The Debut

by Michele | Apr 16, 2017 | Chronicles

Conner : It isn’t easy being a super powered person in this world. It all started in the good ol’ forties, when the War was winding down and people were just starting to think about what would be the next step in the arms race. Nuclear power was in it’s infancy, but it had already been accomplished and America won. Just ask Japan. What or should I say ‘Who’ was next?

The Justice Society had gone in to the Great War as unknowns, but came out of it heroes. The spotlight was on them, yet as soon as the ticker tape parades ended they were under a very different microscope. Eventually their fame faded and they were forced in to the shadows out of a sense of self-preservation. Nuclear Weapons gave a country power, but only so much as mutual annihilation would allow. There had to be a next step and that proved to be right in front of the politicians faces.

At first it began as nothing more than observation. The Senate created a policy allowing for the monitoring of meta-humans for the purpose of collecting data in order to properly plan for the contingency of ‘What if?’ What if the next Atom was a bad guy? So began the ball rolling. As time passed, the politicians were able to slowly put focus not upon the many good deeds, but draw out the drama of the few bad. Giving life to the one thing that drives Humanity most: Fear.

Enter the Superman. Loved as a Champion. Favored as a deity. His story was the tipping point. As with any great Hero, you must have a villain. Superman had many. Each one nastier, trickier and more deadly than the last. With each Victory, Superman created the momentum that would power his greatest adversary to victory. My Father. Alexander Luthor. Better known as President of the United States of America. For Life.

Each battle Superman fought, and won, still came with casualties. Luthor highlighted each of them. He became the Voice of the Voiceless. Framing himself as a Hero in his own right, he battled for control over Metas as if they were any gun. Still Superman persevered. The adulation of many kept him above reproach. Until one day he simply …left.

No one knows why. Although the story that the Daily Planet told is that he chose to leave before he was forced to pick between being Superman and being a weapon for the government. Any government. They sold the story that he would return one day. When the time was right and the world was ready to accept rise above the pettiness of politicians seeking power. If the story is true? Then little did Superman know that he had played right in to the hands of his greatest enemy.

Free of Superman’s vigilance, Luthor was able to effect change. Preying upon the fear of what might happen without Superman to protect them? He empowered an Agency meant only to watch, to observe and catalog to act as a tool with which to build an army of super powered soldiers. Furthermore he did not need the Superman to bend his knee to the authority of the United States. Not when he had his very own Superman growing in a vat beneath Capitol Hill.

“Come on. Keep up. And stop pouting. This,” pointing toward Cassandra Sandsmark, but not at her so much as the outfit that she is wearing, “Was your idea. Oh don’t even try it. All that talk about the good I could do with my powers. You know damned well that I am not ever gonna do that without the proper motivation.”

“Blah blah blah, with great power comes even greater responsiblaaaaaaaaaagh…… your ass in spandex motivates me. Not some loser quote out of a poorly written comic book. Besides. What else were you going to do tonight? Sit on the couch and beg your mom to let you skip your Senior Year, to go on the big dig in Khandaq again for the six thousandth time?”

Cassie : I missed a lot of the hubbub about Superman. As much as you can really miss something like that, I mean. He was global news. But there’s a degree of frenzy that comes when you’re dealing with a Hometown Hero, when you actually have the possibility of seeing the Man of Steel during your daily commute, or maybe being part of the fallout of something yourself. He was gone by the time that Mom and I settled here in Metropolis, in hindsight I can’t help but wonder if maybe that was part of the reason she chose it. The timing and the location. Or maybe it was just removing a last hesitation she might have had, because the rest is too easy to explain. The Museum she is posted with is prestigious, the amount of ancient material there pretty astonishing. I only had two years left of ‘high school age’ so that too was kind of a now or never situation if she really had wanted to continue the grand scheme to force me through the high school experience.

It’s not that bad. Really. High school. I doubt St. Mary’s is really a true experience for American High School, more like greatly amplified stakes and bitchery. If one thing’s true here that I’m sure is also true in public school though, it’s the fact that if you run the place? It’s a lot easier on your sanity. It’s not exactly what I’d wanted, I had wanted to just get it over with, with minimum participation from me. But here we are. Not literally though.

Where we are right now is something entirely different. With nothing to do with why I’d originally just wanted to blend in. Now it’s just that much more important. There’s absolutely no fitting in right now, with anyone except the boy I’m with. Normal people don’t wear spandex. Not unless they’re at the gym or making questionable wardrobe choices. And I’m fairly sure this goes beyond spandex. Plucking absently at the fabric on my hip is kind of an exercise in futility, it’s almost too tight to even pull at.

He’s right. I am pouting. Just a little. It happens anytime I get cornered into doing something I don’t really want to. And this time it really is my fault. I manage Conner. It’s like, a full time job. And sometimes all that expert managing means that I have to do something absolutely ridiculous like let him dress me up like a superhero, even though I spend 99% of my time making it look like I’m just what I should be. A normal, if smart and talented, teenager.

“I was not. I wouldn’t even have to skip it, I could pass all of the tests right now. People test out and graduate all the time. Some much younger than me, I mean. I’m practically underachieving for what I’m capable of.”

Giving up on messing with the red material, I let out a huff of air and plant my fists on my hips.

“And with the time difference, if the school thing is really her reason I can’t go, I could totally do both. It takes me almost as much time to get to school in the morning as it would to fly back and forth.”

For once, this round of ire isn’t really directed at Conner. He just happens to be here to hear it. I’m just grouchy, and it isn’t fair.

“Whatever. Lets just…do this…but. Really. This thing couldn’t have been cut higher?”

I don’t even try to tug the top of the ‘uniform’ up higher. I’ve tried a million times. It’s secure and not going to budge. Which is…good and bad for my self-esteem and sense of modesty.

Conner : “You know as well as I do that you’re not there to get an education from the professors,” because if there’s one thing anyone knows, if you’ve ever spoken to Cassie for more than a heartbeat, is that she’s smart and you don’t even have to ask her for her to tell you. “You’re there for the experience. Which, I might add, is why your Mother happens to love me.”

“I make you experience everything.”

There’s no blush. Why would I blush about stating the absolute truth. So what if there’s part of the experience(s) that should be mortifying. It isn’t to me. I’m pretty much oblivious to the social nicety of being abashed. It’s not my forte. But that gives Cassie something to do. She worries, a little too much, about what people think. Or how other people feel. In a way, it makes up for my sociopathic lack of the very same sense of ‘give a damn.’ Cassie cares about people, I care about Cassie.

