章 2484: 67
Chapter 67: Promise 7-5
Note: This chapter is not a confirmation of any pairings, so feel free to talk about them, but don't flood me with complaints about how this isn't your OTP and Essence is stupid now because it doesn't have the pairing you want.
Promise 7.5
"Here."
The hanger was held up, so that the swimsuit dangling from it draped over Jamie's clothes.
Well. "Jamie." That was the alias she'd given me earlier. Since there were only two women currently on the Protectorate ENE's roster and she was the wrong ethnicity to be Miss Militia, it was really more of a polite fiction that it wasn't obvious she was Battery. The idea that I wasn't aware she was using a pseudonym, even more so.
I wasn't particularly bothered by it. The extent of my interaction with her prior to this was saving her life, so it wasn't like we knew each other well enough that I expected her to trust me with her real name, even if most of the Protectorate had probably already been briefed on mine.
Having her act as a chaperone on my date with Dennis, however… I wasn't exactly happy about that, but I was much more glad it wasn't Armsmaster or one of the male heroes. Because that? Would have made swimsuit shopping a whole hell of a lot more awkward.
Jamie, fortunately, happened to be a grown woman. No need to worry about wondering whether a man ten or more years my senior was imagining me in a skimpy bikini.
The swimsuit Jamie had picked out was a black, high neck bikini, with a top decorated with a stylized golden sunburst that would, when worn, cover everything from the collarbone down to the bottom of the sternum and stretched from armpit to armpit. No cleavage whatsoever, which was good, since I didn't have much in that department to begin with. The bottom was similarly conservative, with three thicker straps around the hips and an incredibly modest dip in the front.
It was a nice swimsuit. Really nice, without being trashy or uncomfortably revealing. But…
"So?" asked Jamie. "What do you think?"
"It's nice, but…"
I wasn't sure it was me. I wasn't sure I could pull it off, the way other girls might. I'd told myself for ages that Emma and her hangers-on were just saying the things they did to hurt, but even if I wasn't as ugly or unattractive as they said, I also wasn't a knockout bombshell, either. I was just sort of plain. Great abs, great legs, but mostly unremarkable.
Lisa would probably look amazing in this thing, though.
"But?" she prompted.
"I'm…not sure, um…" I said haltingly. "I, uh, I've…never worn a…a bikini, before."
Swimming, like plenty of other things I used to do, had fallen by the wayside in the wake of Mom's death. Back then, I'd been way too young to be going out in something like a bikini, although it wouldn't surprise me if someone said that there were bikinis made for and marketed to ten-year-old girls.
"Oh." Her eyes went wide. "Oh. Uh, okay. Well, we can find you a one-piece, if you think you'd be more comfortable in that."
I chewed my bottom lip, considering it, but no, I didn't think I would be. A one-piece would show less skin, sure, but it wouldn't be any less formfitting, and some of the ones I'd seen earlier had embarrassingly high cuts in the legs and hips — which, if you were comfortable with that, hey, go you, knock yourself (and probably a few guys, too) out. I wasn't.
Plus, well, this was supposed to be a date, wasn't it? Showing off a little was part of the point, wasn't it? Wearing a super-conservative one-piece or a bikini from the fifties would be like showing up to Prom in a Victoria era dress, complete with hoop skirts, bloomers, and corset, or else imply that I was shy or nervous or just uncomfortable in my own skin (which I was, all to varying degrees).
Ugh. Why was this stuff so complicated?
"No," I said. "No, uh, let's… Let's go with this."
"All right," said Jamie. "Do you want to try it on, first?"
I imagined stripping down and getting into that bikini, then walking out so that she could appraise the fit and comment on whether or not it was "a keeper." I felt my cheeks warm a little; no, there was no way I was going to do that in a department store with a veritable stranger. I wasn't sure I was even comfortable with the idea of doing that in front of Lisa and Amy.
"No, no, this is fine, it's fine," I rushed to assure her. "As long as it's, uh, mostly the right size, it'll be fine."
