by Sarah Kuhn
Yes, it was petty. And yes, I’d devoted considerable time convincing myself I was over that shit by now. But Evie had told me to be honest, and if I was being honest, their mutual deflowering was a continuous thorn in my side, the reason I’d believed for so many years that he wanted her, not me. Never me.
He studied me, and I wondered if he was going to tease me for bringing up something that was so far in our angsty teenage past. But, no. He looked sober, thoughtful. Like he was really considering my incredibly petty question.
“Well, on the one hand, we were young and drunk and your basic teenage idiots with no impulse control,” he said. “But on the other, I think she and I needed each other in that moment. She wanted to be with Jay. I wanted to be with you. We settled for each other.” He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. It took every fiber of my being to continue sitting still instead of pouncing. But I really wanted to hear what he had to say. “I was always trying to get your attention. Every time I made you laugh or yell at me, it was a little victory. But you still seemed so far away, like I could never really get your attention. Just like Evie could never get Jay’s.” He smiled. “Anyway. She told you it was pretty bad, right? Two virgins with absolutely zero sexual chemistry, both hung up on other people? The earth did not exactly move.”
“She told me,” I said, my voice faint. “But I still made assumptions and I’ve held on to those assumptions for so many years and . . . I guess I’ve been carrying that around for a while now. As you may have noticed, I’m not great about letting things go.”
He laughed softly, shifted forward on the bed, and reached over to entwine his fingers in mine. “Considering that I held a grudge against you after the First Kiss Incident, I would say I’m not, either.”
He hesitated, his eyes searching my face. I was trying to stay focused on everything he was saying to me, all these words that had built up between us for years. But my concentration was disrupted by the warmth of his fingers pressing against mine. That simple, casual touch sent little frissons of pleasure skittering through my stomach, and I couldn’t seem to get them to stop.
Wait. Was that normal? To want them to stop? Just for a moment, so you could hear all the important things the really hot guy holding your hand was trying to tell you?
You’re killing this relationship thing, Annie Chang. And not the good kind of killing it.
Scott finally spoke, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“When Shasta took you, I could barely function.” His voice had gone low and quiet. “I felt like I was being torn apart. I’d kept you at a distance for so long—but even when we weren’t speaking, I knew you were out there. Saving the world.” He gave me a slight smile. “It never occurred to me how it would feel to actually lose you.”
I had a flash of memory: Scott bursting into Shasta’s shop, hellbent on saving me. I’d been nearly unconscious at that point, but I’d seen his face so clearly, his eyes wild and terrified as he scanned the shop, trying to find me. It had struck me as weird, seeing him like that, when he was usually so calm and collected. I’d chalked it up to the danger of the situation, but maybe there had been more to it.
“When it was all over and everyone was okay, it seemed like you didn’t feel the same way,” he said.
Ah. So he had noticed me pulling away from him at Evie’s bedside.
“And I couldn’t stand feeling that way again, the way I had when I tried to kiss you and you pushed me away—hollowed out, rejected.” His eyes shifted to the side and embarrassment crept into his expression. “So I sort of . . . put a spell on myself.”
“You did what?”
“It’s like an anti-love spell,” he said sheepishly. “That’s why I was indifferent-bordering-on-hostile toward you in those months after we’d defeated Shasta. It was the spell taking effect.”
“And what made you reverse it?” I was still trying to process the idea of an anti-love spell existing. “Or at least, I assume you did. Otherwise I also assume last night wouldn’t have happened?”
“You assume correctly.” He finally flashed me that impish grin I was so accustomed to, his blue eyes dancing. “To be honest, it was that day you flicked me. I realized you really wanted to try to be friends, to work on building something resembling an adult relationship. If you were going to step up, it seemed pretty immature of me not to. Even if my feelings for you weren’t returned.”
“And then I proceeded to pull away from you every chance I got—like that day at the lab, when you told me about grad school and how you’d been feeling confused.” I shook my head. “Even if I didn’t feel . . . the way I feel about you, that’s no way for someone trying to have a true and honest friendship to act. I’m sorry. The truth is, I related way too much to what you were saying. Ever since things changed with Evie, I feel like I’m stumbling around, lost, desperate for anything to get me back on the path of Aveda Jupiter Awesomeness. Like I don’t have anything figured out. And like I really, really should. And that means . . .” I took a deep breath and let myself be honest again. “. . . I don’t know what we’re doing here, either. Do you?”
He squeezed my hand. “No. I’m stumbling around as much as you are. And for the record, you’re always awesome.”
“Great!” I laughed. “So we’re both big, stumbly messes.”
“Awesome, big, stumbly messes,” he corrected, grinning at me. “And maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s okay not to know exactly what we’re doing.”
I gave him a look. “Have you met me?”
“Annie.” He chuckled. “What do you want right now? Don’t think too hard. Just say it.”
“I want us to be honest with each other. I don’t want to pull away from you anymore. I want to try with every fiber of my being not to do that.” I hesitated, then said the thing that scared me most of all. “And I want to be with you. Like a big, naked nerve ending.”
