Never Been Kissed(52)

“Matty, flying around doesn’t mean you’re better than anybody else.”

His little face clearly conveys that I am a) insane, and b) weird. “He’s the best because he can fly! Duh.”

I shake my head, and move to stand, grabbing a hold of his hands. I look around Hunter’s apartment – the exact mirror of mine, minus the whole geektastic accessories – and settle us at the kitchen table. I feel more than hear or see Hunter move to the kitchen.

“Batman’s parents died when he was a kid.” Oh fuck, Matty’s tearing up. I hold onto his fingers between mine. “But he grew up to be a good man, a strong man, one dedicated to stop crime, to save lives, maybe to forgive himself that he couldn’t do it when he was younger, that he couldn’t save his Mom and Dad. Clark was born super strong – there’s nothing special about that.”

Matty’s eyes are bright, and he ends up staring down at our hands. “So... Being strong means you’re not a hero?”

I smile. “It means that anybody can do the right thing. Anybody. Understand?”

“No.”

I look up from our conversation to see Hunter staring at me, face unreadable. His arms are braced on the kitchen counter, and he’s practically glaring.

“You and I both helped your Dad when he was tired, right? We helped him out, right?”

Matty’s face lights up, and he kisses me on the cheek. “I’m Batman! Daddy, I’m Batman!” Matty moves away from my grip and bounces into the kitchen, that tuft of hair in the back of his head flopping up and down.

I look up at Hunter as he ignores his kid. Hunter MacLaine isn’t Superman, or Batman, or the Flash or Green Lantern. Hunter doesn’t need a costume, or a cape. Doesn’t mean he isn’t a superhero in his own right.

I swallow hard, wondering if he’s as nervous as I am. If he is, the big bastard doesn’t look it.

Maybe he’s changed his mind about...us? Maybe he’s decided I’m too skittish, too insecure. And that’s fine, really. I can deal with that. We could really be friends now, and I could babysit the little man and life would go on as normal.

“The pizza’s not here yet, but give it fifteen minutes. Can I get you a drink?” Hunter’s voice has gotten deeper, and there’s a dangerous look about him. He ends up moving from the counter, and coming to sit across from me at the dining table, while Matty plops himself on the couch and starts bringing up Netflix.

“You look beautiful,” Hunter says, his movements so damn slow, I feel the inches of space separating us compress with energy as he comes close enough that our knees bump. He lands a kiss on my cheek, lips staying there longer than what a usual kiss on the cheek goes for, all warm and soft. Oh, wow.

“Alright...” I can’t say thank you to the compliment. As screwed up as I am, I’m not sure I believe him. Instead, I smile at him when he lifts his head from me, blue eyes full of questions.

“Drink?” He prompts again, eyes roving my face.

“Sure. Water, please.”

“I’ve got a real die-hard party girl, over here.”

I blink slowly at him. I’m not used to Hunter teasing me in this way, being this close. I drink it up, this tiny moment of affection because I know that no matter what happens, I’m going to cherish it until the day I die.

“Yeah, I know. I’m badass like that.”

“Bad word! Sera said a bad word!” Matty’s between us now, bouncing up and down, tugging on my hands. “You owe me a whole quarter!” He makes it sound like I owe him a million bucks, my left kidney, and my signed copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone.

Hunter leans back from me, a tiny grin on his face, while he ruffles Matty’s hair. I push my glasses back up my nose, and enjoy the moment. Goddamn Hunter MacLaine is fraking hot. And sweet. And badass. And I’m going to have pizza with him!

“I’ll pay for her today, bud. We invited her for supper; we can’t just make her give us money.”

Matty’s eyes cloud with confusion. “But she said a bad word!”

I ruffle his hair, super aware of Hunter moving behind me, close enough to touch as he goes into his kitchen, opening cupboards. “I know, buddy. Sorry.”

To Hunter, I ask, “Can I help with anything? How ‘bout me and Matty get the table in order?”

“What does that mean – get the table in order? It’s a table, Sera.” I start laughing as I tickle Matty, the tension from before completely gone.

“It means that we need to set up all the plates, glasses, fork, knives and napkins. Do you have placemats, Hunter?”