by Sarah Biglow
“Are you calling me stupid?” she snapped.
“Absolutely not. But, neither of us are scientists. So trying to understand the mechanics of what your mother did seems pointless. What are you hoping to find?”
“The reason,” she said quietly.
“If you want to know that, you could just ask her.”
Tina let out a bitter laugh. “Right because she’s been so open and forthcoming up to this point.”
“She told you that you’d have access to everything you wanted. Has she lied about that?”
Tina averted her gaze and fiddled with a few strands of her bright blue hair. Beside her, the keyboard started to smolder. She really should spend less time being an angsty teenager and learn how to focus her abilities or else she was going to seriously hurt someone. “I just can’t figure out why we all got the powers that we did.”
“Maybe it’s just random. Genetic experiments don’t exactly come with a detailed instruction manual,” I said.
“This whole program has a purpose she’s not telling us about. I can feel it. So yes, there has to be a reason,” she snapped.
I pulled out my phone and tapped a couple of apps. Maybe I could start nudging her in the right direction without being too obvious about it. “Hang on, I found something that might be of interest to you. I just sent it over.”
She glared at me, but pulled up her own phone, immediately engrossed in what had just popped up in her email inbox. Her finger scrolled through the text and she looked up at me. “So my father was a mad scientist and he left my mother holding the bag. I already knew he was an asshole. He left his pregnant wife and just disappeared. What does this prove?”
“That maybe you’re right and there is a reason that isn’t clear. If you’ll excuse me I need to go back to the bakery, because someone ate my breakfast.” I left Tina to ponder her parents’ motives in creating genetically modified children.
I stood in line, my stomach rumbling loudly, when I felt someone literally breathing down my neck. Getting in my personal space when I’m hungry is a sure way to get burned—Literally. Without the gloves to help channel my pyrotechnics, my flames were prone to leap out of control. I spun, my left index finger was already growing warm, only to find Declan standing there. “Jesus, don’t sneak up on a guy like that.”
“I wasn’t sneaking. I was standing in line like a normal person. You’re the one about to turn into a blow torch.”
The surprise at his appearance threw my concentration and I had to consciously will the flames to recede back into my skin. I shuffled forward in line while still facing him. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you. Here.”
“Well, you said see you around.” He gestured with his good arm. “I think this qualifies.”
“Yeah, it does. How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Lucky guess,” he answered with a sheepish grin.
Something told me Tina had hacked my phone without me noticing. Whether she’d managed it this morning or some other time wasn’t clear. She would end up on the wrong side of the law without a way to wiggle free one of these days. What was obvious, she’d given Declan my location. Which begged the question why? “How are you feeling?”
“Like a tiny piece of hot metal ripped through me. But, you know, better I think. It doesn’t hurt as much,” he answered in a hushed tone.
I glanced at the two people behind him, both with earbuds in, eyes glued to their phones. “That’s probably the narcotics,” I offered and scooted up another spot in line.
“Nah. I took some last night but I think they wore off a while ago. Haven’t taken any more.”
“Maybe you’ve got a higher tolerance for pain than we thought.”
“Maybe. So … uh, what are you doing?”
I couldn’t help, but smile. “Getting breakfast. What are you doing?”
“I meant today.”
“No big plans. Pining over this hot guy I know, pouring my deepest secrets into my diary. The usual. Why, is there something I should be doing?” Before he could answer, the person in front of me moved down to wait for their order. The barista looked at me bleary eyed and confused. “Yeah, I’m back.” I said. “I’ll take another chocolate croissant.”
“They must be made with crack or something,” Declan whispered.
“I made the mistake of going near Tina.”
“That would do it,” he agreed as the barista came back with my croissant. I handed over a five-dollar bill and waited for my change.
I stepped away and didn’t hear what he ordered. I’d intended to take my food and go, but he approached me with a plate of cheese Danish, a muffin, and an actual mug of coffee. I took his tray from him before he could protest.
“It looks like they’ve got some tables outside,” I said.
He followed mutely after me until we were sitting at the table farthest from the entrance. In fact, thanks to some decorative hedges, we were pretty well hidden from passing pedestrians and even other customers. “So, what’s the real reason you tracked me down here? Somehow I doubt it would be to carb load.”
“I wanted to say thanks for helping with my parents last night.” He kept his gaze laser focused on the food in front of him.
“I didn’t do much of anything. I told you they’d handle it fine.”
“I don’t think my mom wants me to leave the house. I sort of snuck out this morning. Maybe they were hoping I was invincible, too.”
“Believe me, I’ve been there. The first time my parents saw what my powers actually were, I thought my dad was going to douse me in flame retardant foam.”
“They didn’t know about the whole pyro thing?”
I shook my head, but realized he couldn’t see the gesture. “I think it’s luck of the draw. They knew their kid would be different but they didn’t know how.”