She looked at me skeptically. "You sure? I mean, if it doesn't fit right, it might slip off while you're swimming, and, uh, give your date a bit of a show."
My cheeks grew even warmer at that mental image, of the top or bottom coming off and Dennis staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, at me, naked. God, I'd probably die of embarrassment, right then and there.
"It's fine," I repeated a little squeakily. "It's… If I have to, I can, um, adjust it in the changing room."
Her brow furrowed, and she regarded me with confusion.
"Adjust…"
Then, a look of comprehension slowly dawned over her face.
"Oh! You mean with your… Yeah. I guess someone as…versatile as you has some way of doing that, huh. I have to admit, though, I don't think I've seen people using their…gifts for something so mundane, very often."
"Arachne," I mumbled as my answer. "And, um…yeah. So, as long as it's close enough, I can just fix it myself."
"Okay, then. We'll go with this." She offered me a friendly smile. "And if it makes you feel better, I think you'll look great in it."
My head felt like it was going to explode from all of the blood rushing to fill my face. "Um, thanks?"
"I'm not kidding," she said. "Those boys were practically salivating when you took your jacket off the other day."
I wanted to bury my face in my hands.
"That wasn't why I did it," I protested weakly.
"Oh, I know," she replied. "I got the point you were trying to make. Probably not how I would have gone about it, but it was definitely…effective. And memorable."
I let out a soft, distressed groan.
The incident she was talking about was the first day of training with the Wards, which hadn't, it turned out, been just with the Wards, but with several PRT agents that Piggot had wanted me to train, too. The question had been raised, at one point, about whether or not I was using my power to boost my performance.
So, to prove it wasn't, I'd taken off my PRT-issue sports jacket (the soft, breathable, polyester kind), demonstrated my power on its lowest setting (the black undersuit), and then turned it off and soundly beat everyone in the room, simultaneously — under the condition, of course, that the only ones who could use their powers were Strikers, because it kind of defeated the point to fight at range with a close quarters martial art. There wasn't a better sales pitch than comfortably taking on upwards of ten people at a time, all of whom had at least some level of hand to hand training.
The thing I hadn't thought through at the time was that the only thing I'd been wearing under that jacket was a sports bra. Which meant that everyone in the room, especially the five teenage boys that made up the majority of the Wards team, had gotten a good look at an awful lot of bare skin, including the abs that had been building up for the last four months.
It made picking a bikini a little bit easier of a decision, at least. Dennis had already seen about half of what it would show off.
"Okay," said Jamie, checking her watch. "We've got about an hour before we're supposed to be at Swansea. How about we get this swimsuit paid for, then go and grab a quick lunch somewhere?"
My stomach wholeheartedly agreed with that idea. I took a breath and tried to will away the heat in my cheeks, or at least pretend it wasn't there.
"Sure. That sounds good to me."
"Okay, then. Let's head to the checkout."
We made our way to the checkout line, where Jamie snatched up a Snickers bar from the shelves— "A guilty pleasure," she confessed to me as though it was some great secret, "my husband has a mild peanut allergy, so I don't get to eat them very often." — and I got to use my official, PRT issue debit card for the first time. The clerk did give us a bit of a strange look, though, since Jamie and I looked nothing alike and she was about seven years my senior.
After that, we got back in her car, a generic four-door that I was pretty sure was a rental, buckled up, and drove away.
"So," she said as we pulled back onto the road, "any preferences?"
I shrugged. "Something light, I guess? Nothing really heavy or greasy."
"Not Fugly Bob's."
I pulled a face. Something that greasy and filling, right before going for a swim? I'd prefer to keep my lunch in my stomach, thanks. "No."
"Frank's, then?" she suggested.
"Frank's?" I asked.
She glanced at me briefly.
"It's a bistro a few blocks from Swansea, to the southwest. You've never been there?"
"Can't say I have."
Not that I remembered, at least. Maybe Mom and Dad had taken me there when I was younger, but if they did, I didn't remember it.
