Falling for a Superhero

Chapter Nineteen-"Pushed Away is Better Than Nothing"

"Honey, turn that down," Veronica told Jem when I had walked down for breakfast.

"But I wanna listen!" Jem said. I looked over and saw the news on. Jeremy couldn't stand the news, so I knew it had to be some story about the Proliator. While part of me wanted to deny his social existence with me, I wondered what happened last night.

"Our very own super hero, The Proliator, seems to have an Achilles' heel," the anchor started. Oh no. "Although he captured and delivered a murderer and Mob member that escaped prison a few days ago, minutes later, a lady called 911 reporting the vigilante for injuries."

They switched cameras and a new anchor woman was on the screen with a very plump, but friendly-looking lady.

"I saw him on the ground in pain. I walked over to see if he was alright and noticed he didn't have his gloves on so I saw his hands cut up. He looked up to me and there was blood running down his face. I didn't even know he bled!...But then when I turned for a second and he was gone," the lady described. Tied in knots, my stomach wanted to compress itself all because of the scrutinizing guilt I had. I wanted to run right up to my room and yell out the window for Proliator to return to me, but I knew he wouldn't. One, because he said he wouldn't and he was clearly a man of promise. Two, because he surely hated me now. The other reason? Well, the other reason he wouldn't come back was because he could by dead by now.

His danger only made me value all that he did for me. I didn't know if he was still alive or not (I pray that he is), but I honored his words and comfort more than ever. That's why I planned to tell Hayden exactly what I thought should happen between us, even though he had sent me a text last night/early this morning saying that he was sorry and he was being a persistent asshole. I couldn't deny that.

When I hopped out of Sebastian's car at school, I prepared to walk to the gym area, hoping I got there right as football practice ended. However, I found out from a few trampy girls that it ended in fifteen more minutes. I started walking back to the school building, deciding Hayden could wait until passing period or lunch, and then I saw someone familiar sitting under the bleachers.

I couldn't pass him. He was covered with the steel foundation of the bleachers, but he looked to be sleeping. I bit my lip and decided to walk over to him. No matter how mean he was to me in public, I figured it was to keep his reputation—like the Proliator claimed. And with all that happened between us on Saturday, I could only show him courtesy and kill him with kindness.

When I ducked under the last bar near him, I got a better look at his sleeping body. His face was neutral, but there was a ticking in his jaw. Suddenly, his eyes flashed open and he glared up at me. Maybe this wasn't the best time to bother him...

"Morning," he grumbled. That's when I knew something was definitely wrong. His voice was cracked...and he was being nice to me (yes, things were so bad that a simple greeting was considered "nice") within a few yards of society. I crouched down beside him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, giving off pure concern for him. His eyes were a deep hazel, but he wasn't looking at me like he'd lunge to kill. The shades in his eyes altered and then his demeanor changed.

"Nothing. I'm fine," he said well enough for anyone else to believe.

"Oh..." I mumbled, giving him a puzzled and yet unconvinced look. He only nodded once, fatigue taking him over for a brief second before he stood. "So what are you doing here?"

"Taking pictures of the football team," he answered before turning around, placing the lens to his camera through the cracks in the bleachers and snapping a picture of the huddle. He turned back to me. "By the time I got a chance to use my phone yesterday, it was way too late to text you if you wanted to come."