He went quiet, studying the muffin wrapper on his plate as if it held the meaning of the universe. I knew there was more to this than his surface commentary about his parents’ reaction to his injury. I lacked the power to coax it out of him which was as frustrating as hell. “I uh, need to tell you something,” he finally said, his voice barely audible.
“I’m listening.”
He glanced around, as if fearful we were being watched. He scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned in as much as his injured arm would allow. “I know you like me. I know I act like I don’t notice all the quips and looks, but I do. I don’t get why you’re interested but it’s pretty obvious.”
“I’m guessing that’s not the part you wanted to tell me,” I said.
“I’m not like you. I’m not gay.”
Oh, how I wanted to dissuade him of that notion. But I wasn’t about to dictate how he defined his sexuality. I assumed he was going somewhere with this line of thought and I feared it would be the direction I’d been dreading.
“I like girls … and guys. I guess that means I’m bisexual. That’s kind of the first time I’ve said that out loud.”
I stared at him. Of all the things I’d envisioned when he started in with essentially his version of ‘we need to talk,” coming out was not anywhere near the top of the list. Crushing my hopes of a chance or telling me he was going to complain of harassment to Lena ranked higher than bearing such a private part of himself to me. “That’s a lot more common than you’d think. And there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I act like you annoy me. And well, sometimes you do. But maybe it’s time I actually admit that there’s something there. An attraction or whatever.” He squirmed in his chair, the look on his face telegraphing how foreign the admission felt when voiced aloud.
“You’ve never been in a relationship with a guy?” I guessed.
“No.”
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I’d be honored to chaperone your first foray into the wonderful world of men.”
Chapter Five
Declan
I should have insisted we do dinner yesterday. Less time f
or me to lose my nerve and just bail on the whole thing. What was I thinking asking him out? This wasn’t me. Was it? The tap on my window caught me off guard and I jerked my bad shoulder awkwardly trying to put on a shirt. Tina poked her head over the sill, gestured for me to lift the sash and invite her in. I sighed and slid the window open, giving her license to enter.
“I’m kind of busy,” I said and fiddled with the buttons down the front of my shirt.
“Clearly. Who is the lucky girl?” she prodded and smacked my right hand out of the way, doing the buttons deftly.
“Not someone you know,” I lied. It was one thing to have the resident empath in on my secret. I wasn’t ready for Tina to know the truth, yet. Something told me she’d take great offense. After all, for four long years she’d been pining after both Spencer and I with no luck. I preferred my girls less alternative and controlling.
“Did you know my father was conducting illegal experiments on us?” she said and tossed herself onto the bed.
“What?”
“I read an article from the local paper from before I was born. He was defrauding people or whatever and playing God. Sounds like a real nutjob. Now, I guess my mother’s left to pick up the pieces.”
“Why are you telling me this right now, Tina?”
“I just thought someone else should know. I mean, I guess it gives us an idea why someone’s been targeting us. Maybe we weren’t supposed to know where we came from and now they’re trying to shut us up.”
“Look, you can go down your rabbit hole of family drama all you want, okay? But do it with someone else. I’m going to be late.”
She glared at me. “Who else am I supposed to talk to?”
I couldn’t resist an eye roll. “I don’t know. Spencer or Marisol? They’re both pretty good listeners.”
That caught her attention and she sat upright, her gaze narrowed at me. “How would you know?”
“Because I talk to people instead of pretending they don’t exist until they’re useful,” I snapped.
“You are such a dick, Declan,” she huffed and stormed back to the window. She flipped me off as she climbed out.
I returned the gesture even though she was long out of view and eased the window shut before heading downstairs. My parents sat side by side on the sofa in the living room, watching the news. Thankfully the news cycle in town was short and the botched bank robbery was already old news.
“I’m going out,” I announced, leaving the details vague.
“Don’t be out too late,” Mom replied.
I gave them a wave before heading out into the mid-summer afternoon sunshine. It could get sweltering during the summer, but we’d gotten lucky to have a pretty mild one this year. I walked slowly down the street, keeping an eye out for approaching cars. I stopped three blocks from my house just as Henry’s truck pulled up.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t even drive by your place,” he commented as I climbed in. He gestured to my sling-less arm. “I thought the doctor said to keep that immobilized for a few weeks.”
“I don’t think I need it. I mean it’s still kind of sore but it feels like I’m already getting my range of motion back,” I answered. It was partly true. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it had two days ago. And my range of motion was returning. But I didn’t want to look like a loser showing up to some fancy restaurant with a bum arm.
“That’s impressive,” Henry commented and pulled an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street.
“I guess I’ll be back out in the field with Spencer pretty soon,” I said.
“Sounds like it.”
I caught an odd look on his face as he turned to look at me. I couldn’t tell what it was and he didn’t seem inclined to share his thoughts. Did he think I had a thing for Spencer? “You know he’s got a girlfriend, right?” I blurted before I could stop myself.
He gave a nervous laugh and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m well aware. I didn’t think you liked him or anything.”
