nice pair after all, held firm in a clingy grey sports bra.
Great, now your pants are getting tight again. Not to mention wet.
Hoping that you're being subtle about it, you heft your satchel up and let it hang in a casual manner in front of your crotch. You're pretty sure she didn't notice. Smooth.
Now, with her proper leg on and her running blade stowed in her own sack, she turns to you expectantly.
"So ace, where we goin'?"
Panicking, you think of the first place that comes to mind. "How about ice cream?"
Her face lights up. "You just said the magic words, Lickety Split!"
She turns around and marches off and you take the opportunity to let out that breath you've been holding. Things are going better than planned.

*****

On the trip to your dad's ice cream shop downtown, you two talk more than you have in the past month. Not about anything important, of course, and Scootaloo does most of the talking (about Rainbow Dash), but it makes the long walk enjoyable.
Ponyville is kind of a hick town, a far suburb of bustling Canterlot and distantly removed from larger cities like Hoofington or Manehattan. There's everything a young man needs to find there, and the nightlife can be fun if you dad actually lets you go out, but it is still pretty small. That said, the high school is located on the edge of the Whitetail Woods, about as far east as you can go and still be in town, so you get to see most of Ponyville on your way.
It's spring, and there's a last little chill breeze in the air as the afternoon sun watches your progress. Trees are starting to bloom, flowers too, and the creek that cuts the town in half is bubbling merrily. Buildings pass by and you keep your gait short because Scoot has some trouble going fast with her hollow leg.
"Let me tell you," she's saying, "the minute I get home, I'm throwing this dumb thing away and making my mom get a new one. I've way outgrown it, it itches, I'm ready for something that won't hold me back."
That's maybe a little more info that you wanted, but you try to be supportive. "You totally should." Thankfully, you're here at the shop, so the conversation need not continue.
Luckily's Scoops is a two-story edifice striped red and white. The top floor holds a pair of apartments he rents out, but the main store is spacious and filled with knickknacks your dad collects, from like a hundred years ago. You go to hold the door open like a gallant gentleman when something stops you. You look at Scootaloo, her face expectant and curious.
"Uh... Would you mind waiting here a sec?" You put on a cheesy grin and she gives you a look.
"Uh. 'Kay, I guess." She lifts her left eyebrow.
You flash your grin again and duck inside, keeping a hand to the door as you hiss, "Dad!"
His voice booms out "Lickety, mah boi!"
"Dad, okay, shut up a second, please." You grit your teeth. This is not the best idea. "I'm kind of here with a girl. If you could please not embarrass me..."
"Say no more!" Your dad flashes you a way better grin than you could ever manage. You swear his teeth gleam when he does that. "But you're gonna owe me for later!"
You roll your eyes and open the door. Scootaloo's got her arms crossed, but she moves in without hesitating. You put on the gallant doorman impression.
"Sorry about that. It would have been a total disaster if they were out of double mint chip."
She gives you a look like "You're kidding me?" and then your dad booms out, "Welcome, to Luckily's Scoops, where everything's fresh and full of fruits!" You really hate that rhyme." What can I get you kids?"
You must've sold her on the double mint chip, because after scanning the veritable selection of ice creams, she gets a waffle bowl with it. You go for your favorite, vanilla with cookie dough and Oreos in a pretzel cone, and make a show of paying for both. Even if your dad doesn't comp you later, somehow you think you'll be okay about it. You dad says nothing else that isn't business related, and you find yourself all too willing to owe him.
This is really a real date, isn't it? Too late to be nervous about it now!
Thanking the 'kind sir' behind the counter, you once again hold the door open so Scootaloo can leave. There's a nice little pair of tables with chairs and sun umbrellas set up outside the shop, and you both take a seat at one and eat your ice cream in silence. Well, you kind of make slurping noises as you lick the drips around the edge of the cone, but neither of you says anything. It's kind of nice to just sit with someone and say nothing and not feel like anything needs to be said. You keep trying to catch her eye (mostly by staring at the side of her head), but she remains focused on her ice cream spoon.
