“So here’s a question,” Jesse asks as we head into the comic-book store. I almost don’t hear him because I’m looking at his ass. The costume fits him perfectly—okay, maybe it’s a smidge too tight—and the fabric clings to every curve of his body. You can even see the outlines of his six-pack abs. It’s a good thing it came with an athletic cup, or everybody in the shop would be about to get an eyeful of my boyfriend’s package.
Fake boyfriend, Maddy. Fake.
Right. “What’s your question?” I ask him.
“I thought you were a Marvel girl. Batman isn’t Marvel.”
I shrug. It’s one of those discussions we get into at the shop all the time. Are we really loyal to Marvel if we like Batman? Are we really loyal to DC if we like the Avengers? “Everybody likes Batman.” It’s as good an explanation as any. Truth is, I like Batman, and I also like Wonder Woman, and I don’t care what Marvel purists think because they’re not the boss of me.
“Okay, then.” He adjusts the costume across his butt and steps inside.
All eyes turn toward us at once, and there’s one of those moments when there’s almost a complete silence. I’m simultaneously amused and terrified at the scrutiny.
“Hi, Mads!” Billie hollers then and breaks the spell, but every female gaze in the store is still locked on to Jesse. I want to preen and strut, but I also kind of want to kill every single one of them.
Fake boyfriend, Maddy. Apparently I can’t repeat this to myself often enough or loudly enough. It doesn’t seem to be soaking in.
Billie sidles up to me as Jesse makes a beeline for the drink station. Someone dressed as the Joker blocks his way, totally in character. Jesse gives him a look, and Joker-man gets out of the way like he can’t move fast enough.
Damn, that’s hot.
“He is looking good,” says Billie with a smirk. At the same time Christopher tugs on my hand.
“Mommy. Go play?” As usual, there’s a kids’ station set up in a corner, and I recognize several of the little ones as some of Christopher’s favorite playmates.
I let go of his hand. “Yep. Go have fun, honey.”
He scampers off, adorable in his Robin outfit. It didn’t quite fit the Batman/Catwoman motif, but I couldn’t really dress them as the couple’s actual kid, since they had a girl. It’s damn cute, though.
“So,” Billie says, “have you banged Batman yet?”
I shush her harshly and grab her hand, dragging her off to a corner where we can talk in private. “God, Billie. Do you mind?”
She grins. “Yes, I do mind. And if you tell me you haven’t banged him yet, I’m checking you into the nearest mental hospital immediately.”
I glance around to be sure no one is in earshot. It’s a safe corner. “He’s not really my boyfriend.”
“What?” She’s genuinely shocked. I’m not sure why—it’s obvious we’re not exactly compatible.
I tell her the whole sordid story while Billie shakes her head, crosses her arms over her chest, and occasionally makes a “tut” noise.
“God, you are so judgey,” I tell her when I’m done.
“And you are so clueless, honey.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is no way that man isn’t into you in a big way.”
“Why would he be? C’mon, Billie. I’m a huge geek, and he’s…” I glance his way. He’s sipping at a drink while five women in slinky costumes—there’s a Batgirl, a Harley Quinn, and three Wonder Womans—appear to be hanging on his every word. “I mean, look at him.”
“I have looked at him.” She looks at him again, as if to demonstrate, devouring him with her eyes. “He is fine, girl.”
“Exactly. He’s hot, I’m not. He’s a fireman, and I’m a geek. He hates cats, and I love animals. I like to read and watch movies, and he likes to…” I realize I don’t actually know what he likes to do in his spare time, and make a vague wave in his general direction. “I don’t know. Work out, I guess.”
“Honey.” She says it like I’m the dimmest creature she’s ever met in her life. “That man put on spandex for you. Don’t tell me he’s not into you.”
“We made a deal. He promised to come to this party, that’s all.”
“Ri-i-ght.” I don’t get why this is all so hard for Billie to understand. Glancing over at Jesse again, I realize he’s watching me. He gives me a broad wink. I smile back involuntarily.
Billie pounces on that like a cat on a gerbil. “See? Totally into you. Don’t even try to tell me he’s not.”