He pulled me closer, so I was basically sitting in his lap. Now I really couldn’t concentrate on anything except all the spots where he was touching me, so I hoped he wasn’t planning on telling me anything else terribly important.
“Why don’t we try that?” he said softly, brushing my hair away from my face. “And see what happens?”
They were simultaneously the most wonderful and most terrifying words I’d ever heard.
“So did you guys have sex again?” Evie asked, as we marched down the street toward Marcus’s shop. “I know we had to rush out to embark on our mission, but part of being a superhero is figuring out how to make the best use of those small pockets of time between evil-fighting—”
“Look at you.” I laughed. “Superheroing tips and sex tips all in one!”
She stuck her tongue out at me. “I’ve learned some things over the last few months, okay?”
“Apparently.” I arched a suggestive brow. “This is definitely going to make the bachelorette party way more interesting—oh.” I gave her an anxious look. “Do you still want me to plan the bachelorette party? After last night’s disaster?”
Evie gave an overly theatrical sigh. “Well,” she said, pretending to think very seriously about it, “as long as you actually listen to me and keep any and all desires for antelope skewers in check.”
“Got it,” I said, matching her serious tone. “But you have to at least let me get you some fancy lingerie, since I kind of ruined Maisy’s perfectly nice gift.”
“Let’s circle back to that. Where do you stand on Lucy’s big bag of sex toys? I suppose those are off the table entirely?”
“Actually,” I said, tapping a finger against my chin, “I’ve grown rather fond of the bag o’ dildos. The fruit punch-flavored condoms came in really handy last night.”
“Wow.” Evie laughed. “So there’s still much, much more you need to tell me. Which you can do at the bachelorette party. Which will be?”
“Just you, me, Lucy, and B
ea at Curry On. Better?”
“Perfect.”
I grinned at her and squared my shoulders as we marched onward.
“This feels good,” she said.
“What, talking about dildos and curry?”
“No. I mean—yes, but I was talking about this.” She gestured from me to herself. “Us. We’re, like, marching into battle together as actual co-heroines.” She paused and played with the ends of her curls. “I know before all this puppy demon business started up, I said I was ready to be a real superheroine, but once that shit got real . . .” She shook her head ruefully. “I started having some, I don’t know—performance anxiety? During the bridal tent incident and the fashion show disaster at Maisy’s shop, when the puppy affected me, it reminded me of how I used to feel about the fire, that sensation of being totally out of control. I’ve learned how to harness and control my power, but with this thing, I just couldn’t. There was nothing I could do except stand there and be helpless. It was like none of the stuff I’ve worked on as far as being a true superhero mattered. It scared the hell out of me. Made me think maybe I’m not cut out for this superhero thing. And I should have brought that up with you, talked it out, but I think I was even more scared to actually say those things out loud. Especially to you. As usual, it was easier for me to just avoid the conversation.”
“Believe it or not, I’ve noticed some of that—your uncertainty, your trepidation,” I said, smiling at her. “And I should have talked to you about it. But as usual, it was easier for me to ‘protect’ you by going ahead with things like getting Bea to try her power out on you. I think this partnership is something we’re still figuring out as well, you know? For so many years, I’ve seen myself as a solo superhero, and I know a lot of people think it’s because I didn’t want to share the spotlight with anyone—and okay, maybe that’s a little bit true—but it’s more that I’m just used to being that way.”
“Aveda Jupiter, Lone Wolf,” Evie intoned, making her voice deep and overly serious. “No, I get it. You’ve always been the one shoving down fear, never letting me or anyone else know those kindergarten bullies and demons of the Otherworld scared you, too.”
“Yes.” I reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “But you’re right. This—” I gestured from me to her. “—feels right. Like I have someone to fully share all that with, finally. Like we’re the partners we were always meant to be.”
“Aw, and talking things out in such a healthy manner,” Evie said, giggling. “Let’s keep this open, honest co-heroine thing going strong.”
We rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt. Marcus’s shop was surrounded. A small crowd of women had clustered around the storefront and were pushing and jostling each other, trying to see in the big window. I recognized some of them from my previous trip to the shop. And the bridal tent. Honestly, I was getting to know the brides of San Francisco way too well.
“Let’s get a closer look,” I muttered to Evie. “But stay stealth. We don’t want to call attention to ourselves just yet.”
We made our way up carefully, trying not to spook the crowd, and positioned ourselves off to the side.
“That’s weird,” Evie said, bouncing on her toes. “It looks like there’s nothing in the window.”
“I did kind of steal the dress that was in there. Maybe that’s what everyone’s gawking at, the naked mannequin?”
“No.” Evie craned her neck, trying to see just a bit further. “There’s literally nothing. As in, the window is empty and it looks like the store is too.”
“What?” Forgetting my previous edict to approach carefully, I shoved my way through the crowd, determined to get to the front. I was acutely aware of some of the brides-to-be throwing me dirty looks, of the chatter as the crowd turned in my direction. At this point, being hated by the bridal population of San Francisco was old hat, so I brushed it off and hoped Evie was following me.
When I reached the window, I saw that Evie’s assessment had been correct. The window was empty—as was the entire store. Even the plush red carpeting was gone, ripped up to reveal dusty plywood flooring. I let my eyes wander to just above the window and—yep. Marcus’s vibrant sign was gone as well. It was like he’d never been here at all.
