I May be Cold, but You are Hot

Chapter Eight: One Hot Hero

Colt's POV

"Look at this suit, Stretch," I say, holding up a dark blue suit with a plaid tie.

"I like it! Where did you get it?" He extends his arms and takes the suit away to get a better look at it.

"I think I bought it for a dinner or something like that. I can't remember," I furrow my brow, trying to remember why I got the suit.

"It's strange that I've never seen it. Usually I'm the one that remembers everything. I mean, you're always out saving the world and stuff, so it makes sense that you don't remember everything." He gives me the suit back with a forlorn look on his face.

"You help me! You have two superpowers, and one them is your memory," I tell him, grinning.

Stretch has depression and anxiety, and he's always refused medicine and therapists. I do my best to take care of him because I understand. It's the immortality. Some people, like Stretch, have trouble coping with it. He's seen so many people die, and he loved some of them. For the past few years, he's hardly left the house. He only leaves to shop or help me save the city. I feel bad for him, but I don't know what I can do other than be his closest friend.

"Whatever, Colt," he rolls his eyes at me. "Try on that suit. I want to see what it looks like on," he walks out to give me privacy.

I sigh and shake my head. I put the suit on and walk out to show Stretch. "Do you like it?" I ask him with a grin.

"You look nice. Go fix your messy hair, and then you'll be ready to go." He stretches his arm up and ruffles me hair. He wouldn't be able to do that if he wasn't elastic because I'm almost a foot taller than him.

"Alright. Aren't you going help me?" I ask.

"I guess you could use my expertise. Sit down, and I'll get the supplies. Do you mind if I trim your hair a little? It's getting out of control," Stretch looks at me judgingly.

"Sure. I don't care," I respond rolling my eyes.

Stretch takes forever doing my hair. I'm glad I started getting ready way ahead of time instead of waiting until last minute. When he's finally done, I look in the mirror. My hair is a lot shorter than it was but still long.

"Thank you," I say, "It looks amazing."

"No problem. I told you I'm a great stylist. I can't give you much advice since he's the one picking you up. I would tell you to get him flowers and chocolate, but he should get that for you. Also, he should come knock on the door instead of honking the horn or texting— "

"Okay, Stretch. I get it. He has a lot of responsibilities, and I don't. I guess I'll just wait until he gets here. Oh, and uh, sorry for interrupting," I say sheepishly.

"Don't be awkward. There's something for you to do."

"Well, looks like I'm going to fail," I say. Then, there's a knock on the door. "I bet that's him! Wish me luck, friend." I head for the door, but Stretch stops me.

"Excuse me, but I am going to meet him," he says smugly.

"You're picking right now to meet Grant? I can't believe this." I stop talking right before he opens the door.