“Oh, good,” I said, relieved. I looked at our surroundings as we left Everston behind. Where are we going?
Henry grew quiet as we continued along the highway for a solid fifteen minutes before turning off into the parking lot of what was apparently a rustic bar and grille. He parked and climbed out, leaving me sitting immobile in the passenger seat.
“Come on.” He called, flashing me a confident smile.
After another moment of indecision, I left the solitude of the truck behind and followed him inside. The interior matched the promised description of the place perfectly. The walls and floor were hewn logs, sanded down until they were smooth. Simple metal light fixtures hung above our heads, casting a warm glow over everything, including the hostess in cowboy boots.
“Table for two,” Henry said, keeping his distance from me and his hands in his pockets.
Her gaze flitted between the two of us for the briefest of seconds before she scooped up two menus and said, “Right this way.”
I trailed Henry by a few paces, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention as we passed other people eating dinner. No one seemed to notice us and the hostess sat us in a back corner. I took the seat against the wall, leaving Henry to have his back to the rest of the dining room. He didn’t seem to mind. I watched him as he settled into his chair, taking the opportunity to really give him the once over. Like I would to any girl I brought on a date. His usually floppy hair was slicked back and he wore a pale green shirt that accentuated his eyes. The warm lighting turned his dark skin almost bronze. There was no denying he was a good-looking guy.
“You done silently objectifying me?” he said with a smile.
“I wasn’t …” I trailed off. That’s exactly what I was doing. “Sorry.”
“We’ve all been there and done it. Some of us have better practice at covering it up. Don’t think I didn’t notice how tight that shirt is. You’ve got muscles,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
I was suddenly grateful for the lighting. It wouldn’t be quite as obvious when my cheeks burned bright in embarrassment. I hadn’t put a ton of thought into what I was wearing. But, as I surveyed myself, he was right. The shirt did show off the muscles that came both from my powers and my years of conditioning for wrestling. “So, what’s good to eat here?” I hoped a change of topic would make me feel less uncomfortable.
“They’ve got pretty good steaks if that’s your thing. Their seafood is decent, too. Though I’d stay away from the scallops. They always undercook them.”
“Good to know.” I busied myself with reading the menu so I wouldn’t have to look at Henry. How many guys have sat across from him, getting the same menu suggestions?
Our waiter came by and dropped off glasses of water before hovering beside our table in silence, eager for us to order. Finally, Henry looked over and said, “We still need a few minutes.”
“Right,” the waiter said and slunk off to tend to a nearby table.
“I should also mention the staff are a little uh … clingy,” Henry stage whispered to me.
“You bring all your dates here?” I asked, setting the menu aside. Time to take the leap and actually treat this like a date.
“Nope. Just the ones I want to impress.” He took a sip of water. “So, did I finally wear you down or did something else change your mind about giving this a try?”
Did I lie and stroke his ego or did I tell the truth? Was I even sure I could separate the two? “Both. A friend pointed out that if I feel like this about guys, I should see what it’s all about. And you know, you made it painfully obvious you were a willing guinea pig.”
“Not the most romantic of reasons but I’ll take it.” He stopped talking as the waiter returned with a determined expression.
We weren’t going to get away with not ordering this time. So, after flipping through the menu one last time, we placed our orders. When we were finally free of the hovering waitstaff, Henry propped his elbows on the table and rested
his chin in his hands. “So, I’m going to ask and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but when did you know that you were attracted to both guys and girls?”
Everything in me said to just deflect and not answer the question. It was too personal for a first date. And I hadn’t even shared it with Marisol. But I was not a coward. If he could own his truth, I could start on the path to owning mine. “Honestly, it was around the time my powers showed up. I had just tried out for the wrestling team freshman year and I saw some of the seniors working out in the gym. And you know … it kind of turned me on. I have no idea if the two are connected, though. And that scares me.”
“What do you mean?” he probed.
I exhaled. “I spent four years not knowing where these powers came from. Now, I know that they were created in some lab or whatever. Someone went in and poked around in my DNA. What if they made me like this when they messed with whatever genes give us these abilities?”
“I’d love to say you’re worrying over nothing. But, I can’t. Sexuality is as much genetic as anything else. And turning different sequences on or off could play a part. But, even if it did, does it really matter? It’s who you are.”
“But what if this wasn’t supposed to be who I am? What if I wasn’t like this if they’d just done nothing and left things alone?”
“We can’t possibly know that. And we certainly can’t change it now.” He lowered his hands and made a move to reach me. I pulled my hand away before he could make contact.
“Maybe not, but it doesn’t mean I can’t wonder if these powers messed me up somehow.”
“Just so you know, I didn’t start flirting with you because you had powers or because they might have had some small influence on your sexuality.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I thought you were hot and I wanted to get to know you. The guy under the tough guy exterior. I want to know what he likes and doesn’t like. I still want those things and I hope you said yes to a date with me because that’s what you want, too.”