"It's where my husband and I had our first date," Jamie explained. "A little family owned restaurant, does a lot of fish and chicken dishes. Their chicken parmesan is to die for."
My stomach gurgled its agreement.
"That sounds good to me."
"Frank's it is, then."
We lapsed into silence for another few minutes as she drove. With nothing else to really do, I looked out the window and watched the city pass by, trying not to imagine what it might look like tomorrow, if the plan failed and Leviathan had the opportunity to try and flood it. I tried not to picture all of the horrible ways all of the people I saw, both those in their cars and those walking, all of them none the wiser of what may be coming tomorrow, could die.
I could do it, I told myself. I could drive him off, I could kill him. I just had to believe I could, because if I went into the battle thinking it was already lost, then it was.
"So, why today, if you don't mind me asking?" Jamie asked.
I blinked and looked over at her. "Going on a date, you mean?"
"Yeah." She nodded. "Seems a bit strange, is all, considering who…what's supposed to happen tomorrow."
I hummed.
"You wouldn't spend the whole day alone with your husband, if you knew there was a good chance you might die the next day?"
"Well…"
I took a breath through my nose, let it out slow. "It's not…really that, but…something of a whim, I guess. And maybe…maybe I just wanted to give Dennis a chance to have fun, before tomorrow. Let myself have fun, too."
"With Dennis?" she asked.
I slanted a look her way. "Is there something wrong with Dennis?"
"No, no, of course not," she said. "I just wasn't aware that you two…well, knew each other that well."
"We don't," I admitted. "And he didn't make a great first impression, either, but…"
I trailed off, hesitating.
"But…?"
I bit my lip.
This was really the sort of thing I would talk about with Lisa or Amy, my friends. Lisa especially, since she was really good at helping me sort out my problems. Probably because she could cut through all the vague stuff and get straight to the heart of the matter.
But… Neither of them were here, and even if they were… Amy had enough on her plate, right now, and she didn't need me adding to it. Lisa…I was still in the process of putting my head back together; talking to her, even if she could help the best, would be counterproductive to drawing those lines I needed.
And Khepri… One of Khepri's biggest issues had been trust. Trusting the wrong people, not being able to trust the right people, some of that her fault and some because the right people had screwed her over one time too many.
One of my issues was trust. Not all of it had been inherited from my alternate future self, either.
Even knowing that, could I… No, maybe more importantly, should I trust Battery?
Maybe… Maybe not. But would it hurt to try?
"Can…you keep a secret?"
She frowned and mulled it over, a moment. "As…long as it isn't something I should be bringing up with my superiors," she began slowly, "then yes, I can keep a secret."
I hesitated a handful of seconds longer, then took the plunge.
"You know about Khepri?"
"As much as we've been briefed on, yes," she answered. "Which isn't much, admittedly."
That didn't really tell me anything.
"You know she's an…an alternate version me, who had a different power?"
Jamie jerked, but aside a short, abortive turn of the steering wheel, managed to keep control of the car.
"No," she said with a strange lilt to her voice, "no, they…left that out of the briefing."
My respect for Armsmaster and Piggot rose a few notches. I hadn't expected for them to respect my privacy on that particular issue, so I was pleasantly surprised, but when I gave it some thought, it did make some sense. Khepri was a…complicated issue to explain, and one that wasn't strictly necessary information for the rank and file among either the PRT or Protectorate.
"Oh," I said. "Well, um, there's…not really a good way to explain it, and I don't really know exactly how it works, but…"
I gave her a rough overview of Khepri, just the salient details. Not her career or any of the complicated stuff, not her struggles with authority or fighting tooth and nail to stop the end of the world, just the most basic, important points. It necessitated a bit of how my power worked, too, but even though I can tell she wanted to ask questions about it, she kept quiet while I talked.
"So she's not really you, but who you could have been, for want of a nail?"
"Yes," I replied. "Same life up until January. Same person, until we got our powers. Hers led her in a different direction than mine did."
Jamie blew out a deep, heavy breath, and didn't say anything for a long moment.