The real problem for the two of us? Is that I’m not a sociopath. They lack the ability to care for social norms. In many cases they lack the ability to care for others. That’s not the case with me. I can feel all the emotions anyone else can. I just grew up in a holographic representation of this world. Where the programmers coded in things just to test my reactions. So much, so often, that once I was empowered with my abilities enough to recognize the world beyond the holograms? All I actually learned was how to numb myself to the world around me. I suppose that makes me something of a highly functional sociopath, with psychopathic tendencies, but.. whatever. That’s not what I am Today!

Today, I’m Superman. And what better place to come out of the proverbial super-closet?

Comicon.

“Also. How come it’s okay for you to use your Goddess Brain to graduate early? But you say it’s not okay for me to use my powers to read the test answers?” Oh, this is one of those perfect times when I’ve got her right where I want her. Because she can’t really argue with me on this. “Hey. We’ve been over this before. Can you prove you’re not super-smart because of good old fashion godbrain? Cheaters never prosper, right?”

With that I’m darting closer. Close enough, in fact, just to get my hand upon her’s in order to tug her out of the dressing room. Dressing Rooms, that are normally reserved for V.i.P types. Of which we are. Or rather, I am. I’m an invited guest after all. Here at my Dad’s request. He wants the world to see that America hasn’t lost it’s Big Gun. It’s all an act, that I wouldn’t be bothered with. If not for the girl next to me. She’s the only thing super about this Boy, really. That same tug that pulls her in to the air, sends us swooshing toward the entrance to the stage. Which leads out to an official looking press conference. All of whom are waiting for the big unveil.

They have no idea what’s coming. And neither does Cassie. Until we fly right through the big ‘curtain’ and the lights of cameras start to go off. “Golly. Your Mom is going to be so pissed.”

Cassie : “I can experience it, and still experience some other once in a lifetime things! I thought you wanted me to use my powers more. That would definitely be an exercise in flight practice. High speed flight practice.”

He’s not the one I need to convince though, we both know that. And if I’ve learned anything lately it’s that my Mother isn’t going to have her mind swayed unless she was already inclined in that direction anyway. She doesn’t seem to be this time, and I don’t like it. At all. The only other time she’s put her foot down like this was when she insisted on school in the first place. I’d always gotten to go on digs with her before. I’d always gotten to be there, and the fact that I’m not being allowed this time makes me more suspicious than sulky, to be honest.

“Yes, I can. Because Mom’s smarter than I am and she’s one hundred percent mortally normal. And even if there wasn’t that, I can’t help the brain. It was like this before the physical powers turned up, if it even is a power, and if you go by mythology there was a whole lot of pretty dumb Gods. And even if we ignore that, it’s active versus inactive cheating. You would consciously be taking someone else’s answers. And we both know you don’t need to.”

I started jabbing a finger into his chest at some point in the middle of that rant, and I hadn’t really meant to. Not like I’m going to hurt him, but again the arguing is more just a manifestation of my frustration. Something that the costume and where we are isn’t really helping. Now, him in costume? That’s something I’m on board with. I mean. Look at him. Then I realize I’m only really jabbing him in the chest because he’s gotten close enough for it, and that jabbing hand is all too easily grabbed and used to haul me out of the ‘safety’ of the dressing room. Out into ‘public’ in what’s more covering than my school uniform I suppose, but leaves nothing to the imagination because. Spandex.

Fine. We’ll go show off for the geeks in the area, pose for some pictures with people that think we’re dressed up and… oh…crap… we’re in the air? We’re in the air. Not a strange place for me, I can fly just as well as he can, but not in public. Not when anyone can see and certainly not through a curtain and straight into the flash of bulbs. Gods. I’m not sure which is happening faster, the color draining from my face, or it shooting back up into my cheeks.

“Oh. She’s…not the only one. Did you know about this?”

This. Right here. Is a rhetorical question. Duh. He knew. He planned and maneuvered the whole thing. Me asking the question means I know he knows and I want him to admit it.

Conner : “Are you asking if I actively knew or inactively suspected that this is what was out here?”

See this smile? You cannot fake this smile. It means that I’ve actually gotten the better of something for once. In the War of Words, this time. Honestly, I’m not even just thinking that. Cassie let herself get to the point of ranting. Once she does that it’s pretty easy to maneuver her, because despite being one of the smartest people I’ve ever met? Well, the truth is she manages to also be pretty trusting. Even when she knows better. Letting her rant is the key to getting her off balance, but first you have to get her to rant. I picked the topic that I did, because I’m all too aware of how much it bugs her.

Getting her dressed this way, on the other hand, was multi-purpose. It got her even more off balanced, but it also served to make her think we were going to do something at Comicon that would be innocent. We should blend in here. But right now? We very much don’t and at least one of us is all too happy with that.

“Because, if you really think about it? I actively knew there would be cameras and photographers at a comicon. But did I really, actively, know they would want take our picture? Not really.” There’s not even an effort to be humble about the smile on my face. Humble is for suckers. Another tug brings Cassie along, through the air, towards the podium. “At least not until I saw you fidget with the top on that suit…”

“But. Really. What else would I expect when my father booked a press conference to show off his new Superman?”

With a little quirk of the left eyebrow, I’m giving her what the reporters will later compare to the look Superman gave when trying to be encouraging, in the face of adversity. Cassie will know it differently though. This is the face I usually make just before suggesting we do something naughty in the restroom at School. Her school. But with a shrug, I take that final move towards the microphones.

Cape billowing for me. Blonde curls swirling for her. Uncharacteristically though, I’m not seizing the spotlight. I’m sharing it, even as I tap the mic nearest to insure it’s on before speaking. “Um. Hi. I’m the new Superman and this? I’ll let her introduce herself.”

This is the moment the Cassie has waited all of her life for. She just didn’t know it. Actually, come to think of it now. It’s also probably the moment I’m going to remember most for the look upon my girlfriend’s face.

Cassie : There’s a fairly predictable reaction that would normally come about when he makes a comment like that. Saved for those moments of smart-assery when I don’t truly have any good response to make, because he’s turned what I said back on me. It’d be double swift in delivery for the smirk he’s aiming at me. Normally? Right now I would have punched him in the shoulder, with a fair amount of oomph in the delivery, in the way I can’t exactly ‘jokingly’ punch anyone because I’d send them through a wall or break their shoulder into pulverized bone bits.

Except we’re on stage. In front of like, a billion people and cameras and I probably shouldn’t start this…whateverthisis… by punching my boyfriend. Not that they know he’s my boyfriend. Hmmmmmmm…

“You’re so full of crap.”

