Enigmatic: Sapphire City Supers

Chapter 22: The Rage Train

The idea that Jackson might be Enigma kept me occupied all the way through getting home, showering, dressing in something cute but casual, (I had a potential mystery suitor to impress, after all), and making the trip to the arena. Enigma's face danced through my head, followed by both Jackson and Tristan until I wanted to wave my hands in front of my face and shoo them all away. I would've done it if I wasn't in public where people could see me yelling at my own brain and the men it was conjuring up.

Unfortunately for my psyche, both of those men were waiting for me along with our other friends when I arrived. I deliberated for a moment on whether I could shoo them away in person, but settled on that being pretty obviously insane.

I handed out hugs like candy, and gave one to Jackson somewhat awkwardly, since I'd have felt more weird leaving him out. The energy thrummed against me from inside his body. On a whim, I pushed back against it, and instantly felt him flinch. When I pulled away, he was giving me a curious look, but he said nothing.

"You guys all remember Jackson," I told the assembled group. Grace and Stu were taking it easy tonight, probably basking in the glow of their domestic bliss, so it was just three of the four stooges and Lexa. I felt a little bad for Jackson since it was him plus the old high school clique. Lexa smiled and waved, and the guys all exchanged brusque nods. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; they'd always been such a protective group when it came to Lexa and me.

"Okay!" I continued, a touch too brightly, plastering a grin on my face, "shall we go get some seats before all the good ones are taken?"

As we filtered through the somewhat crowded corridors, a light touch on the inside of my elbow jerked me out of my brain spinout.

"You alright?" Ewan asked quietly, a little smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "You looked a little deranged back there."

"Rude!" I huffed, lightly swatting away his hand. Obviously I was becoming too transparent. "And to think I always considered you the polite one. I'm just a little nervous about Seb; you know how it is."

So maybe that was a lie through my teeth, but he didn't have to know that.

He cocked his head to the side, glancing at me from under long lashes. No glasses today. "I'm the 'polite one'?"

"Well, considering you don't say boneheaded things or make unsubtle passes at me, yes." I looked around to make sure the others hadn't heard me.

Ewan considered this. "I'll take it then, I guess."

"You say that like it's not a compliment."

He chuckled. "It makes me sound so bland. As long as you don't introduce me to anyone like, 'this is Ewan, he's the polite one.' There's got to be a better qualifier than that."

"Yes, well, I know how hard it's been for you to shed your bad boy image," I said sarcastically, elbowing him gently in the ribs.

"You have no idea," he joked, raking a hand through his hair in a pretty good bad boy imitation. It suited him, surprisingly.

"What are we talking about, guys?" Tristan broke in, slinging a heavy arm around each of our shoulders.

"How you're a prat," Ewan answered smoothly, not missing a beat.

"I can't possibly believe that," Tris countered with a lazy grin.

"Okay I'd like to qualify what I said before," I told Ewan. "You're polite to me."

"You're not a prat," he pointed out triumphantly.

"Clearly I've missed something," Tris pouted.