"Okay. Okay. This isn't really the time or place to try and unpack all of the stuff that implies, so I'm just gonna cut that out and ask, what does this have to do with the date today?"
I hesitated for a few more seconds myself, but like with Lisa what seemed now like a lifetime ago, I'd already gone this far and extended this much trust. What was it to extend the little bit more and talk about the issue that was actually bothering me?
"Khepri…she became one of the Undersiders. Grue, their leader, wound up being her first love. He was…a lot of her firsts, really. Her first real kiss, her first… Well. You never really forget them, you know?"
"Yeah," said Jamie a little distantly. She sounded like she was thinking of her own experiences. "Yeah, those sorts of things…they really stick with you."
I took a deep breath and went on.
"I'm not Khepri. I've never even met Grue, let alone kissed him or…done those other things with him. Except…I kind of did, because I have Khepri's memories of it all. Her thoughts, her feelings, her sentiments. I've got them all, with varying degrees of clarity and intensity. They're all jumbled up in my head, and sometimes, it's hard to tell where I end and Khepri begins. Which parts are her, which parts are me, and which parts just overlap, since we're both Taylor Hebert."
"So it feels like you had an intimate relationship with someone you've never actually met," she said. "And Dennis? How's he fit into all of this?"
"Dennis, he's not Grue. He's…actually, he's basically the opposite of Grue, in every way that matters. So… I figured, the best way to find that line between me and Khepri is to differentiate myself from her as much as possible. Do things she wouldn't do."
"And going on a date with Dennis is one of them," Jamie concluded.
"It's not the greatest plan ever," I admitted. "It's…probably a pretty shitty thing to do to Dennis, too, but…"
It was a terrible reason to go on a date with someone, I knew that. It wasn't the worst of ulterior motives, but I thought it was probably pretty high up there, in terms of ones that didn't actually, you know, involve murder. I certainly wasn't going to be canonized by the Catholic church for my generosity anytime soon.
Until they managed to get me hooked up with Doctor Yamada, though? Or at least a psychiatrist with similarly awesome chops? It was the only thing I could think of, in the short term.
"I think it's understandable," she said, not unkindly. "I also think you're not giving Dennis enough credit."
I blinked.
"You do?"
"I can't say I know him particularly well," she hedged, "but he's not stupid and he strikes me as fairly empathetic. He's the one who asked you, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then maybe what he's trying to do is make you feel welcome. Like you're a part of the team."
Maybe, but…
"Wouldn't it have just been easier to do that with a welcoming party or something?"
"Well, he's also a teenage boy," Jamie said with a wry smile, "and they're not known for particularly rational decision making, especially when it comes to girls they might like. I think Dennis would probably like for this to be a first date, but he's probably okay as long as you enjoy yourself."
That only made me feel worse about the fact I might be leading him on.
"I… I don't know if I like him enough for this to be a more…long term thing," I admitted.
Jamie laughed. "That's the point of going on a date! Figuring out if you like each other enough to keep going. My advice, Taylor? Stop worrying about whether or not this is something someone else would do — even if she is some bizarro world version of you. Just forget about that for a while, try to have fun, and maybe, if you enjoy yourself enough, reward Dennis with a kiss."
"Wh-what?" I squeaked, cheeks red.
"If you think he deserves it," she added with a grin. "If he's respectful and gentlemanly or just a lot of fun to be around, go ahead, plant one on his cheek or his lips or wherever you're comfortable, and if he's an utter pig, feel free to smack him. If anyone asks, I didn't see either happen."
I didn't say anything, although my face felt like it was on fire.
A few moments later, she drove the car into a parking lot and pulled into a free space, announcing, "We're here."
I reached for my seatbelt and got ready to open the door, but her voice stopped me.
"Hey."
I turned back towards her and she stuck out her hand, stiff and formal-like. "Samantha Campbell," she said. "But my friends call me Becca or Becks."
My eyes widened, and after a moment, I took her hand and shook it. "Taylor Hebert," I said, like she didn't already know. "But…Becks?"
