Chapter Six
ALEX
*
Well, at least I had her talking – and as I watched her dig into the mountain of food that she'd ordered on my dime, I considered that she probably wouldn't be running away from me. Not quickly, not with all that heavy food settling into her stomach.
After the waitress walked away, I quickly dashed off inside my head that she hadn't heard that request for all the red onion after all. Nasty stuff, it was, and I couldn't stand the way it crunched between my teeth, the pungent, bitter harshness of its taste. She didn't give me any indication that my little trick worked – but when the food arrived, several minutes later, it wasn't covered in piles of disgusting red onion slivers.
From the sour look that Paxton shot at me, she'd guessed that, somehow, I had interfered with her petty and childish attempt to mess with me. Still, why was she mad? She'd thrown the first punch by requesting all the red onion; I just countered it.
And she'd revealed a little more, although it still didn't answer any of my real questions. She didn't seem to show any interest in superheroes, and nothing in her life that she'd described so far gave me any suggestion that she might possess anything similar to my power. If someone had the power to change their circumstances, change anything around them, why would they work for their uncle's bookstore? Why would they desire screw-top wine and a bathtub in an apartment?
She seemed... I hesitated on the word for a second, but it fit. Ordinary.
Completely, totally normal. As plain as they could come. The only thing that seemed the slightest bit unusual about her was her name.
And yet, I knew that she wasn't.
I'd tried, several times as she complained to me about how she didn't want to be out here, how she'd rather be back at her dull little apartment, losing herself in a fantasy about some character in a trashy romance novel, to use my powers on her. I tried everything, from influencing her thoughts, to her actions, to even messing with her appearance.
I got nothing back. Even trying to change her hair color had no effect. She was, as far as my power was considered, untouchable.
Or was she...?
Suddenly, Paxton shivered, breaking off her latest complaint mid-sentence. "Whoa, it just got really chilly in here," she muttered.
It wasn't; I'd dropped the temperature of the air in a bubble around her. Okay, so my powers weren't totally negated around her; they just couldn't touch her directly. But I could do things that she felt.
"Really? I feel fine," I said aloud, trying to inject honest concern into my voice. I reached across the table and put my hand on the back of her own, feeling the chill of her skin and of the air inside the little bubble I'd conjured up.
She pulled her hand away, hesitating for just a fraction of a second. For a moment, I considered turning back on the ability to read minds, to see if I could get a glimpse inside her head. She'd been nothing but cold towards me all night, but was there some attraction there, hidden and repressed?
Not that I wanted there to be anything. I could have my pick of supermodels, could literally sweep them off their feet and into my bed. I didn't need plain, ordinary Paxton to join the ranks of women who'd left notches on my bedpost.
Instead of trying to recapture her hand, I turned my attention to the mountain of food that she'd ordered, spread out across a dozen dishes and baskets. "Pretty tasty food here, isn't it?" I commented, popping a couple of deep-fried cheese curds into my mouth and savoring the rush of greasy, crunchy goodness with that soft and creamy center.
"Tasty and unhealthy," Paxton muttered, although I noticed that it didn't stop her from taking more than a few bites of everything. She hadn't been kidding about feeling hungry.
Keep her talking, I reminded myself. Still need to figure out if there's anything special about her. Maybe she just hasn't discovered her powers yet – you didn't always have them, after all. Figure out if there's anything unusual in her background.
"So, you work for your uncle at his bookstore," I mentioned casually between bites of buffalo garlic fries. "How long have you done that?"
"Ever since college." She kept the answer short, clearly trying to keep a lid on how much about her personal life she revealed to me. What was putting her on such high alert? Was she still upset because I'd made one rude comment to her when I first saw her? Hadn't I apologized for that, multiple times, by now?
"And it's your favorite job, is it?"
"What, are you trying to recruit me for something?" She lifted her gaze, shooting me a hot, angry glare. "Because I got to say, you've made a hell of a first impression, although probably not in the way that you wanted."
I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Easy, easy! I'm just trying to be friendly."
"Friendly?" she repeated, sounding disbelieving. "And it was friendly when you demanded that I flash you, even though we were total strangers?"
"I said that I was sorry-"
She scooted out from the booth, jumping up to her feet. "I think I've just lost my appetite."
When she jumped up to her feet, for a second, her sweater shifted. I don't know why my brain decided to notice it, but that subtle shifting revealed to me that she wasn't totally shapeless under the shapeless clothing. There was the slightest little bob of her chest that suggested a considerable pair of tits hiding beneath the bland and featureless sweater. Maybe Miss Ordinary wasn't quite as unattractive as her first impression suggested.
Not that I had any chance of scoring, I reminded myself. Between her impossible-to-explain immunity to my powers, and her ice queen attitude, I wasn't going to get anywhere.
But still, I could keep on acting like the perfect gentleman. If nothing else, maybe it would emphasize the hypocrisy of how she was treating me so harshly.
I stood up as well, pulling a hundred-dollar bill out of my wallet and dropping it on the table. I saw Paxton's eyes flit towards it, then back to me as I moved away from where we'd been sitting.
"Aren't you going to wait for your change?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Don't need it. The waitress can keep it as a tip – a thank you from me for leaving off the red onion."
Paxton looked torn, her expression flitting between incredulity and suspicion. "How did you tell her to leave it off?" she asked, looking as if she'd been trying to resist asking this question, but hadn't quite managed it.
I grinned, hitting her with my best wink. "That's a secret that I can't reveal on the first date, lady."
"This is NOT a date," she snapped back, and my grin widened as I guessed, correctly, that I'd hit a nerve. Not hard to do, but still. Point for Alex.
"Whatever you say." I headed past her, moving ahead just so that I could hold the door open for her. The frown as she went through told me that my little act of chivalry hadn't gone unnoticed.