Hissed between my teeth at him, and it’s only all those great acting skills I’ve honed over the last year that keeps the expression of displeasure being very, very obvious. It’s not perfect though, I think the best I’m really managing beyond that is just looking startled. Which I am. We’ll pretend it’s all the cameras and flashing lights though, more than I would have expected for a comic book convention. Conner not thinking people want his picture on a normal day? I wouldn’t believe that. Thinking they wouldn’t want it when he’s dressed up? Bologna. But the part about Luthor and the press conference? Double bologna. With a side of mild concern. If it’s actually true that he’s wanting to show Conner off? Something’s happening. Or happened.

He’s put me on the spot, in more ways than one. I may have talked about him using his powers for good but this? Is not a moment I anticipated us having for a few years at the very least. What do I even call myself? For a moment, there’s a petty want to introduce myself as myself, just to get back at his father and all the questions that would raise. But it wouldn’t just be his parental figure that’d come into the crosshairs, and mine doesn’t have an army of lawyers and PR people.

So what do I call myself? His is so easy it’s practically cheating. He’s got the symbol, and a name to go with it. I can’t also be Super something, then I’m just the other half of his coin and I can come up with something better. I hope. So who am I? Cassie. High school student. Daughter. Demi-goddess, and apparent eighth born wonder of the modern world. Wonder. Wonder Girl.

No. No. Superman and Wonder Girl? I’d sound like his sidekick. His subordinate. And if we’re really starting this? Boy, we are not starting it that way. Maybe it’s my general grumpiness that lends the oomph and certainty to my voice when I step forward to the microphone.

“You can call me Wonder Woman.”

Conner : With Cassie at the microphone and my cape swishing behind me, almost offering some form of cover? I give her a super-speed pinch of the butt when she finally belts out her proclamation. It isn’t that I knew what she’d pick, but I did know what she wouldn’t go with. She’s called my Super Boy more than once. Even her Superboy. But we both know my Father didn’t have me created to be Superboy. I’m meant to be something more. Superman, but his Superman. Controlled. Used for the explicit purpose of showing the world that meta-humans are best served when controlled. Wielded like any other weapon. With her though? She could have gone with anything. Any number of homages to the Gods, to her Father. Something for her Mom even.

After another round of flash bulbs, digital flickers and the chorus of questions that are sent our way all at once? I settle on one of them. Raising a hand to call for some semblance of silence, in order for us to even be able to give an answer. Superman? You look sixteen. Why are we just seeing you now? Where are you from? Where is the president? Are you forming a new Justice League?

“We’ve been training,” that’s the one I offer to the press. “Learning. How to use our powers responsibly. We needed to learn how to use our abilities. Before we could help you Folks, we had to learn how to help ourselves.”

So now you think you’re ready? What’s next? Are you forming a new Justice League?

“No. We’re not forming a new League. We aren’t here to replace Heroes of the past. We’re want to pay homage to those who paved the way, but we want to show the world that we can be heroes all on our own too. How can we fail, with Wonder Womanleading the new generation of titans to defense America and the world.”

With that? I’ve sealed both her fate and mine. Because for every eye that turns her way. Every single person who gravitates toward the person that Superman said is going to lead the new generation. Well. The truth is? I’m one more step in to the dog house that is to be my life for a while. Maybe that’s why I take a step back. Maybe that’s why I slowly slip in to flight and hover behind her. Giving the cameras a show of a POTUS proclaimed Superman behind a self-proclaimed Wonder Woman. This validates what I’ve said. Posing her as the leader, that I’ve suggested that she is. It shows difference. Alternatively I’m getting a headstart for when she decides it is time to punch me.

Probably a lot more the latter than the former.

Cassie : Conner’s in trouble. Big trouble. Trouble to the level I don’t think he even fathoms right now, or he would probably have skipped the handsy moment. …nah even he wouldn’t have, but still. I’m attempting to put on a good face or I’d be seething right now. I know about the group his father’s spearheading, where he was created and why. It’s nothing that I’ve wanted to be a part of and that played into me agreeing to lay low. Not a hard bargain to make, because the truth is this is all new to me, and it wasn’t something I was ready to show off to the world. I think I’d have to understand what I am far better than I do right now before I’d have even considered it. And even then? It wasn’t going to be this public. I haven’t even done anything to earn this level of attention.

But I can clearly fly, and I came her in a spangly outfit with the new Man of Steel. Would they take us so seriously if they knew we were just a pair of superpowered teenagers playing dressup? Because that’s what I thought we were when we showed up today. At least most of what he’s saying is true, or true enough. We have been training, usually up in the woods in Canada where no one was going to see us. One of us is responsible, and no we’re definitely not forming a Justice League. We have to graduate high school.

Wait. With Wonder Woman doing what? What am I doing? Other than once again being abandoned to the spotlight while he backs off in completely uncharacteristic fashion. So. In trouble. Well. Like so many times in the last year, I find myself with the option to look like a very public idiot, or to play the part Conner’s angled me into taking for one reason or another. This one just comes with a lot more rapid fire shouted questions. Where I’ve come from, where I’ve been up until now. What do I have to say about a superpowered arms race? I came here today expecting to have to make up an answer about where I got my costume, not any of this.

“While our sincere hope is, of course, that you do not need us… we will be here if you ever do.”

That sounds lame, and stiff, and not at all like me but I don’t really feel like telling them how I’m an actual, honest to goodness demi-goddess and how I still haven’t graduated high school and that I barely know what i’m doing. Yup. I’m going to be leading the folks that save the world, too. Apparently. He’s so dead. I’m not the trained PR showpony that Conner is, and so left in the forefront? I don’t stay there. Clearly thinking I’ve said enough, I join him in the air. Only I don’t stop, I keep going upwards.

This? Is probably the highlight of the day. Doing one of my very favorite things, and not having to hide doing it. Up, and out, over the crowd and away. It’s not anywhere near the fastest I’ve gone up to this point, but it’s certainly fast enough to leave a wake.

Conner : There isn’t a single thing about this that I regret. Except maybe the part where I let this all go without taking the time to oogle her in that costume before she tries to say she’ll never wear it again. Except, that I’ve already got her in checkmate on that angle. What’s more is that I didn’t even do that myself. She did. With that little promise she just made to. Well. Everyone. Anyone. Who sees the news or reads a paper or looks at the internet.