She gave me a kind of strange smile, like she was thinking of a joke I didn't get. "It's a nickname I picked up in school," she explained. "Doesn't make much sense now, but… My maiden name is Beckett, you see, and Sam or Samantha never really fit, so a couple of my friends came up with it. You can call me whatever you're comfortable with, though."
"Nice to meet you, then," I said.
"Same to you, Taylor."
— o.0.O.O.0.o —
Lunch was a quick and quiet affair, since we were too out in the open to have an actual private conversation (read: one that had anything to do with our "jobs" or our powers), and I had a simple but delicious chicken salad. Then, we headed to Swansea, Brockton Bay's only public indoor swimming pool. Emma and I had been to it a few times when we were younger, as something of a yearly tradition, but it felt like it had been eons since last I set foot inside it.
Once we got inside, I headed immediately for the changing rooms and swapped out my underwear for my new swimsuit, stuffing them into the duffel bag I'd brought along, where I had also set aside an extra change of clothes. Then, I grabbed the worn old beach towel (one that once belonged to my mom, but Dad had never had the heart to throw away) that I'd pulled out of storage for this occasion and went back to the main area.
Somehow, I felt more exposed, even though I'd put my clothes back on overtop the bikini. It seemed to me as though everyone I passed had x-ray vision and could tell exactly what I had on under that shirt and jeans, and I was made keenly aware of exactly how much it would show off.
When I made my way back to the main area, Sam was talking with a tall boy whose back and shoulders were cut with lean muscle and pale skin with freckles about his shoulders. He was dressed in a pair of blue trunks and his head was topped with a shock of red hair that —
Oh.
Sam spotted me and greeted me with a simple, "Oh, Taylor."
The boy turned around, and Dennis greeted me with a grin and an equally simple, "Hi."
Dennis…was hot. His skintight costume as Clockblocker and the loose, standard issue PRT exercise gear had not done him any justice at all. Chest, stomach, arms — he was lean muscle, all around. More compact, somehow, than Grue had been, but with no less mouth-watering definition, no less sculpted perfection, honed for use rather than show, and oh my god, I was staring, snap out of it, Taylor!
"Hi," I replied lamely.
Was this all him? Had he been in this great a shape before, or had training with me for two days done this to him that quickly?
He tossed his head in the direction of the pool. "Want to head in?"
It would probably help me cool off, at least a little.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Um, just lemme…"
I reached for the hem of my shirt, and then I hesitated for a moment, heart hammering in my chest, before I lifted it and pulled it off, up and over my head. Then, I slipped off my shoes, unbuttoned my jeans, and slid them down my legs. I could feel Dennis' eyes on me the entire time, and it sent little thrills of something I couldn't identify through my stomach, like tiny jolts of electricity.
I picked up my clothes, using that as an excuse to avoid looking at him for a few seconds longer, and set them aside with my duffel bag in an empty seat at the table Sam had picked out.
When I turned back to Dennis, his cheeks were a little red and he had a strange grin on his face, a peculiar cross between nervous and excited.
"Wow," he said a little breezily. "You look…really good. I mean, I saw before the other day when you took off your jacket, but… Wow."
"Yeah," I said for lack of anything more intelligent. "So do you."
"Are you two just going to ogle each other, or are you going to get in?" Sam asked dryly.
Dennis and I both jumped, and he laughed, smiling. "Right, yeah, um, let's…"
"Right, um, hang on a second, lemme just…"
I reached over to my duffel bag and pulled out a hair tie, then gathered the hair I was so proud of back at the nape of my neck and tied it off, so that it was out of my face. I spared a moment to ruefully wish I'd done something to correct my vision, then swapped out my glasses for a pair of prescription goggles.
Maybe, if I had a free moment tonight, I could come up with something to fix that. If I got creative enough, I wouldn't need anything more complex or specialized than a bottle of ordinary, everyday eyedrops.
Together, we made our way over to the edge of the pool, and without pomp or circumstance, Dennis gave a little hop and jumped in.
He turned back to me and grinned. "Come on in, the water's fine!"