“I told you—we have nothing in common.”
She waves it off. “Yeah, that’s just a bunch of bullshit excuses. Girl, you need to close the deal on this one.”
After all my protesting, I don’t want to admit that I have “closed the deal,” as she put it. But that was nothing. It was just a one-time thing. A romp.
Right?
“He likes you,” Billie says. “Trust me. And you like him.”
I can’t actually deny that one, though I shake my head. If I admit out loud that I like him, it’ll feel real, and I can’t afford that. “It’s just an arrangement so I can go to school. That’s all.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
Jesse motions toward me to join him, and I take advantage of the moment to disengage from Billie, even though I can hear her chuckling as I head across the room.
Jesse puts his arm around me as I approach, drawing me against him. “Are you having fun?” I ask.
“I was having a great time checking you out,” he says with a leer. “I could look at you all night with that tight outfit on.” He kisses my temple. I can almost feel the other women prickling with jealousy. “You want a drink?”
“Sure. Surprise me.” He turns to fetch a drink from the drink station. He’s just putting peach schnapps into a glass of orange juice when there’s a sudden commotion from the kids’ corner, the sound of wooden blocks falling, and Christopher’s bloodcurdling wail.
I spin to see what’s going on. Christopher is on the floor, big blocks all around him. I take a step toward him, heart in my throat, but he gets up and starts running toward me, screaming, tears flying from his eyes. So maybe he’s hurt a little, but I’m guessing he’s mostly just scared from the noise and tumult.
I drop to my knees, and he runs into my arms. Up close, I can see a bruise forming on his forehead and a cut on his lip. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Blocks fall,” he says through his sobs. “Blocks fall boom. Owie.”
“Yeah, you’ve got a little owie.” I check the cut on his lip. It’s bleeding, but not bad. “Let’s go clean this up.”
But he’s collapsed into full-blown tears again, his head butted into my chest. “Christopher, honey, let me go get a paper towel so I can clean up your boo-boo, okay?”
He’s not listening. All he wants to do is hang on me and cry. I try to disentangle him so I can talk to him logically, but he’s two. Logic isn’t in his repertoire.
“Hey, little dude.” This is Jesse, who I suddenly realize has squatted next to me on the floor. “I’m a paramedic. Let me look at that boo-boo while your mom goes to get something to clean it up.”
“Pamedic?” Christopher gives it a good try, the tears fading a little at the novelty of the situation.
“Yep. It’s kind of like a doctor, but I get to drive a truck.”
“Truck?”
“Truck” is like a magic word to Christopher. He immediately goes to Jesse, who takes a look at the cut on Christopher’s lip while I slide quietly away to the bathroom to grab a wet paper towel.
In the bathroom I take a second to get my breath. The accident happened so quickly, and even though it’s not serious, seeing the blood on Christopher’s face gave me an adrenaline surge that’s taking some time to settle back down. And Jesse… He might not have kids of his own, but he sure knows the right things to say to my kid.
I shake my head a little, laughing at myself. The adrenaline has changed into a regular old hormone surge. Seeing a guy relate to my kid is apparently a major turn-on for me. Who knew?
I head back out, paper towel in hand, to see Jesse standing, Christopher tucked against his hip. Christopher is sucking on his fingers, and there are still red streaks on his face, but he’s also laughing while Jesse talks to him. Jesse grins, bringing up a fan of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.
I stop dead, just staring. I’m not the only one captivated, either—both the Wonder Womans, the Harley Quinn, and a stray Black Widow have formed a circle around Jesse, all trying to comfort Christopher but mostly just ogling Jesse. I could almost swear there’s a vague “pssshht” noise as all the ovaries in the room collectively explode.
Mine included. Not really your boyfriend, I remind myself, clench my teeth, and make my way through Jesse’s crowd of admirers to tend to my son.
Like most toddlers, Christopher bounces back from the horrible block-falling incident and is quickly engaged in playing with the other kids again. It’s starting to get a little late, though, and I can tell he’s getting tired. He’ll be getting grumpy soon.