Her exit is actually pretty dignified. I was half expecting her to knock me in to the middle of next week. But what actually happens. The way she glides in to the air, then makes a display of her power, while doing what is always best (leaving the press wanting more, not less). It’s perfect. How long has she waited and wanted to do that? Without fear of being caught flying? Much less doing it in public, in costume, with cameras everywhere. The crowd we had just from a POTUS announcement probably dwarfs what has grown before us by the time she does that.

Leaving me in the odd position that I’m not used too. Holding the proverbial bag, so to speak. With a shrug to the crowd, ever the theatrics, I give them the moment that I know they’re waiting for. “Up up and away? Heh.”

The whoosh of air from my following her out is slightly slower, if only because I want to measure the sound of reaction. Is it applause or just a chorus of questions? In fact I’m much more curious if the reaction -I- wanted comes about. Namely the positioning of Cassie as a public icon. Irreversibly tied to the President’s home grown Superman. People at the comicon were wanting to know her name, but the people I wanted to one-up already did. And now she’s front and center. Positioned as one, if not -the-, leader of the next generation.

Whatever Cassie thinks. As dead as she might think she’s going to make me? I’ve all but assured that N.O.W.H.E.R.E. doesn’t make her disappear. They literally can’t now. Doing so would be the same as attacking Luthor himself. At least for now. So long as we actually keep Cassie’s promise.

Once I catch up to her there’s really only one thing for me to say in a situation like this when I know she’s ready to punch my face. “Is this a bad time to mention that I love your ass in that costume? And eh… that I told your mom to tune in to the news for the Press Conference?”

Cassie: I want to knock him into next week. I really do. But experience has taught me that he’s quicker than I am, unless I get the jump on him, and so I probably wouldn’t have connected unless he let me. And someone letting you punch them isn’t exactly satisfying. Plus we have an audience, and starting a superbrawl in the middle of a press conference probably isn’t the sort of tone we want to set for the future. A future that apparently is going to have me stuck in the forefront as the one to look to. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

Am I even going to be able to manage this and not get cornered into folding under NOWHERE’s umbrella of influence? If I wanted to be extra grouchy I’d ask what was the point of the last year, if this is just where I was going to end up? But the truth is, while I’m furious with Conner for setting me up like this right now, I do still love the dumb jerk. He isn’t something I would have wanted to miss out on. I’m just going to casually set that aside in a corner of my brain right now. And try very hard to not want to read the news that’s probably already exploding onto the internet about who just showed up at Comicon.

I don’t know why I don’t simply rocket the hell out of there and away to…God. I don’t know. Khandaq? I guess it boils down to me enjoying the flight, the rush and feel of the air in my face for the first time ever without being concerned about who can see me, and who shouldn’t be seeing me. I guess right now they’re meant to. It makes me easy to catch up to, since I’m not bolting.

“Mmmyup.”

Normally a girl would probably like to hear that sort of thing, especially if they’re already a little self-conscious about how they look in a ridiculous getup like this. My trajectory slows a bit as I rotate so that I’m more facing him, because while I might have grunted off his compliment right now, the latter earns him the full brunt of the scowl that’s been percolating for the last ten minutes.

“You had better be about to follow up that statement with ‘and I talked to her about the bomb I was gonna be dropping before I dropped it,’ Conner Luthor.”

Conner : “What do I look like, a total asshole?”

Of course there’s a half-smirk that says I know precisely what she’s thinking about that right now. Whether or not that she answers. I’ve done something there is no going back from. Not to mention that she’s been working hard, very hard in fact, to keep everything under the radar. We’ve had this ‘pseudo-fight’ so many times I can practically have it in my own brain right now with unerring accuracy over every point that she would make. If she weren’t so angry that she wants to punch my lights out.

“Of course I told her, Cassie. Gods Almighty, it’s not like I haven’t learned anything from you. While you were in getting dressed, I shot over to the Museum and told her all about it. How you’ve been wanting me to ‘Help’ the world. How you think it’s my duty to use my gifts. How you want me to subvert my Father’s plans for N.O.W.H.E.R.E. and how you’ve been maneuvering me in to being the Man of Tomorrow, by stringing me along. While you fret over every little nuisance of your powers. How you hate not being able to fly sometimes. You know, because you’re managing me in to being something other than a ticking time bomb. While also living vicariously through me, because you’re afraid to be the one who does all those things you want me to do.”

“She muttered something that sounded a lot like it being ‘about time,’ and told me to watch for your left hook.” Wisking up close to her, ever defiant in the face of anyone’s fury, but especially Cassie’s. She’s positively intoxicating when she’s angry. Well that or I’m minimizing the potential for lightning impact. “Oh. And she kind of liked sticking it to my Dad.”

“But you’re probably in for a sound talking to when you get home. Mom had no idea you wanted to come out to the world. She also didn’t know you were struggling so much with hiding everything. Or that you were holding back to protect her.”

“Oh and she said something about how she thought you were smart enough to realize she’s used to taking care of herself. Since she handled your Father well enough.”

“Actually. Come to think of it. You might be grounded. So we should enjoy the flight while you have a chance…”

Cassie : He’s smirking at the same time that my mouth is making a similar, but opposite, move. Pulled in and turned down at the corner because yup, he does look like a total asshole right now. I ought to at least be more used to it, or maybe a little more expecting of moments like this, because he’s really damn good at doing something infuriating and at the same time passing it off as ‘no, really! I was being a good guy this time. I promise.’ Maybe when I get over feeling as if I had the rug yanked out from under me I’ll simmer down, but it was him that stressed having to do as much as I could to fit in. To make the whole him and me thing work. The cheerleading. The ‘friend’ making.

I’m also not sure if I am more or less mad because of the timing of his speaking to my mother about this whole debacle. Was it while I was getting dressed because it only then occurred to him that she might need some warning? Or was it just the convenient timing he chose because I would be too occupied shimmying into this ridiculous thing to notice that they were plotting?

“I didn’t say any of that! Oh my God! I didn’t want to come out to anyone, let alone everyone!”

The problem with shoving someone when you’re flying is that physics, no matter how much we might defy them otherwise, has a way of making it less impactful. I just end up drifting a little more backwards until our paths bring us back in close all over again. The upside, I suppose, is that I don’t need my arms to propel me forwards so I can just fold them tightly across my chest instead.

“And yeah, sure she can take care of herself. Until everyone we piss off, and you piss off a lot of people, comes after her. It’s not the same thing!”

There’s a great deal of grumbling, muttering and ineffectual huffing going on because I don’t know what else to do. Not only has Conner managed to corner me into some premature superheroing, but he also got me in trouble by putting words in my mouth. So maybe one or two of those things are true or half true, namely the flying part, but those are things I can live without for now. I mean. The operating suspicion is that I’m going to have a very, very long time to make up for whatever limits might be imposed on me right now.