I hesitated a moment longer, then decided to be a little less adventurous than him and slide into the water, rather than jumping. I stepped forward, closer to the edge, and started to crouch — and then I slipped.
I had an instant to feel the sudden jolt of cold adrenaline in my belly, and then I was falling into the water — and into Dennis.
"Ah!"
Pain blossomed in my head, just above my hairline, and Dennis grunted as his arms came up and steadied me until my feet managed to find the bottom.
"Ow," said Dennis, and when I looked up at him, he was rubbing tenderly at his chin, where my head had collided with him. His other hand was still on my upper arm.
That was when I realized exactly how close we were.
A sound not unlike a mouse being stepped on squeaked its way out of my throat, and I threw myself backwards as quick as I could until I had managed to bump into the wall of the pool. The throb in my head from our collision was a tickle, compared to Bakuda's pain bomb. It was there, but barely worth a mention.
"Sorry!"
But he just grinned and waded closer.
"C'mere," he said, "let me see."
He stood up on the balls of his feet to look down at me and lifted one hand to probe gently at the spot where I'd hit him, and it felt a little strange, to be honest. Weird and unusual. I mean, it was the sort of thing couples did for each other, sure, but we barely knew each other and this was our first date, so… Was this a boundary I just wasn't aware shouldn't be crossed, yet?
I didn't know, and because I didn't know, I felt way out of my depth.
"Well, I don't see anything," he announced after a moment. I kept my gaze turned towards an uninteresting patch of pool water, the only thing in my field of view that wasn't Dennis and his muscles. "Does it hurt?"
"It's fine," I mumbled as an answer. "I've had worse."
He stepped back, and so did I, except I was already as close to the wall as I could get.
"You sure you're okay?" Dennis asked.
"Fine," I bit out, maybe a little harsher than I needed to. I felt my cheeks flush again. "Just…haven't really spent that much time. You know, with topless hot guys."
I realized what had slipped out a moment later, and my cheeks burned as Dennis laughed again.
"You know," he muttered so that only I could hear, "if I'd known I was going to get a reaction like that, I might have thought twice about wearing a speedo."
Oh fuck, he really had noticed me staring at him earlier — wait. Hold on just one second.
"Were you really going to wear a speedo?" I hissed at him incredulously.
He grinned from ear to ear, eyes dancing merrily.
"Oh fuuu-udge, no," he corrected halfway through, glancing around at the other patrons. "For one? I figured you'd turn around and run the other way if I did. Secondly? You have to have some kind of crazy confidence to go parading around in one of those."
I opened my mouth, and what came out sounded like something that belonged in Lisa's. "Didn't think you could pull it off?"
"Wow, what a loaded question!" he said, but he didn't seem offended. "But, nah, it just seems kinda scandalous, you know? Indecent, I guess. Which, I mean, hey, it's me, and I named myself…well, what I did, but even I have standards about that sort of thing."
"Standards?"
"There's a difference between showing off and showing off," he explained cryptically.
I just decided to pretend I understood what he was talking about.
"Anyway," he went on, "we came here to swim, didn't we? So let's swim!"
He took one of my hands with his, and I let him pull me deeper into the pool, where a lot of the other patrons were swimming.
We spent the next several hours like that, just…doing nothing special. We swam a little, splashed each other, and goofed off, like we were an ordinary pair of teenagers going on an ordinary date in an ordinary world. No capes to bother us, no Endbringers looming on the horizon, no supervillains causing mayhem. Just ordinary people living ordinary lives.
It was fun, after I let myself relax a little. After I stopped worrying about Dennis being shirtless, about me going around in that ridiculous bikini, about everyone seeing me like that. I even forgot myself a couple of times and splashed Dennis with a bigger wave than a girl my size should have been capable of.
Dennis just laughed it off.
We even got dragged into a few games with a few groups of others about our age, and we wound up playing Sharks and Minnows, Marco Polo, and Chicken Fight (hint: Dennis and I won that one). I was surprised to find myself laughing in ways and to degrees that I hadn't laughed for quite a while.
