Addicted After All(165)

A very good position, indeed.

He brushes my hair from my face, his fingers grazing my skin with lightness and care. “I know you’re nervous about it, Lil,” he breathes. “But it’s all going to be okay.”

The office door suddenly swings open, and about the same time I spin around, the wood shuts closed, the person out of sight.

“I’m sorry!” Maya calls through the other side. “I should have knocked…”

Lo laughs, like a real humored one. And he whispers to me, “She’s carrying about ten plastic Thor hammers.”

I smile at that image of my super geeky store manager. She’s also proven her loyalty by not sharing any personal info with the press.

“It’s okay!” I shout back to her.

Lo kisses my cheek before I climb off him. “You’re not red,” he states like a fact.

I look at my arms. No blushing elbows. No rash-like flush. I beam. “My superpowers are—”

“Kicking in?” he finishes for me, his hypnotic amber eyes right on mine. His lips pull upward.

“It’s a lame superpower, isn’t it?” I ask as I head to the door. The ability to avoid roasting from head-to-toe—it’s not very grand or epic but at least it’s something. Right?

“Horrible,” he banters. “You’re better than that, love.”

I smile. “Am I?”

He nods. “Most definitely.”

With this nice confidence boost, I open the door. Maya lingers with a heap of plastic Thor hammers in arm. Her glasses fall to the bridge of her nose and her straight black hair frizzes like lightning struck her. “I’m sorry, Lily,” she apologizes again, her eyes permanently widened in terror.

“We weren’t really doing anything,” I tell her quickly. Heat gathers on my neck, a red heat. Damn. That lasted too short. “Do you need help?” I motion to the merchandise she juggles.

“This? No, no, I have it. It’s just…” She leans in close and whispers, “There’s a girl who keeps asking for Lo. She’s been here the past two weeks, and she says she’ll keep coming back for as long as it takes.”

Jeez. I gently shut the door to Lo’s office, not wanting to disturb him. He’s in a weird place, and I don’t think he should be handling super fans.

“Maybe she’ll be satisfied with just me?”

Maya nods repeatedly.

I leave Moffy with Lo and descend the twisty staircase into the Superheroes & Scones break room. A few employees perk up by my sight. I haven’t been present much since my son was born, and it’s been easier to communicate by email and phone.

Entering the store will be like slipping into a version of outside, a smidgen less boisterous but still chaotic and loud. I like coming here after closing, when everyone is gone. It’s just red vinyl booths and racks of comics. But I take the risk now, and I push through the door.

The store is packed. Every booth occupied by a group of people, some just drinking coffee, others reading too. And people really peruse the shelves, like they’re interested in comics and not just spotting the Calloways.

It makes me smile.

Though the moment I scoot behind the counter, a kitchenette as the backdrop, heads whip in my direction. And the line outside the door suddenly rushes to the store window. People pull out their phones and snap photos. Inside the store too.

I shrink only a little. I’m used to the constant gazes now. Maya trails me, some plastic hammers swinging by their price tags and clanking together. “Where is she?” I ask her.

But the moment the words escape, a girl springs up from the floor near a rack of X-Men comics. Her light brown hair in a messy braid, she slings an old jean backpack on her shoulder and walks slowly towards me. She fixes her large round glasses on her nose with shaky, nervous hands.

I thought she’d be excited, like the girls who shriek outside every time I glance their way. Instead, the color drains from her face.

With the checkout counter separating us, she’s not too close. “Hi,” I smile, but she doesn’t return it. Oh…what if she hates me and only loves Lo? I didn’t think this through.

“Is Loren around?” she asks. “I really want to see him.” She pushes her glasses up again.

“He’s working,” I say with the scrunch of my nose. “It sucks. But I’m here.” I smile again, but her frown deepens. I’m a shit alternative to Loren Hale’s six-pack and sharp-as-ice cheekbones. Daisy is also better at small talk than me. But she’s taught me some things through our Hale Co. competition. Compliments get you far. “I like your pin,” I tell her.