Super?

Say You'll Never Let Me Go

       We eat lunch at the mall and spend a few hours horsing around, petting cats in the pet store and jokingly trying on the most ridiculous outfits we can find for each other. A week ago, if I'd seen myself right now, I probably would've thrown up in my mouth a little bit. But really, having a friend isn't as bad as I imagined it to be. (God, that sounds so cheesy.)
       When we finally pull up to the house, it's 4 pm. Only two hours until what will probably be one of the most miserable moments of my life. When we get out, Dave pops the trunk and I walk to the back to pick up the garment bag the dress came in. That's when I hear someone's throat-clearing. And it's not Dave's.
       "Holy shit! Can't you just announce yourself?" I sputter when I spin around and come face-to-face to Bloodhound. He doesn't smile, much to my surprise. His tan face looks abnormally pale and his icy eyes flicker back and forth with a worry that's unlike him.
       "I can't stay long. I just want to let you know. I can't help you," he whispers. Dave comes up beside me, frowning.
       "What are you talking about?" My heart slowly sinks down to my knees, and my mouth gets dry. "You can't just--- you said you'd help me find him." I feel tears threatening to creep up in my eyes. I forcibly blink them back. Dave places a firm hand on my shoulder.
       "Why can't you help her anymore?" Dave asks, his voice low and taking on what he thinks is a threatening tone. "We can pay you-"
       "It's not about the money. It's not even about the boy. Let's just say that your little friend, Reggie, well... He's rather convincing. I'm sorry. It's not personal. But if I continue to help you..." His voice drifts off. And even though I feel like my heart is close to crumbling, I can't blame him. I also know how convincing Reggie can be.
       "I get it," I whisper softly, hugging my arms across my chest and looking down at the pavement. Dave opens his mouth to say something, but I raise a hand to stop him.
       "I hope you find that boy. I really do. I'm sorry. Best of luck to you, Maya," he tells me sadly. Then he pulls his hood over his face and takes off running into the trees.
       "How did he know your name?" Dave asks me. I just shrug. It's Bloodhound. You can't hide anything from a guy like that.
       "Just when we're getting so close..." I feel tears spring to my eyes again. I don't try to stop them from falling. "That's what Sebastian was apologizing for. He knew."
       "I'm so sorry, Maya..." Dave's hand grazes my arm.
       "Damn it!" I scream, and kick the back of his car. The Chevy rolls up on the pavement about a foot. I dissolve into frustrated sobs. "We were so close. Of course Reggie has to go and ruin everything," I snarl, burying my hands in my hair and clenching my fists. "Damn it. I can't- I can't take it anymore. Every step I try and take, Reggie knocks me back two. I can't do anything without him ruining it." I unclench my fists, wipe my wrist across my eyes, and swallow hard. "I'm sorry. This was such a beautiful afternoon... You bought me that nice dress... It's been so long since I've felt that happy."
       "Hey," Dave says softly. He pulls me close to him, and even though I resist at first, I slowly hug him back. I bury my face in his shirt and close my eyes, waiting for my sobs to cease. "Reggie can't ever take you away from us, ok? You'll always have us," he promises me.
       "Don't say that. You'll jinx it," I murmur back without opening my eyes. "Who knows what Reggie will do. He's such a fricking psychopath. I bet Gia's in on this Let's-Make-Maya-Miserable campaign, too, with all of my luck."
       "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together. You don't have to be alone anymore. You got two awesome sidekicks, 'kay?"
       "'Kay," I reply. He holds me for a few more moments and then steps back, looking down at me with a mischievous face.
       "Let's get you ready for Crow, eh?" He grins ear-to-ear when I respond by punching him in the shoulder. "You don't think he's going to try something, do you? Maybe we actually should sew some hidden pockets on the inside of that dress," Dave muses, thoughtfully rubbing his thumb across his lips.
       "Dave, I have superpowers. I can turn myself into a seven-foot tall gargoyle if I wanted to, I have super-strength, and I'm pretty epic in general, so... I don't think a knife is going to be necessary," I say. Dave just rolls his eyes at my cockiness.
       "But seriously? Other than being able to take a punch and shapeshifting into a crow, what can this guy do?" He picks up the garment bag and slams the trunk shut, peering over his shoulder and me and waiting for a reply.
       "Most villains keep their powers secret, so their opponent can't get the upper hand. But he can phase through objects, or something like that- I'm pretty sure. Sometimes he comes into buildings and I swear the door doesn't move. Either that or super-speed. Which could be problematic. I've never gotten into a fight with the guy- not one where we used our powers, anyway. Not for lack of wanting to," I inform him. I take the bag from him and we both walk up to the house.
        "Are you going to be safe tonight, though? I mean, I've seen you beat him up and everything, but what if it's a trap?" Dave asks me, opening the door and holding it open for me.
       "There's like a 50% chance this is a trap. Either that or he wants a rematch with that kiss. The guy's honestly bipolar, so I'm prepared for that possibility. He's Crow. What else can I say?" I give Dave a lopsided smile. "Don't you worry about me. I can hold my own, I swear. And I won't order any drinks but water. Promise."
