The Last Superhero Read Online Free Page B

sliding into the seat.
    I'm still reaching over the
center console so he seizes the moment to kiss my cheek.
    “ Got
you something.” He lifts a bag made of black fabric, holding
something long inside. “It's not an ever-refilling one, but
it's a start.” A bottle of vodka.
    “ Thanks.”
    Oh my god. I have to be more
careful if he's going to take what I say so literally.
    Or should I?
    Go away, dirty thoughts and
memories of books I should've never laid my hands on, much less read.
    Drive. Just drive.
    “ It's
been long since I got into one of these.” He looks around the
car, especially the dashboard with all its meters and gauges. “A
lot has changed.”
    “ You
almost destroyed my door that night.”
    He gives the victim a
surveying glance and sees the duck tape over the cracked door panel.
    “ I'm
so sorry.”
    “ Forget
it. How do you run your errands anyway?”
    “ I
walk.” He laughs. “Strange thing to do these days when
everyone seems to have a car or two.”
    “ But
a smart choice, counts as exercise.”
    Red light. We stop.
    Don't look at him like that.
    He looks back at me and he's
grinning, his eyes glinting.
    It'd be very stupid of me
not to guess what comes next.
    Green light. Keep going.
    He sinks into his seat and
I'm suddenly afraid I'm sending smoke signals under a fire sensor.
    “ I
haven’t seen this side of the city in years,” he
whispers, looking out through the windows in amusement. His arms
crossed over his chest, he seems to be trying to hide inside his
jacket.
    What if he's some madman and
here I am taking him to my apartment? I should've told Daphne, told
her to text me at a certain time to check if I'm still alive.
    “ The
tinted windows don’t let people see who’s inside the
car.”
    He seems relieved by that
and pulls himself up again.
    I'll text Daphne once we get
there.
    We arrive and he's reluctant
about coming in. I rid him of his coat and scarf and perch them on
the rack.
    The smell of pot roast has
taken over the still burning scented candles.
    “ Nice,”
he says.
    I can tell he likes it.
    I like to believe I've made
it the coziest chicken coop in the city.
    “ Make
yourself comfortable while I check on the food.” I point at the
living room with the sofa and the coffee table and the books and my
laptop.
    He hands me the bottle of
vodka.
    “ I'll
bring it to you.”
    “ No.
It's for you.”
    “ Huh?”
    “ I-
I don't drink much.”
    Ohai, my name is Giana and
I'm a highly functional alcoholic, kthxbai.
    “ Okay.
Dinner will be ready any minute now.”
    I gift him a smile and go
hide the bottle in the kitchen. Open the oven and make sure the roast
hasn't burned. It smells delicious, by the way. And is not a piece of
charcoal yet.
    Text Daphne.
    7:15pm: Steven's
over for dinner. Txt me round midnite.
    7:15pm: WTF?
D: Stalker much?
    7:16pm: I
invited him. :-/
    The thing sings and vibrates
in my hands and Steven looks my way.
    I show him the phone and
turn my back to him.
    “ What
the fuck are you doing?!”
    “ Daphne.
I only asked you to text me around midnight.”
    “ After
all the stuff we found on him? The news reports. The murders!”
    “ Yes,
right. They told me they'd send a shipment soon, didn't think they'd
be so quick.” I'm just checking on the potatoes.
    “ What
the fuck?”
    “ He's
not a bad person,” I whisper.
    “ Where
is he?”
    “ Living
room.” I spy on him from my spot, crouched in front of the
oven.
    “ What
is he doing?”
    “ Touching
my laptop.”
    “ Oh
my god, did you delete the browser's history?”
    “ Shit!”
UGH. “Wait. I don't think he knows how to use it anyway.”
    “ What
if he does?”
    “ Dammit,
Daphne.”
    I pour a glass of water and
walk as swiftly and nonchalantly as I can towards Steven sitting in
the sofa. The phone in my free hand, still on the call.
    “ Here.”
He thanks me for the water with a smile. “I'm sorry for this
mess, let me clear it up.”
    There's no mess, but I make
a point of