“Don’t you get how that makes me feel, Ri? Don’t you get how it looks to other people? Let me explain it to you. It looks like you’re using me. Like the only reason you’re in a relationship with me is because it’s a convenient way to get me to help you all the damn time!”
“That is not true at all,” Orion counters. “You were my friend long before I depended on you for guidance and long before our relationship evolved.”
“Has our relationship really evolved?” Atlas challenges. “Really? What—we have meaningless sex now, so it’s ‘evolved’?”
“It’s not meaningless,” Orion insists. “It’s…” He trails off. He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, and it’s very clear to Atlas he doesn’t.
The mutant turns spiteful, saying, “It’s what? Go ahead, Orion. Go ahead and tell me it means something to you. Go ahead and tell me that you love me.”
“I don’t know if I love you,” Orion says. “Atlas, you know I don’t have a good grasp on these emotions yet.”
Atlas growls out a frustrated, desperate noise. “Of course I know! That’s why you need me! To explain it to you! But, if you don’t even know how you feel about me, then how the hell am I supposed to know?! Huh?”
Unlike before, Orion knows this one. He does. He only has to work through it. He takes a moment to remove himself from the present situation, to put himself in his mind’s eye. Using the same skill that allows him to work through an opponent’s moves in a fight to gain a strategy, Orion works through his memories of Atlas to find the answer.
He starts with the facts—he doesn’t know if he loves Atlas. He’s still not even clear on what love is. He doesn’t understand any of it. He doesn’t know why people talk about having a “future” with one another. He doesn’t know what people mean when they say, “a house with a white picket fence.” He doesn’t know why it bothers Miguel so much when he kisses other people. He doesn’t know what love is supposed to be.
But then again… maybe, just a little bit, he does.
It’s the way Miguel stumbles around in the mornings, grumbling and yawning and showing bits of stomach every time he stretches, until he finally gets some coffee in him. It’s the way he thinks he can steal the remote from Orion and the way Orion lets him and lets him keep thinking he actually got away with it. It’s the way the other man curls in close to him on winter nights, because the cold gets in through the window. It’s the way Orion is the only person in the entire world allowed to use Miguel’s given name.
The pieces are falling into place in his mind and he thinks he has it. He finds the memory of what it had been like to be without Atlas on Sturmworld, and remembers how it had all felt so incredibly wrong, like he hadn't belonged on his own planet because Atlas wasn't there with him. It had felt wrong enough that he’d had to come back to Earth to find the other man.
That's it. That’s the answer, isn’t it?
“It’s right,” Orion says suddenly.
“What?” Atlas snaps.
For once, it is Orion who has to explain. “It’s right. That’s all I know. It is wrong when we are apart, and it is right when we are together. This. This is right. Me here with you; you here with me. It’s right,” he says with finality. Then, turning a softer look on Atlas, he asks, “Is that not enough?”
Miguel deflates, his roaring rage standing little chance against such a heartfelt confession. He looks younger for some reason in that moment, like when they first met, as he stares back at Orion long and hard. His mouth opens, and finally he says, “Kiss me.”
“Of course,” Ri says, and makes to do exactly that. He’s stopped by Atlas holding up a hand to his face.
“Kiss me,” Miguel repeats, “like you mean it.”
Orion has never been hesitant about anything in his life, has never seen the point, and true to his nature he takes three long strides forward and puts himself in Atlas’s space. His hands come up to cup Atlas’s jaw for just a moment, before his fingers slide around to sift through soft, brown hair.
Atlas is expecting a kiss of passion, that the redhead believes his lust is proof he cares about Miguel. But Orion surprises him.
It’s gentle. A soft pressure that’s perfect, and meaningful, and all the things Atlas wants to spend the rest of his life holding onto and building his future around. It’s just like Ri said—it’s right.
When Orion pulls back to look at Miguel, his expression is open, sincere. “That is all that I can offer you,” he says quietly. “Is it enough?”
Atlas shuts his eyes for an instant and wonders how exactly he got here to this moment with this man, who frustrates him beyond compare, but at the same time, is someone he probably doesn’t deserve. This is the present: the point from which all future plans will be built upon and systematically destroyed. Atlas knows in his heart that in the kind of life he leads, there’s no point in planning for the future. In a world where whole galaxies can be stripped away with a single thought, there is absolutely no point in trying to pretend he has any sort of control over his life. “Fate” will throw you around as it pleases.
But he still likes to dream. He still likes to pretend he can picture how it’s going to be, that he can help move his life toward a particular end. He still wants certain things in his future, and he’s still perfectly willing to fight for them.
When he opens his eyes, he’s staring at the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with.
Miguel can’t help the huff of laughter he lets out at the realization. When he met Orion, he wouldn’t have pegged him as "life-partner material." In fact, he would have (and did) peg him as a cold-blooded psycho—but once he became friends with the other man, he might have, probably would have, believed otherwise, if he’d ever let himself think that way back then.
Now, Orion is still waiting for his answer. Atlas finds he is finally able to give it.
“Yeah. It’s enough,” Atlas says and leas in to steal another kiss.