“She voted for the other guy. This kind of feels more like playing along than sticking it to, Conner. I’m not ready for this. Unless it’s going to be all kittens in trees and old ladies wanting to cross the road.”

Conner : “You said all of that. In the same way you say things like, ‘We can’t go to Gotham, because reasons! Or ‘Look at my boobs, instead of eye-lasering the jerk who’s trying to flirt with me.’ Don’t forget the, ‘You shouldn’t abuse your father’s money Conner, let’s stay in the rattiest motel ever because I don’t want to even compare myself to the rich twits at school! You do nothing but say things without speaking. So don’t get mad at me when I start listening.”

Shots fired. Her arms are crossed, but actually so are mine. Just a slightly different way. Infuriatingly enough, I’m adopting a very familiar and judgmental Superman pose. I might be wrong, even totally wrong, about what she wanted. But I’m not wrong about -this-. She does this all the time and I’m not going to let her actually be mad at me for trying to read between the lines. Not when she told me that she was teaching me to be better. _This_ is what she’s taught me.

“Playing along, ugh. What happened to the Goddess Brain thing? You’re Wonder Woman now, Cass! You’re bound to his Superman. Unveiled at his press conference for me. If you disappear now? It’ll be seen as him either being too weak to control you or breaking his own promise. Since you spoke for him back there. The only thing he can do right now is back you. Try to control you, sure. You won’t disappear now. You have a seat at the table and you’ve got a chance make it mean something.”

“You weren’t ready for me either that first time we met, on the roof. You handled me fine. Besides what can go wrong? I’ll be right beside you.” There’s a small pause there, more for effect than necessity. Another smile. Just as cocky as all the rest, but warmer. “Also. For the record. I’m a sociopath and I can see that if you keep trying to live your life protecting your Mom? She’s going to push you out of the nest that much harder. For a girl who brags about how smart she is? You’re not too bright about reading her signals. She told you to pick a school, you’ve drug your feet. She made you move to Metropolis, took a desk job… and now she’s suddenly going on a dig she won’t take you on?”

“Your Mom slept with a God, the God of Gods, babe. Do you think Daddy Wardrums picked her because she’s a helpless hot blonde milf who can’t take care of herself? Actually. You know what, I take it back. I’m not sorry for reading between the lines wrong. You suck at teaching me how too. Suck.”

“Also. Just for the record. I’m totally winning this argument. Which is actually not good for me. So can we get to the part where you say I’m wrong, because I’m a big dumb jerk and storm off. If I keep winning, we’re probably never having make up sex and then I wore the fancy cape for nothing.”

Cassie : “Oh please you love it when people flirt with me because I hate it. And I’ll be mad if I want to because you’re choosing when it’s convenient and useful to listen!”

This would all be because I won’t let him invade Gotham City, wouldn’t it? Tim owed me big time already, he might owe me even worse now but I suppose there’s no way to even attempt to collect on that for the time being. I guess I could text him, but then he’ll just hole up in that place forever. Conner has taken things that I’ve said, or done, and taken them a bit to the extreme with a side of mixing them together. And none of those motels were ratty. Even I have some standards. Just. Maybe ratty if you’re used to penthouses.

“I thought I wasn’t going to anyway. I didn’t think we were going to have to worry about any of this for a while yet. My powers didn’t come with a manual, or even a quick start guide and I’m still figuring them out.”

Though, really, if we’re being completely honest me with the training wheels on is still more than sufficient in most cases for some hero work. I can already more than bench a tank, and we’re figuring out that I’m getting faster to go along with the flight and other things. I don’t really have anyone to compare myself to, other than him and he’s had nothing but training his whole life.

If it were possible to stomp one’s foot midair without looking like an idiot? I’d probably be unable to stop myself from doing it right now. Fortunately I show at least a little restraint and just keep flying. And haranguing.

“Ugh! You guys can’t have it both ways! Low profile and fit in Cassie, now tada! Superhero! No, you can’t finish school early Cassie, but GTFO!”

I’ve gone from making the highly displeased face at him, back to just scowling with an entirely stubborn set to my jaw. No, I’m not just going to say he’s right, though he’s maybe a little bit right about some things, but not about the entire issue at hand. And now I can’t say he’s wrong and storm off which is what I’d actually like to do. So I settle for something else, sniffing loudly and twisting around in the air once more into a more ‘normal’ flight position.

“Not for nothing. Kittens and a car wreck at four o’clock. Dibs on the wreck.”

It’s not storming off if you’re plummeting at high velocity out of the sky to save someone’s life. Page four of the Wondergirl guide to superheroics.

Conner : “That’s a terrible example. No. Really, I’m serious. You can’t finish school early, because you’re wanting to do it just to tag along with your Mother. Who wants you to be your own person in the first place.” There is part of me that thinks she’s losing this argument on purpose, just so she gets to punish me more by refusing to make up for longer, later. “And. The other example sucks too. You’re supposed to keep a low profile. As Cassie. Wonder Woman gets to have a high, nice looking, profile.”

Oh. Now I’m starting to be sure of this. Sinking feeling alert. She never argues this poorly. Something is amiss. Quick, review the argument and discussion up to this point. Look for potholes, footfalls and classic feints. When sure of those being non-existent, check to see if Cassie has been replaced by a White Martian. Hrm, nope. This is not how I imagined this would go.

“Uh. So. You’re still figuring them out. Are we talking about the ones you have or the ones you don’t know if you have? Because I mean you’ve been pretending to be a normal girl for the last two years. A normal cheerleader, who happens not to throw the class bully in to the rafters. A normal girl who doesn’t somehow land too hard when she’s thrown in to the air for a triple. And uh. What part of control am I missing out on you having, when you’re somehow not throwing snowballs through entire houses because you can lift a mack truck?”

“Oh and for the record. Can’t have it both ways? Hellooooooooo. I was happy to be Conner. You were pushing me to be a Hero. That’s both ways. Now I want us to have it both ways together and you’re mad? That’s actually not just a bad argument, it’s not even fair! … and would you STOP RUNNING AWAY, I want to re-check to be sure you’ve not been replaced by a shape-shifting alien…”

Ugh. She’s doing the thing. Where she storms off. Except not. Because she’s manufacturing a crisis. Right now. With how poorly she’s battling me verbally? I’m not even sure she didn’t cause both crisises, just to avoid this discussion.