Four hours passed like lightning. By the time our stomachs convinced Dennis and I to leave the pool and seek out the pizza that was waiting for us with Sam, it felt like I'd only just gotten in. But my body wanted food, and the growling noises my stomach made to make that clear were audible enough that even Dennis could hear — and make jokes about how he was on a date with a tiger.
And then his stomach growled, too, and I pointedly started humming The Circle of Life.
I dried myself off as best as I could, then wrapped my mom's beach towel around myself and took a seat. Next to me, Dennis did the same.
Immediately, I pulled open one of the two boxes and grabbed a full half of the large pizza, and Dennis took the other box and grabbed about the same amount. Sam, who had already taken her share, quirked an eyebrow at us, her lips curling a little at the ends.
"You two seem hungry," she remarked, amused.
"Starved," Dennis said at the same time as I said, "Famished."
She glanced at our plates, smirking. "I can tell."
My first piece of pizza seemed to disappear, that's how quickly I ate it. Before I realized it, I was already taking the last bite and licking the remaining cheese off my fingers.
Fucking hell, stuffed crust. Someone was trying to spoil me.
"So, she likes pizza," Dennis said between bites; I think he was already on his third piece, "and she enjoys swimming. What else does this international woman of mystery do for fun?"
I didn't answer him immediately, using my food as an excuse to think about my response. On the one hand, I didn't know him that well. On the other…well, Sam had already said it, hadn't she? Getting to know the other person was basically the point of going on a date.
"Reading," I said, "mostly. It helps me feel connected to…to my mom."
"Ah," he said sympathetically. "If you don't mind…how…?"
A part of me did. A part of me had never gotten over it, had been buried in that dark hole with her, and that part of me would probably always be there, a little girl who had lost her mother far too soon. But it had been two years, and the rest of me had learned to cope and deal with that scared, lonely little girl.
"Car crash, about two years ago. I play the flute for the same reason, but I'm mostly amateur at that."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam pick up her plate and quietly move to the next table over so that we could have some privacy.
"No sports? I mean, with legs like that, you could probably own a soccer field."
I shrugged, trying not to pay too much attention to the curl of pleasure that swirled in my belly.
"Wasn't really my thing, back before…you know." January. My Trigger Event. "And even if it had been, Sophia would have…"
Absolutely sabotaged any attempts I made at joining the team, all the more so if I'd tried out for Track and Field, her preferred sport. She'd probably have taken it as a personal insult, and if the way she'd died was any indication, being insulted only made her more vicious.
"Ah." He changed the subject. "Any siblings?"
"Only child," I answered. "You?"
"My parents have enough trouble handling just one of me," Dennis said, grinning. "Can't imagine how much trouble they'd have with two of us. I think the universe would explode from too much awesome."
I snorted, remembering that line of bull he'd spouted to Amy and me about 'Clockblocker, the awesomest of awesomes.'
"As far as hobbies go, I guess I'm pretty typical? Video games and stuff like that," he went on. "One of my friends tried to pull me into Dungeons and Dragons a while back, but I never really got into it."
"No sports?" I parrotted his question back at him.
He chuckled.
"With what time? I go straight from school to my 'work study' program." He put quotes around the words 'work study,' and it was fairly obvious he meant the Wards. "I get run ragged enough there, I don't even want to imagine what it'd be like to do a sport on top of it."
"Fair enough."
I wondered if it was going to be like that for me, now. Things at Winslow had made it…easy was the only way I could put it, to blow off the second half of the day and go do my own thing; after the Locker, that had mostly meant experimenting with my powers, fortifying my house, and building Nimue's castle.
Now that I was a Ward, was it going to be impossible to do large scale stuff like that anymore? I guess, if they didn't let me, or even if I had to ask permission from now on, that was one of the downsides that I hadn't really considered too deeply before joining.
"So you said you read? Let me guess: Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Maggie Holt —"
"Frankenstein, Dracula, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights," I listed off. "Mom was a literature professor. I've been reading that stuff since I could read."