They stand there kissing until Marco yells, “Get a room!”
When they break off, Orion looks puzzled, stating, “We have a room.” Atlas laughs.
"It's an expression, Ri…" Atlas explains and knows his future with Orion will turn out all right, all else be damned.
About the Author
A resident of Dallas, Texas, Jacklyn Baker spends her time writing, reading, and keeping the candy bowl at her desk full. Every Sunday she enjoys brunch and a trip to the bookstore with her closest friends. Jacklyn would like to thank these friends for all their support. Without them this story could not have come to pass as her first published work.
Secrets to Keep
Kara Costegan
Online dating. Because when you’re a superhero, how else are you going to meet anyone?
Irina Smith wasn’t entirely sure why she needed to meet anyone to begin with. She was completely fulfilled in her role as Eye-Reen, super-heroine and member of the Super Group. She had friends in the group. Other heroes. Other people who weren’t looked at as freaks because they could change shape or shoot lasers out of their eyes or lift tall buildings with a single finger.
She didn’t need a boyfriend. But her mother refused to accept that. And Mom’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in Irina’s brain.
So there she sat in the Super Group’s top-secret headquarters in the basement of Super Guy’s mansion with her laptop in front of her and a browser window open to Happydate.com. She felt like a complete fool. At least the rest of the group had gone out for Thai food, so no one was likely to see her browsing the hundreds of pictures of men who probably looked nothing like what they’d posted.
An instant messenger window popped up in the lower corner of the screen. Hey, Greeneyes, my name’s Ben. Nice pic.
“They all say the same thing,” Irina muttered. She’d been on the site for fifteen minutes, and this was the fourth instant message she’d received.
Every one of them had complimented the profile picture she’d chosen, which only showed fr
om her nose to the top of her chest. It had been an accident. She wasn’t great with selfies. But she’d posted it anyway because it didn’t give away enough for anyone to figure out who she was, either in real life or in her secret super life.
You’ve probably heard that a zillion times, Ben typed. I don’t mean to bother you. I really suck at chatting like this
At least he was being honest. Even though Irina had vowed to ignore all instant messages on that site, Ben’s last comment amused her enough to respond.
I suck at it too, she typed. And at taking pics.
I didn’t want to say that, Ben said. Your pic really doesn’t show a lot, though.
So why did you say it was nice? Irina rolled her eyes. Either Ben was one of those guys who figured a compliment was the best way into a woman’s pants, or he was the most awkward man she’d ever talked to.
Even more awkward than Superaser, one of the Super Group’s token teen members, and that was saying a lot.
LOL, I don’t know, Ben replied. Because it’s what you say at a time like this, I guess. And because I couldn’t think of anything else to say besides hi. Which you probably wouldn’t have answered.
He was right. “Hi” didn’t give Irina nearly enough to go on to bother replying. Even if Ben was floundering in their conversation, he’d at least gotten her to answer.
The cynical part of her brain wondered whether that had been his intention.
Are you looking for something here or only checking out the site? Ben asked.
Irina blinked at the words. She had no answer. If she told him she was there because her mother’s secretary had recommended it, he would probably think she was either a mommy’s girl or desperate.
She wasn’t sure whether she was looking for something or not, but she didn’t want to appear indecisive either.
A little of both, I think, she typed finally. Checking to see whether there’s something here worth looking for.
LOL, I know what you mean.
Ben’s use of “LOL” was getting on Irina’s nerves even though he had only used it twice. At the same time, she found it a little endearing. Maybe it was the text version of a nervous chuckle.
So what do you do for work? Ben asked.
Irina froze. Obviously she couldn’t tell him she was a superhero. The general public was aware they existed, but costumes and supernames existed for a reason. Even names as stupid as hers.
Cover stories existed for a reason, too, and she had a pretty good one. But she didn’t want to start off this potential relationship with a lie.
Potential relationship? Really? She had to wonder about herself sometimes. This wasn’t a potential relationship. So far it was barely a conversation. And everyone lied online. For all she knew, she was talking to a twelve-year-old skateboard kid who’d hacked his father’s laptop.
She typed to Ben before she could have second thoughts. I’m a research assistant for a large company here in the city.
Sounds interesting, he said. I’m a mechanic. Need your chassis checked?
Irina laughed and quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure no one had come in and heard her. From most guys, the chassis comment would have been the creepiest come-on ever. But she didn’t take it as creepy from Ben. After only a few minutes of conversation, he’d convinced her he was a sweet, endearing guy.
She was definitely losing her mind. Knowing anything so specific about someone through an online text conversation was pretty much impossible.
That didn’t mean she could only know about him from what he said, though. She was, after all, the clairvoyant member of the Super Group.
She stared at the computer monitor until her vision blurred. In the center, an image formed. A tall, broad-shouldered man sitting at a desktop computer in a dingy office cubicle. He had slightly too-long dark blond hair which seriously needed attention from either a comb or a pair of scissors. His eyes appeared to be brown, though Irina wasn’t seeing him closely enough to be certain.
He wore a dark blue button-down shirt and a maroon paisley tie, and he was smiling at his computer.