“Fine. I’ll save the Cat. But that just means I’ll be home to talk to your Mom before you can.” Up up and away, my ass…

Takeout: Indian Style

by Michele | Mar 5, 2017 | Chronicles

Cassie : “Congratulations, I think you may actually pass World History this semester.”

Feet kicked up on the coffee table in the living room, like I wouldn’t dare to do if we were in the kitchen and it was that table because A. Manners, and B. Mom would murder me where I sat. The tone is a lilting bit of sarcasm, because he didn’t fail the last one either and the implication that he might at all is a little silly. It’s a matter of whether or not he puts in the effort, not intelligence. He’s already done all this, after all, or at least he has the memories to tell him that he did. Force fed into his developing brain by scientists, or put there by actual educators the result is the same. I mean, I imagine it would be anyway. Especially if, unlike Conner, you weren’t aware there was a difference at all.

He doesn’t need me to do this. The tutoring. We both know it. I knew it before we even started, but it was an excuse. An alibi. At this point it’s almost ritual more than education, some sort of barrier that we create for ourselves before we get to move on with what we really want to do for the evening… no. Not that.

“I think we’re going to need a little more dedication if you want to manage early release from the awful prison of private school.”

He’s technically a junior to my senior, but with my late birthday we’re not all that far apart age wise. If you go by how old Conner Luthor is supposed to be, at least. If we go by actual time on Earth? Well. That’d probably put me beyond pedophile status and into something that man doesn’t even have a full definition for yet. Tossing my obnoxious red marker down on top of the pile of our assorted textbooks, I trade it out for the soda cup that had come with the takeout we’d ordered in. Even though we could have picked it up faster than it took them to get in the car and drive it over here, either one of us. We’re playing at normal, after all.

School work and studying has always been something I’ve made certain we do, but today? I’m dedicating a little more effort than usual. Call it deadlines from the school year that are out of my control, and definitely not my farewell visit with Tim Drake.

Conner : The little creatures who’s psionic training I had endured while in that cloning tank were very thorough. Not only do I have all the memories of a life that supposedly ran the course of fifteen years, at that time, but I’ve also got the emotions of it. The trouble for them, and frankly everyone else, is that my teachers under-estimated their creation. It had always a world of layers. Much like the real world. The virtual reality, psionic impression, whatever. As my Kryptonian side began to display itself, I was able to begin picking things up that didn’t make sense. Sounds, impressions, sights, that went beyond the scope of the training scenario.

Eventually, I’d begun to test the boundaries of the world I found myself in. Surprisingly, the boundaries had surrendered pretty easily. I could ‘cheat’ in the training room. Enhanced Vision could peer through the illusions. Enhanced hearing could hear my trainers discussing the potential results. At that point it became a game to me. What could I accomplish to please. How could I fail that would merit punishment. Could they force me to take part in their tests?

Unfortunately for the real world, the true results were that I came out of that cloning vat with a lot of knowledge but almost no emotional connection to anything. At the time, I just didn’t care about anything. There was as little sympathy for the bad guys that my handlers sent me after, as there was for a kitty in a tree. Meaning to say, none at all.

I’m pretty sure that’s why N.O.W.H.E.R.E. originally fostered my connections to Cassandra Sandsmark. That too had, in a way, backfired. While they believed themselves able to use her against me, they hadn’t realized that my lack of fear meant that I wasn’t easily controlled. Over all, I think we had come to a stalemate of sorts. Until my Father stepped in. Seeing the opportunity to use Cassie as the carrot, upon the stick to directing me in to keeping his popularity soaring.

“It was already a lock,” there’s a dimple in the smirk she’s affixed with. “We have a game next week. Coach took care of it for me.”

There was a time when I might not have told Cassie of this. She’s not one for the cheating. More over she seems to hate it when I invoke privilege. Whether it be my father’s name or something like my Coach insuring his star player makes it to the next game. But, I’ve also learned that Cassie is starting to realize that this is all a charade in the first place. I’m pretending to be a student. In fact, I’m pretending to be a bad student and an awful person, because it is the role I’m cast in. My ‘secret identity,’ happens to be that I’m the son of Lex Luthor. President of the United States. Metropolis’ first Son.

“Cass, if I get any more dedicated I’m going to have to buy a pocket protector. This is all just silly stuff anyway. We all know the Victor writes the history. So in a couple years I’m going to have to re-learn all of this in Chinese anyway.”

While the studying isn’t my gig? Take out food is one of the few loves in my life. One does not jest about Delivery Pizza, or in this case Delivery Indian food. “Let’s talk about something really important. Like what the … &^%$… is this red chickeny goodness?! My tastebuds are overloaded with spices. I don’t know whether to heat vision it all out of existence, ask you to kiss it better or eat more…”

“You. Really. Should. Kiss it all better. I mean.”

Cassie : Rolling my head to the side, the purse lipped look Conner gets is plainly my going through the thoughts of ‘haha, really?’ to ‘no, you’re kidding,’ to remembering that yes, I absolutely believe that could have happened, and therefor ‘nope, you’re not kidding,’ onto ‘ugh, Conner…’ I’d like to say it’s much harder for me to believe that than it actually is. But the combination of who he’s supposed to be, with who he really is, means I just happen to know better.

“He shouldn’t have done that, you’re totally capable of doing this.”

Capable and motivate are different things. Here’s a fundamental difference between the pair of us though. It would really bother me to get a failing grade, hell even a C, even though I’ve had about exactly the same amount of exposure to ‘actual’ school as he has. Before last year, I was ‘home’ schooled, just a global never in the same place sort of home. With different teachers sometimes, but usually just my Mom or some self-motivated studying. Conner is smart enough to do this, he probably knows the information already. He just doesn’t have to try because someone else will try for him.

In this case, someone went to the effort, to reward him for/make use of his half-assed effort on the basketball court and this is a game that works for my boyfriend. Anyone who plays into his ‘player’ reputation frankly has no idea how deep the game goes. But then, why should they?

“You will not, you don’t even have a pocket in the right place to need one.”

The sigh of frustration is much more at his selection for winning country than his general attitude towards our high school level educations.

“China? Not likely. Not unless we magically end up in Asia. Then it might be more of a threat. Unless you mean Economically instead of on the Military front.”

Plucking the carton in question out of his hands lets me peer into it, to double check the contents before fishing out a nibble of it myself. It’s a riot of spices, but not in a way that threatens to overwhelm me. My globe trotting upbringing with Mom meant I was introduced to a lot of different types of food, and none really ever became default normal for me. I am not actually much of a fan of many ‘American’ classics, because I find them bland. But, I also don’t have quite the same level of heightened senses as Conner does.