       "Are you trying to get sober?" Dave asks, seeming impressed. He's not as bad of a drinker as I am, but he still goes to bars quite a bit after work. He knows how hard it is to pass up a drink, I suppose.
       "I don't know. After that one night..." I don't have to finish that sentence, because... well... he was there. "I'm too busy for a drink, anyway." Dave nods sympathetically.
       "I know. C'mon. Let's get you all dolled up," he says, poking a finger into my side and making me yelp. "I think we have some of Emma's makeup still. That's Ollie's sister- she stays here sometimes. That's who's clothes you wore when you first stayed here. She's very forgetful, evidently. That's how you know she and Ollie are related. Mm, yes. I think we have some mascara, some blush..."
       "Somebody kill me now."
-
       The minute the digital clock on my nightstand strikes 6:00, there's a knocking on the front door.
       "Well," Dave says, "the guy might be mentally unstable, but at least he's punctual." I give Dave a dirty look and take my sweet time walking down the stairs. (Mostly because I'm trying to annoy Crow, but partly because if I tried to walk too fast in this dress and these heels down a staircase, I think I might just trip and break most of my bones again.)
       I open the door slowly, and my eyes widen when I him waiting on the other side. He's trimmed his hair and he's wearing a black suit to match his brilliant personality. But he's also carrying a wrapped bouquet of white peonies, which he hands to me. The plastic is crinkly in my arms.
       "They're your favorite, if I remember right. That's what you told me, anyway." He gives me a lopsided grin. Of course I told you. I told you everything. Now I wish more than anything I could take it all back.
       "I can't believe you remembered, Crow," I tell him evenly, trying to keep things civil while we're still in Dave and Ollie's home. I peer past him and see a shiny black Camaro waiting in the driveway. Of course.
       "Please. Call me Tate. No masks, remember?" He steps back and gives me a not-so-subtle once-over. "You look beautiful."
       "I know," I reply shortly, not one for cliches. I turn when I hear steps coming down the stairs. Dave steps up beside me.
       "If you even think about hurting her, I will figure out how to use our grill and I'll burn little char marks over your pretty little face," he threatens Crow- er- Tate.
      "Not as scary as you think it sounds, big guy," I whisper to him, grinning and patting him on the shoulder. I hand him Tate's bouquet, and Tate smiles uncomfortably.
       "I have no intentions of hurting her, sir," he tells Dave awkwardly. "Shall we go?" Oh, look at him. Suddenly suave and polite. God, I hate him.
       "Whatever," I roll my eyes. I give Dave a quick hug goodbye, murmuring a promise to stay safe in his ear, and then I'm walking out into the driveway with Tate.
       He goes around to open the door for me, but I'm already getting inside. He awkwardly walks back around and gets into the driver's seat. When we we're both buckled in and ready to go, he looks at me.
       "So. You have some interesting friends," he starts. I stare straight ahead, refusing to look at him.
       "Just drive," I tell him through gritted teeth. "The only reason I'm doing this is because you basically blackmailed me, not because I want to strike up a friendship or anything else with you, ok? So just drive. Let's get this night over with."
       "I didn't want to force you into this. But I suppose it was the only way to get you to have dinner with me, as pathetic as it sounds. I just... I have a lot of things I need to apologize for, and I'd like to start by buying you dinner." He gives me a sad smile. I meet his eyes with a deadly glare of my own.
       "You know I'll never forgive you. So don't try, okay? It's a waste of both of our times. And for God's sake, start the car." I press my lips together in a thin line and watch the house as he finally begins to back out of the driveway.
       "You really do look beautiful," Tate says after only a few minutes of driving down the road. I thunk my head back on the headrest, rolling my eyes up to the roof of the car in a Dear God help me sort of way.
       "Don't start. You might actually trick me into thinking you're trying to reform yourself into an alright kind of guy," I laugh thinly. His shoulders slump and he actually looks disappointed as he continues to drive in silence.
       "What if I told you I was trying to? Become a better person. At least to you," he says quietly, not looking at me but staring at the road. His dark eyes don't look so beady as much as they just look sad. No. What am I thinking? I can never trust this guy. No matter what he says. I can't fall for his carefully applied charm.
       "I would say go eff yourself," I tell him politely. He makes a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and continues to drive, fiddling with his tie in one hand.
       "Well, I'm not giving up on you just yet," he says lightly. "All I ask of you is tonight. A nice dinner. Try to act like you don't hate me," he adds.
       "That'll be hard," I retort with deadpan. He looks down again and sighs softly to himself, like we're in a fricking romance movie.
       "If you still hate me after tonight, I'll let you go. I promise. But I don't think I can live with myself if I don't at least try to apologize," he says, his face pleading with me.
       "I don't know how you live with yourself, period." I gaze back at him, eyes hard. "And I think I'll always hate you, no matter what you try to do or say. But I'll give you tonight. Let's see if you can try to convince me. After that, we're done."