Smiling at her. Her words on his screen, anyway. She could see that much. He wasn’t messaging anyone else. Only her.
She pulled herself back to her reality and typed, So what are you doing here?
Looking for someone who’d be interested in a slightly geeky fanboy workaholic, he replied.
Wow, you sound so appealing! She intended it as a joke. She had nothing against geeks, and fanboys were fine as long as they weren’t fans of Eye-Reen and the rest of the Super Group.
She’d run into guys like that before. One of them had wanted her to predict his moves in bed, because he apparently hadn’t grasped “clairvoyant” meant seeing the present, not the future.
She’d told him his future involved staying away from her so she wouldn’t file a restraining order.
Ben didn’t seem like a super groupie. Even if he were one, he had no way of knowing who he was talking to. As far as he knew, she was a woman with green eyes, based on her screen name, who didn’t take good pictures. A perfectly normal human.
She could play normal. She’d done it for years.
They made small talk for a few more minutes. Where they were from. Whether they had families. If Irina hadn’t seen Ben, she would have wondered if he were married. Married people lying about their relationship status so they could cheat seemed pretty common on that site. But she hadn’t seen a ring or any family photos on Ben’s desk, which meant either he was single or he was really good at hiding things. And the only family he mentioned when she asked was a golden retriever and his parents, who lived in Florida.
She wanted to meet him. Even though they’d only chatted for a brief time, it was enough to pique her interest. She simply wasn’t sure how to bring up the idea.
Crap, boss walked in, Ben typed. I have to go. Want to get coffee sometime?
There it was. The invitation Irina had wanted to issue. Thank goodness Ben had spoken up. Otherwise she might have sat there agonizing for the rest of the afternoon.
Sounds good, she typed quickly. Text me and we’ll give it a try. She added her cell number, the one which wasn’t connected to her Super Group communicator watch.
Immediately, she wished she hadn’t. Now she would have to wait for him to contact her, which might never happen. Guys always asked women for their numbers and then didn’t use them. At least Irina had heard as much from her few non-super female acquaintances.
Ben’s next message surprised her. A phone number. Really want to meet you, he added. If you don’t hear from me by Friday, give me a text or call.
I will. Irina’s mind boggled. He wanted to meet her enough to give her his number. That was a good sign.
She smiled. Maybe her mom had been right after all.
***
She didn’t need to use Ben’s number. He got in touch first. The next morning, he texted to ask her to meet him at a coffee shop in the city. Irina had to do some quick thinking to explain to the rest of the Super Group why she would be out of touch for a while. She wasn’t about to tell them she was seeing a guy she’d met online. They would either make fun of her or tell her she shouldn’t get involved with a human.
She ended up telling them she had a dentist appointment so they wouldn’t be as likely to ask questions when she returned.
The coffee shop was only a few blocks from the Super Group’s top-secret headquarters. It was a warm late-winter day, so Irina walked, hoping the physical action would calm her nerves. By the time she arrived, her heart was racing and her palms were slick with sweat.
She preferred to believe it was from walking in the bright sunlight and forty-degree weather. It had nothing to do with being nervous about meeting Ben.
When she walked in, she spotted him immediately at a table near the rest rooms. His hair was messier than the day before, and he wore a dark green pullover sweater and gray slacks. He looked yummy.
Irina rolled her eyes at her
assessment. Men were not yummy. Cute or handsome, maybe. Not yummy.
But it was still a word that fit Ben.
She started to his table then hesitated. His picture on the dating site didn’t show his entire face, only his hair and eyes. Not necessarily enough for her to be able to recognize him now. And obviously she couldn’t let him know she’d used her psychic powers to see him the day before.
While she waffled on whether to speak to him or not, he stood with a tentative smile. “Greeneyes?”
“Um, yes.” She smiled back. “Irina, remember?”
“I know, but your eyes… they are definitely green.” He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Okay, definitely one of the dumbest things I’ve ever said. Have a seat.”
Irina laughed and sat in the empty chair across from him. He was nervous too. Realizing he felt the same as her made this much easier.
He stayed on his feet. “Do you want something to drink? I’m buying, so splurge if you like.”
“Thanks.” She glanced at the board behind the counter. “Skim mocha. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You showed up.” His face reddened a little. “I wasn’t sure you would, but I was definitely hoping.”
“I’m glad I did.” She looked up at him and realized it was true. She hadn’t planned to actually meet someone who would catch her attention, but so far Ben was exactly what she wanted. A perfectly normal, cute, sweet guy.
He went to the counter and returned a couple minutes later with two coffee cups, one of which he set in front of Irina. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything in it.”
“They make their mochas really sweet.” She took a sip and winced. “Too hot, but tastes fine. Thank—I appreciate it.”
He chuckled. “You’re welcome. So. Um. You look nice. Did you come here on your lunch break or something? I mean, you were at work, right?”
“Yes.” She had to keep up the fiction. She wore a knee-length denim skirt and a white long-sleeved knit shirt, along with the bright red boots she’d bought because they were bright red. Surely the outfit was professional-looking enough to support the claim she’d been working before the coffee date.
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