"So basically," he said, "everything off the English Lit syllabus in high school."
I shrugged.
"I guess?"
"You'll be super prepared for those, then. I'd pay good money to see the look on the teacher's face when he realizes you probably know more about the material he's teaching than he does."
I felt my cheeks warm a little.
"I'm not going to try and show up the teacher, Dennis," I said.
He blew a raspberry.
"Ruin my fun, why don't you."
"I guess you're not a big fan of literature, then?"
"Eh," he said noncommittally, lifting one shoulder. It did…interesting things to his chest that I was trying to ignore. "I read more when I was younger, but these days, I don't really have the time for it, you know? Video games are easier to drop in and out of. You can stop and start basically whenever. A good book needs a lot more investment."
"I mean, I guess I get where you're coming from…"
I couldn't imagine it. Books, and the worlds they let me escape to, had gotten me through the rougher parts of the last year and a half.
"So I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you're not a fan of soaps, then."
I made a disgusted noise in the back of my throat. "Oh god, no. My mother raised me to have this thing called taste and an appreciation for good storytelling. Soap operas? Don't count for either."
He chuckled.
"Ouch. Harsh."
We kept talking for another half an hour or so, slipping from topic to topic, but we mostly stayed on lighthearted subjects, and I was okay with that. He didn't probe deeply on anything I was less willing to talk about, and I didn't try asking about anything I thought would be a landmine for him. I was tempted to ask about his Trigger Event — it seemed only fair, since he'd probably heard mine from Piggot during the fiasco with Vista — but I decided against it, because it felt like it would sour the rest of the day.
It could wait for another time, I concluded. Deep and abiding traumas, the sort so bad that they had shaped you into the person you were, weren't the sort of thing you brought up on the first date.
After that, we spent another hour or two swimming some more, but the pool had begun to empty already, and it was really more of a lazy kind of thing than the fun and games we'd been having before. The younger kids had already gone, and their families with them, and so had some of the other teenagers and couples.
We called it quits around eight o'clock, showered to wash off the chlorine and whatever else might have been in the pool water, and once both Dennis and I had gotten dressed, we headed back out to the parking lot together. Sam trailed behind us, far enough to keep us in sight, but close enough to supervise, if she needed to.
Dennis, who had taken his own car here, walked me back to Sam's rental. We stopped by the trunk; the sun had set, but it wasn't quite fully dark, and I could see him clearly as I turned to face him.
All in all, the day hadn't been as bad as I was afraid it could have been. Not perfect, by any stretch. But good, and good enough that I didn't regret it.
"I had fun today, Dennis," I told him quietly.
He grinned. "Does that mean there's gonna be a next time?"
I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I gathered up my courage, put aside any hesitation or worries or any concerns that might get in the way, and I leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.
It was barely more than a peck. Softer, slower, longer, but it was chaste and uncomplicated, and there was nothing more to it than that. But when I pulled away, the ghost of a goofy grin was still curling at the corners of his mouth.
"Let's get through tomorrow, first," I said. "Then, if nothing goes wrong and we both make it through…we'll talk about whether or not there's going to be a next time. Okay?"
"You know," he said lowly, full of promise, "I'm going to hold you to that."
I just had to hope he'd get the chance to.
— o.0.O.O.0.o —
Here's the breath of fresh air, before we step into the meat grinder. A moment for everyone to relax, before we get to the big fight and everything devolves into action and stress and rollercoasters of every kind but the literal.
Let me reiterate: no, this does not mean that Dennis and Taylor are the finalized pairing for this story. That might never get ironed out until the epilogue, because it's just so much of a secondary concern. It does mean that Dennis has something of a leg up, though.
If you want to support me as a writer so I can pay my bills, I'm on P A treon (p a treon . com (slash) James_D_Fawkes), and if P a treon is too long term, you could buy me a ko-fi (ko-fi . com (slash) jamesdfawkes).
Or if you want to commission something from me, check out my Deviant Art page to see my rates.
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