I turned and faced the bridal crowd. There were about fifteen of them assembled, but they seemed to glower back at me as one. I was vaguely aware of Evie positioning herself next to me.
“Excuse me, citizens,” I said, putting on my best assertive superheroine voice. “Can anyone tell me what happened here?”
They stayed silent. Glowering.
“Evie,” I muttered. “Can you . . .”
“Oh—yes!” She raised her voice to address the crowd. “Can anyone tell us what happened here?” she parroted.
“Why are you still hanging out with her, Evie?” someone shrieked from the middle of the crowd.
“Yeah!” a familiar voice chimed in. I scanned the crowd and found the source: Gwen. “I mean, getting engaged and announcing it at your party? That’s the lowest of the low.”
“That’s not what happened!” I protested. “I’m not really engaged—”
“So you’re faking it?” Redhead Bride from the bridal tent let out an appalled gasp. “That’s even worse.”
“Listen,” Evie said, irritation sparking in her eyes, “all that stuff has been blown out of proportion. Annie—Aveda’s been nothing but a fantastic maid of honor and y’all need to simmer down and get off her back.”
“My god,” Redhead Bride said. “She’s really manipulated you into thinking she’s the bee’s knees, hasn’t she?”
“You need to break free from her,” Gwen added. “I can recommend a good therapist who specializes in toxic friendships.”
“Stop that!” Evie blurted out, her hands balling at her sides. “That’s so unfair!” Her irritation was morphing into full-blown anger. Uh-oh. I put a hand on her arm. I appreciated her support, but there was no need to start setting people on fire on my behalf when all we needed was information. I cocked an eyebrow at her, trying to use our near-telepathy to convey that sentiment. She seemed to pick up on it, her shoulders relaxing, her hands unfisting, and she gave me a small nod.
“Um. Point taken. Aveda and I will definitely have a talk about that later,” she said. “But for now, can one of you please tell me what happened to Marcus’s shop?” She gestured to the abandoned space.
“He decided to relocate his store to LA,” another bride-to-be piped up. “Put a notice on his website this morning.”
“And all of you are here in protest?” I guessed. “Because he did so without fulfilling your gown orders?”
“Pfft, as if,” Gwen said, letting loose with another massive eye-roll. “Get with the times, Aveda Jupiter, nobody wants a Marcus gown anymore. He probably had to move because his business was tanking. His designs are just so . . . modern.”
“And that’s bad?” I asked trying to keep up.
“Everyone who’s anyone only wants true vintage now,” Redhead Bride sniffed.
“So why are you here?” Evie said.
“We’re celebrating, of course!” Gwen cried, brandishing a flask. The other brides cheered in near-unison. It was a little creepy. Wow. These ladies had gone to the trouble of gathering by Marcus’s shop even though none of them wanted his dresses anymore? The intensity of wedding planning really did drive brides-to-be to irrational places and extreme behavior. Then again, I supposed the (mostly self-inflicted) intensity of planning Evie’s wedding had kind of done the same thing to me. I remembered what Bea had said about the pressures of society and the “bridal complex” and tried to give the assembled women the benefit of the doubt.
“You should join us, Evie!” Redhead chirped.
“Maybe later,” Evie said, giving her a game smile. “For now, my maid of honor and I have some important bridal appointments to get
to.” The mention of her disgraced maid of honor brought out the collective stink face again, but Evie ignored them and ushered me away, giving the crowd a little wave.
“What do you make of this?” she said as we shuffled away from the bridal mob.
“Awfully convenient for Marcus to pack up and leave the day after his store played host to a possessed wedding dress. Maybe we should get Mercedes to track him down in LA?”
Mercedes was an old classmate who had gained a “human GPS” type of superpower when the first Otherworld portal opened up. She’d tried to compete with me for the title of San Francisco’s most beloved superheroine, but it hadn’t worked out. She’d eventually relocated to Los Angeles, where there was far less superpowered competition.
Evie snorted. “You’re actually suggesting we call Mercedes for something? Wow.” She nudged me playfully. “You really are changing your tune when it comes to teamwork.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aveda Jupiter believes in efficiency,” I said crisply. “But while we’re here . . .” I scanned the empty storefront. “There’s a back entrance in the alley—and at least as of last night, it was unlocked. Why don’t we try that, poke around the store? At least the parts that aren’t visible to the mob.” I nodded at the Bridezilla crowd that was still buzzing around the front window.
“So we’ll try that stealth thing we failed at so miserably just now,” Evie said, amused.
We stepped into the narrow alleyway, and I felt momentarily comforted by the relative quiet compared to the mob scene out front. I zeroed in on the back door to Marcus’s shop, which was mid-way down the alley, and did a double-take when I spotted a lone figure slipping out.
“That’s Marcus’s assistant,” I muttered to Evie. “What’s he doing?” I raised my voice and called out to him. “Franz!”
Franz whipped around, his eyes widening when he saw me—then took off in the opposite direction.
“Wait, stop!” I cried. “We need to talk to you!”
Once again, so much for stealth.
