I'M YOUR PUPPET; invincible

chapter 2

    "I'm, uh, gonna go help finish the reconstruction, up in Chicago." She winced, turning to look at Mark. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make that weird for you or..."

    Mark turned, his attention finally drifting from the sunset to his friends. "No, that's...that's amazing."

    Amber pointed the mouth of her bottle in Eve's direction. "Do you ever miss punching bad guys in the face? Seems cathartic."

    "Right now," the redhead said, "I'm just happy helping people. The punching can be left to Loren."

    William drawled, leaning towards Eve, "Speaking of.." and tipped his empty bottle upside down.

    With hardly any thought from Eve, a bunch of pinecones turned into beer bottles up for the taking. They each reached for one, though Loren abstained. Mark, too, did not take one, far too busy occupying himself with...whatever he was doing.

    "God," William grinned. "I love having superhero friends. I mean Eve, specifically. Mark won't even take me flying anymore. Boo. Hiss."

    Amber held her bottle out. "To graduation and new beginnings." She turned, face falling. "Mark?"

    "I'm on call. Cecil might need me."

    "You're always on call now," William said. "Loren is, too, but she's still enjoying herself."

   "That's the job."

    "It's alright," Eve said, reaching for the last remaining beer bottle, transforming it in her hand. "Here," she offered with a grin.

    Mark frowned. "What's this?"

   "Virgin mai tai."

    "Very funny."

   They stood around each other, Loren raising the bottle of Coca Cola in her hand as Amber said, "Cheers, guys. To the best summer ever."

    It was later in the day, the sky black, when Mark landed on Loren's front steps. He looked up at the front door, hearing the muffled echo of music from inside the town-house.

    He raised his hand, knuckles rasping against the door. It was only a moment later that a voice called out, "Come in!"

    He pushed through the door, head peeking inside. He found Loren immediately, her gaze focused on the pan before her. She was dressed in soft shorts and a hoodie that threatened to drown her. It was then that he noticed the slight muss of her brown hair and the disorder of her home.

    His brows furrowed. "Did you have someone over earlier?"

    She looked up, cheeks turning red. "Oh, um, yeah. Just for a little while." She shook her head, looking back down at the pasta she was cooking. "Why?"

    "It's just all...messy. Well, not messy. But messy for you." Mark shrugged, sitting down on a stool opposite of where she stood at the stove. "You're a bit of a neat-freak."

    Loren laughed. "Before you start analyzing every inch of my life, do you want some pasta?"

    "Why are you eating so late? It's almost midnight."

    She avoided his gaze. "I was hungry. It's homemade pesto pasta with grilled chicken." She turned her back, rising onto her toes to reach for two bowls. "You'll probably try to steal some of mine, so you get your own bowl."

    "Loren," Mark said, watching as she finally stopped and turned. Stool still, holding the bowls to her chest. "What's wrong with you?"

    "Nothing is wrong with me, Mark."