"So, you're rich," she commented, once we were outside. "That explains a lot."
"Oh? What does it explain?"
"Your assholishness," she answered frankly, turning to look sidelong at me through one eye and watch if her insult landed.
I carefully made sure that my face didn't so much as twitch. "I'm not an asshole. After all, would an asshole buy a dozen appetizers for a woman who kept on insulting him?"
"A stupid one would, one with more money than sense," she countered.
I had a retort for that one ready. "Well, I've got quite a lot of money, so that doesn't hurt me too much. You can keep trying, though - seems pretty clear that hurting me is what you want."
Her face shut down. Hah! Second point for Alex. She muttered something under her breath, too softly for me to catch.
"Sorry?" I said. "What was that?"
She raised her eyes up to me, looking like I was forcing a confession out of her through physical torture. "Thank you," she spat out through gritted teeth.
"Really?" Honestly, I hadn't been expecting that, and was caught off guard.
"Yeah." She tightened her lips, as if trying to hold back the next words, but they still slipped out. "Maybe I was a little bit harsh on you. So I forgive you for telling me to... reveal myself. I guess you were just too drunk to know what you were saying."
Well, it wasn't the greatest apology I'd ever received, but I would take it. It was better than I'd hoped to receive, honestly. Perhaps my powers were blocked by unusual levels of anger?
"And now, to further emphasize your apology, you're willing to give me that flash of your breasts that you've been holding back all evening," I wrote inside my head, being very careful to not speak the words out loud as I traced them in lines of yellow fire on the inner swell of my skull.
Nothing. Paxton's eyes tightened. "Why are you just looking at me and moving your lips?" she asked.
"No reason," I said quickly. "So, where'd you park?"
"Around the corner, in the ramp. Why?"
"Me too," I said, even though I hadn't driven a car to the club. Why drive a car to someplace where I intended to get drunk? "Let me walk you back to it."
"Really not necessary," she said, but she didn't start walking away from me yet.
"I insist," I replied, stepping forward. "It's the honorable thing to do, after all. Maybe, if I act like a knight in shining armor, I can reclaim my good standing in your very exacting graces."
"I'll dub thee, 'Sir Asshole,' then," she said, and I snorted at the unexpected joke.
We picked up the pace, moving back to the parking structure. Paxton took the steps ahead of me, and I couldn't keep my eyes from drifting down towards her ass as it climbed in front of me. It wasn't because I was attracted to her, of course; it's just instinctual, like catching a baseball when someone tosses it underhand to you.
From the glimpses that I could get when her steps pulled the baggy jeans somewhat tight, it wasn't actually too bad of an ass. Rounder than most of the girls that I pulled, but then again, there was something a little depressing about seeing the stick-thin, bony butts that most models have. Sometimes, I found myself wishing that those girls came with a few more curves...
"Hey, Sir Asshole, you're not making me regret forgiving you for your first comment, are you?" Paxton asked, still climbing, and I hastily dragged my eyes away from her rear end. She couldn't read minds, could she?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I responded, hastily writing inside my head that no, my cheeks were not blushing, thank you very much! If there was any pinkness there, it was just from the effort of climbing three flights of stairs.
She turned and glanced back at me, frowning as I paused to catch my breath. "What, are you out of shape from climbing a couple stairs?" she asked in surprise.
"Yeah, 'cause I'm smart enough to usually park somewhere with an elevator – or better yet, valet parking," I countered. "How are you not out of breath?"
She smiled. "Because my apartment is on top of my uncle's bookstore, so I have to climb up and down the stairs every time I want to go home. No elevator there."
"In that case, I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer to join you at home," I said, leaning slightly forward to keep my hands on my knees. There we go. Breath was starting to come more easily. "You can beg, but I'm not willing to climb more stairs to get to your apartment."
She snorted and showed me her upturned middle finger, but I saw her trying not to smile. "And Sir Asshole once again lives up to his name," she said, and this time I heard the note of concealed laughter in her voice as well.
Reaching into her pocket, Paxton pulled out a key ring. "Here's my car," she said, walking over to a rather beat-up Honda Civic with rust patches above the rear wheel wells. "Thanks for the food and not making me use my pepper spray on you in this parking structure, Sir Asshole."
"You're really sticking with that nickname, are you," I sighed. "Great."
She unlocked the driver's side door – by putting the key in the door, even! Not even with a key fob! – and gave me a smirk of her own. "What's the matter? It leave you feeling a little impotent? Pestered and unable to perform?"
Wow. As if only just realizing what she'd said to me, Paxton suddenly flushed, redness rushing into her cheeks so strongly that it was visible even in the dim light of the parking garage. "Anyway, it wasn't totally awful, meeting you," she finished, and ducked down into the car before I could form a reply.
I watched her leave, feeling strangely like I did when I escorted some of the supermodels out of my apartment the next morning. Ridiculous, of course. This wasn't a date, and I had no romantic interest in Paxton.
But I still wasn't sure how she was able to resist my powers. Could it be some metal object she wore, neutralizing me? Did she have latent powers that hadn't awoken yet? Was she my Kryptonite?
Finally, I turned around, looking back at the three flights of stairs I'd need to descend if I wanted to catch a cab back to my apartment.
"Screw that," I muttered to myself. I walked over to the door leading back into the stairwell, put my hand on the handle as I did a little writing inside my head to restructure the universe, just a little bit.
I opened the door and stepped through – right into my apartment, as if the door in the parking structure was connected by a wormhole of some sort, right to my own front door. Which, in effect, is what I'd done.
Closing the door behind me, I undid that little bit of broken physics and headed to the kitchen to grab a beer out of my fridge.
It seemed, at least, like this Paxton wasn't going to make much trouble for me. I could put her out of my mind, out of my life.