“Batman was a rich guy and Superman was an alien.”
She blinked at him.
“They didn’t have Spidey sense.” Doll eyes, blink, blink, she wanted more. “Spiderman was a kid when he got his powers, he was in school. He didn’t always do the right thing. He was persecuted.” Blink, blink. “He’s a functioning neurotic.”
Down went those eyelids, the lashes fanning out. Her cheeks went razor edge on the breadth of her smile and her laugh came from somewhere tropical and lush.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever be cold again.
4. Strangers
“What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others.”— Confucius
He’d said he was a wimp at heart. But he’d punched his way through his teen years with Spiderman as his idol. And the man from Tara, the foster kid who couldn’t read, admitted to being rich and successful. He might’ve made an interesting interview. He was a genuinely engaging detention companion. This could’ve been so much worse. And if this wasn’t a cold, dull room, and she wasn’t passing through, it could’ve been something more.
“Is there a Mrs Man from Tara?” It felt like a useful slice of information for her awkwardly fizzing hormones to have.
“Ah, no.”
“Why not?”
“Dive right in there.” He didn’t like the question but he didn’t squirm or break eye contact. “Speaks to the whole I might regret working too hard thing. You?”
“I might regret working too hard.” She said it quickly, and watched him closely. He stacked the crockery, pushed it to the far edge of the table. He was a poker player and gave nothing away.
“Must be my turn for a question. Are you in love?” he said.
“I just told you.” She laughed at him. “You’re not very good at this are you? You wasted another question.” Either that or this was a bluff, a negotiating tactic.
“Answer the question or take a dare,” he said. It was an order, in a tone that was used to being obeyed. The command coming as easily as his breathing did.
“You wouldn’t?”
He folded his arms, and rocked into the back of his chair. He was an immoveable object. He so would.
“I’ve never been in love or met anyone I wanted to stay with in a forever sense.”
“Do you believe in forever?”
“That’s two questions. Some forevers. The bond between some parents and children. Some couples get lucky. But overall, no. I believe in making the best of the moment.”
He uncrossed his arms, looked less hard-baked. He seemed to like that answer. But she couldn’t have him feeling too comfortable, too in control. “I get two turns. Tell me about your first kiss?”
He spluttered a laugh, one hand going to his hair and combing through it. “We’re not about to play spin the bottle are we?”
“We’ll stick with truth or dare.” The thought of playing spin the bottle with Tara was a hot tickle to cold bones, not enough to want to remove her hands from the pockets of his jacket though.
His eyes went down to the table. He groaned. “Miss Fredrick.”
“If Miss Fredrick is a family friend or a neighbour, and this is about a kiss on the cheek, you are in serious dare territory.”
His eyes came up, no hint of embarrassment. He was still in the driver’s seat. “I assume you want the full adults only version. I’m skipping minor skirmishes behind the bike shed. I assume your next question will be about who I first had sex with. I’m giving you the two-part X-rated response.”
He looked completely serious. He might’ve been about to explain an international export regulation.
“I was fifteen, she was twenty-four. She was stacked. Long red hair. My year ten history teacher. I liked history, it was all about stories I could memorise. She kissed me in the classroom after she gave me a D for an essay on The Great Depression. Softening the blow. She wasn’t thinking clearly. I was angry. I was lonely. I wasn’t soft. She put her tongue in my mouth. I was in her bed that night and every night for the next six months. She still failed me. Bitch,” he finished on a grunted laugh.
He was sitting easy, one bent arm resting on the table edge, but there was something in his expression—a hardness, the brawler in him challenging her to recoil. It made him more intriguing. “That answer your question, Lois Lane?”