You lick your lips. You think back to the weird scene with Apple Bloom after school the other day. Unlike that, you've been rehearsing this moment, well any time you weren't whacking it to her friends.
"Hey, Scootaloo..."
"Yeah?"
"You remember... back in fourth grade?"
Her eyebrows peak. She remembers all right. She takes another bite of ice cream. "Yeah."
"I just wanted to say..." You can feel heat rising into your face. This isn't anything big, why is it hard to say? "Just wanted to say sorry."
She gives you a look. "Sorry?"
"Yeah. For not saying anything." Your eyes burn holes into the ice cream cone. "You looked like you needed a friend then, but I couldn't think of anything to say."
She nods, slowly. "Me either."
She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. She looks like she's going to say something else, until a woman with heaving breasts secured by a tight cyan sports bra jogs past, her rainbow-striped hair fluttering behind her. Scootaloo shoots straight up out of her seat, and it's only by some miracle that you're able to save her ice cream from toppling off the table. She does not notice your brave act of heroism because she's too busy hopping up and down and shouting, "Rainbow Dash! Rainbow Dash!"
The woman, hearing her name, skids to a stop and, panting for a moment, jogs back over your way. "Hey there, squirt, what's up? Who's your friend?" Her voice squeaks a little bit. You've never met her before, and you're trying not to stare at her chest.
"Oh my gosh, it's so awesome you're here, Rainbow Dash!" Scoot's eyes are enormous and she's smiling like an idiot. "I was running after school, and I totally put on this extra burst of speed, and..."
"Whoa, slow down kid!" Rainbow Dash turns her attention to you, and your eyes snap up to hers. She smirks. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were on a date right now."
Scoot looks slightly horrified, turns to look at you, and then looks away. You do as well and share in her blush.
"Uh, yeah, kinda, I guess..." She pokes her fingertips together nervously. This is not any side of Scootaloo you've ever seen before, not that you know here really deeply.
Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes. "Well, introduce me, sheesh. What kind of a date is this, anyway? What's your name, kid?"
"Lickety Split, ma'am. Nice to meet you."
Rainbow Dash narrows her eyes at you and puffs out a breath. "Don't ma'am me. You make me sound like somebody's mom. Name's Rainbow Dash. You treatin' Scoots good?"
You sit up a little straighter. "Yes, ma- I mean, Miss Dash."
"He totally is, Rainbow Dash," Scootaloo says. "We've been having a good time, right?"
You have. Wow, awesome. "Yeah, it's been fun."
Rainbow Dash nods approvingly. "Just remember, squirt, it ain't cool to ignore your date." She tosses her rainbow hair and you wonder how she got it like that. "Anyway, I gotta get another two miles in before tonight. Catch ya later!" With a wave, she takes back off jogging the way she was going.
Scootaloo gives you a lopsided smile as she retakes her seat. After a pause she says, "Sorry for kind of, uh... ignoring you there. Rainbow Dash is my idol, I'm always happy to see her."
"Hey, it's no big deal, really." You give her a confident smile. No point in getting all sad over this, right? "I am having fun, after all. I mean... since this is a date and all."
"Yeah..." She gets a faraway look for a moment.
"Hey, Lickety?"
"Yeah?"
"You meant what you said earlier, right? About that day I came to class..."
"Yeah." You look down. "I feel bad about it now. I just couldn't think of anything to say."
She puts her hand on your shoulder. "I try not to let the past hold me back, and you shouldn't either. You're a good guy, and I appreciate that you're showing me a good time and stuff. If it's cool, I think we should do this again sometime."
You stare into her eyes. They're violet. She smiles and you return it.
"Does this mean you're like... My girlfriend or something?"
"Eww!" She sticks her tongue out, wrinkling her nose. "It's just one date, don't be weird!" Then she laughs and you do as well.
It's been a good day.