“What, the tandoori? Cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, cayenne… baby need some yogurt?”

It’s not the term of endearment version of the word ‘baby’ so much as my teasing him as I put on a look of overdone sympathy for him and his poor tongue. I may be rolling blue eyes at him, but I leave off licking the chicken’s coating off my fingers to lean over and give him that requested kiss anyway. At least for his lips. The rest of his mouth is just going to have to deal.

Conner : “Listen, Cassie, he wanted to do this for me. I didn’t want to do the test. When our wants align, we become Captain Planet. So we made it so.”

If the nonchalance with cheating was one thing, then casual manner in which I’m blowing the whole thing off? Is sure to make the girl next to me twitch in all the right ways. Or wrong ones. Depending upon your vantage point. But the deeper side of this all? Is that Cassie really has to wonder about it all. Am I blowing it off? Do I know the information? Could it be that I’m abusing my Name or is this really about playing the role. The answer might be any of those, but since she loves to manage the person I am? I take a great deal of pleasure in making her work for it.

“Pocket Protector. Right here. Maybe some glasses. Actually, I bet that I look even better with glasses. Have you ever noticed that any time there’s Hotness, you just add glasses and it dials it up ten percent. Why don’t they ever do math problems like that? If you take one hot Cheerleader. Add blonde hair, but subtract a Bra, while supplying her with glasses and a libido. Does she Rule the World?”

The kiss is taken, appreciated for what it was and eye narrowing accusation for what it was not, before I’m on to drowning the spices out with sweet tea. Sweet Tea and little bit of a snort over her for the baby comment.

“Everyone knows China is going to rule the world in the next ten to fifteen years. It’s inevitable. Just look at this growth. In economical and financial merit alone, they’re the only threat to the American Way of Life. If they weren’t my Father wouldn’t spend so much time having his PCTSA devising plans for the ‘China Solution.’ So far they’ve come up with something a lot like your Ancestors employed. Salt the Earth, I think your Father called it.”

Snatching Cassie’s hands in an effort to lick away residue. Either to prove that I’m not a baby or to tease her, maybe both. “So. Wanna put on the costumes and go out for a Fly? I hear Gotham is nice this time of year.”

Cassie : “Uh huh. Which one are you? Full of wind, and Coach is Heart?”

In this case, I think it’s some of all of the above. Most people don’t like taking tests, your average jock probably wants to even less and for Conner it’s a pointless exercise to show that he knows something he doesn’t need to know, coupled right along side with it being perfectly normal and expected for him to not do it at all. Maybe if the teachers couldn’t tell that he’s smart they’d try harder, or maybe if his father wasn’t Lex Luthor…

That’s not a string I get to pull. I mean, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. Maybe that’s a good thing, since in the grand cosmic scheme of things when you’re looking at influence, and power, my father may actually be one of the only people that could outstrip his in the first place. But if I started demanding my math teacher let me out of a calculus test because the God of the Gods decreed it so, they’d just send me to the nurse’s office thinking I was having a psychotic break.

“No, she doesn’t. Because she’s responsible with no world-conquering desires. She might flex that nerd cred to wrap some unsuspecting meathead around her little finger though.”

I ignore the lewder part of that comment, because fussing or commenting on it would just make him latch onto it even more. Besides. The commentary on China is enough confirmation that he does actually pay attention to things outside of what’s just going on in the ten feet around him. I know he does. It’s why I don’t get as upset as I could about the whole test situation. I get it. I do. I also know he’s putting in way more effort for my benefit than he actually needs to.

“Scorching to precede the salt? Maybe a little Patricide as a warm-up?”

Another point towards the argument that he pays attention outside of the immediate area, and further reason to internally grouse and grump at Tim’s methods when a phone call would probably have been more likely to escape Conner’s notice. I let myself be distracted for just a moment by what he’s doing, and not focusing on what he’s saying even though I heard perfectly clear. The attention leaves me clearing my throat softly, feeling my cheeks get a hair warm.

“Where’d you hear that, and was it Opposite Day when you heard it? Gotham is awful.”

He’s never expressed even the slightest interest in Gotham. Like ever. While logically I know that not everything we hear on the news sums up the city, and that it likely has its bright spots? Here in Metropolis you just don’t really hear about them unless you’re hunting. Whereas this boy very likely put a two and two together of his friend wandering off to ‘somewhere’ in connection with other things and now is curious about the whys. But you don’t tell him no without offering an alternative. You just don’t. People like the Luthors don’t get told no without it tripping their ego/power switch.

“But I do want to go flying.”

Leaning more into Conner’s side than into the back of the sofa, I nuzzle my nose along his shoulder and hip his neck. It could probably be more overt flirting, but if I oversell the snuggling he’s just going to know I’m trying to pull a fast one. Or at the very least distract him.

“We could go get some legit kulfi? They didn’t have them at this place. It’s like the best Popsicle you could ever have.”

Conner: “Isn’t that cute? It’s like you haven’t even ever met me before. I couldn’t be one of those jerks. I wouldn’t combine my power with someone else. I’d just handle the problem. By myself. It’s what I do. Coach is all heart though. You should have seen the way he was grousing about my spending all my time with my tutor, but not learning anything but how to ogle my girlfriend.”

“Lookit you thar, being all smarmy and egotistical all at once. Who said anything about you being the nerdy cheerleader, ruling the world?” Clearly having it not occur to him that she might be suggesting he were that meathead. “Besides which. If you think about it. You would do such a good job at it. You’ve spent your whole life learning about all the Historical things that the world should never repeat.”

“Plus. I mean. Have you considered how much you’d enjoy taking this whole high road, holier than thou routine on the road? You’d have the whole world to boss around, sass and correct whenever they do anything wrong.”

If I were smirking before it’s grown by a factor of ten now. Not only do I like teasing her, but I love it when she makes it easy for me. Sure, I’ve got to deal with being teased about my burning tongue to get there, but once we make it I get the payoff of watching her flush. Sometimes she even sputters. But if the worst case happens and Cassie gets mad at being teased? Well then the makeup activities usually more than makeup for everything else anyway.

For more than a few moments I’m really concerned about getting every last bit of spices off of her fingers. One at a time. Focused, in fact. To the point of letting the conversation take it’s own course, with Cassie turning aside my ideas about Gotham. Then as she is making her own round about counter-idea? I let my touch wander up her arm, skimming across clothing to the side of her neck. I’m just about to sneak a kiss from her, when I settle back rather suddenly and give her the one thing I know she isn’t counting on.

“Okay. But. Only if you let book the night at the Marari.” A fingertip lightly taps her upon the nose, then trails down across her lips, silencing her immediate acceptance of the terms. “And. Pack your bags.”

You see. There are consequences to managing your boyfriend. Especially when he knows you’re doing it. This is merely a question of negotiation now. How important is denying me access to Gotham. What can I get out of it and will Cassie make it worth not pursuing what I’m really interested in? No matter how she responds to this, I’ve gotten information -or- I’ve gotten a large payoff. The only thing I know for sure, is that she’s not going to call my bluff. Because she knows I don’t actually bluff. My complete lack of shame, patience or material attachment affords me no reason to actually bluff.

“What. Haven’t you seen the news? They’re having so much fun over there! All those crazy costumes. Criminals in every corner. It looks like a job for Superman… just the sort of thing you’ve been wanting me to do with my powers.”

Oh, yeah. That’s right. Add a side of her words against her. Push the angle of doing the right thing. I’m going to India tonight, folks. I don’t win these very often. So when there’s opportunity? I’m letting the smirk out in full two-dimple force. The kind of smirk that says I’ve already packed her bag, I just can’t wait for her to unpack it.

Cassie : “Hah. If you’ve ever said a more true thing than that, I don’t know what it is…”

He’s not joking, and while he’s teasing and answering my banter, it is precisely what I said. True. When you’re a Super and a Luthor there’s not much that’s outside your ability to grab and/or do, so why do you need to share or lean on anyone else? I guess it’s fortunate for me that I fill a niche that he can’t just get for himself or we probably wouldn’t be together. And the fact that I’m not much in for being used makes this a bit different than most other relationships with people he’s got right now. I’ve got my own powers, I don’t care about the influence of the money.

“I would probably make a pretty great Benevolent Overlord. History just also says that never really ends well for anyone. So I’ll just settle for bossing around my very own Superboy.”

All through this, I’ve gotten a little more progressively pink in the face, up until I’m to the point of attempting to reclaim my fingers from him, but when it comes down to it Conner is stronger than me. For now. And the amount of struggle I’d have to put up to win that mini-battle isn’t worth it. So I’m pretty grateful for the moving on to kissing again, for a whole variety of reasons. You know. Up until he just stops. Leaving me huffing in disappointment, and narrowing my eyes at him. That was too quick an agreement, so I purse my lips, blue eyes flicking towards the cellphone that is all that had stopped my marker from rolling onto the floor. I don’t know the name. That makes me want to stoop to Google before I agree to anything here.

Turnabout is not fair play and no one that’s ever experienced it would ever say so. This is a big circle of flipped ideas we’ve got going here, from turning the Gotham trip to India, to where we are now.

“Uh huh… it is…”

I don’t even try to hide my suspicions as to what he’s up to. He’s probably up to many things right now, and the number of dimples is exponentially related to how much trouble I’m going to be in. But if there’s no trip to the other side of the world tonight? We’re going to Gotham. This probably should be a no-brainer. I should just text Tim and say ‘sorry, pal I tried, really I did’ and just go with it. But he’s not the only one I want using their powers for good, and I really do actually like a great Indian dessert. Especially when you get it in India.

“Fine. But you have to call my Mom.”

Conner : “You’d make an excellent ‘Benevolent Overlord,'” there’s seemingly no teasing about it, it was after all my idea. “Think about it. Between the pedigree you’ve got and the chops you’ve earned from bossin me around? You’d be a natural.”

Alas, we both know the discussion about her being the Overlord has passed. What with the kissing, the exploring, the moment when we were about to take our playfulness from smooching to make out session. Complete with more than a little bit of blushing from one of the two of us. Only for the entire thing to be denied in the face of her having this entire thing turned around on her.

It doesn’t happen often. Me winning at something like this. Not to say that I don’t win, because I do. Fairly often even. This is just the exception to the rule, that says Cassie always wins when she’s the one employing the tactics of seemingly giving me what I want, while getting what she wants. This must be a bitter medicine, in a way. Especially once she recognizes it for what it happens to be. That’s the worst for me too. When I realize she’s gamed me. I like that she has Game, I just don’t like it put forth upon me.

At the moment, the exact moment, of agreement? I’m swooping in to sneak a kiss. A real kiss. Soft at first, but putting coal upon the fire of the heat in her cheeks that was only beginning before. There’s something more to all of this. Not only did I buy in too quickly, but I’ve not let up upon getting what I want. If anything the kiss is as much celebratory as anything.

“No worries, Brighteyes. I talked to Mom earlier and told her we were taking a ‘cultural road trip.’ She was worried about it being a school night,” flashing that charming smile, which involves more than a little batting of the eyes. “But I promised to talk to you about not forgetting the ‘Potential of Schools Abroad,’ too.”

“I’ll grab our swim suits from California. Put a couple things in there to keep us busy on the flight over…” Fwooosh! Cassie’s hair rustles in the displaced wind from my speeding away.

Cassie : “Maybe I’ll work up to that. Do Overlords have Consorts, because I think that title would fit you pretty well. You know. Unless you keep teasing me…”

It’s all rather rhetorical though. The teasing and banter results in a lot of those questions, and in many cases goes until one or the other of us has to shut the other up in creative, affectionate ways. Well, usually they’re affectionate. I was all ready for it to continue in that direction, too, up until Conner put on the brakes to frustrate me and capitalize on a moment when things were decidedly in his favor. Very like him, really. Damn it all.

“Hmph.”

I’d say that the kiss is my reward for going along with what was maybe his plan all along, and in part? Maybe it is. But it’s also about throwing me off. Keeping me off balance until the moment where there’s simply no getting my footing back at all. I wasn’t ready for the kissing to resume. Into it enough that once again, I’m not ready for it to stop, so that once again I’m letting out a soft complaint. But there’s no denying Conner’s pleased. Too pleased, for this to just have happened to go his way and that concerns me. A lot.

“How nice of you. Always thinking about my future…”

My tone is dry, and a little bit exasperated. He’s already talked to my Mom? Definitely up to something, and I’m replaying the day to see at what point I started tip toeing into this trap, and wondering how obvious it was before the moment it sprung closed on me.

“On the flight over? We’ll be flying on the flight… hey!”

Double damn it.

With a much louder noise of frustration, I toe his textbook cover closed, the rest of the pages had flipped in his passing and lost our place as it was. My stomping of displeasure as I go upstairs in a normal, teenage girl sort of antic. I just have to make sure to stomp gently, but quite loud enough that he’s going to hear it just the same.