Superman Stole My Tights

C H A P T E R N I N E

"There is a superhero in all of us, we just need the courage to put on the cape"- Superman 

Nov. 15

8: 03 pm

Focal City

23 Crescent Road

"You!" my eyes widen to the size of the saucers. Guardian takes a step closer, and already shaken up I don't think before grabbing my Chemistry textbook off my desk and holding it up in the air, prepared to throw. "Get out of my room before I scream." Like always, judging the supers expression is a constant guessing game, but he's not smiling anymore that's for sure. 

"Rowan Hayes, I'm usually the one to answer a girls scream." My hold on the textbook tightens, even though the angle in which I'm holding is beginning to strain my arm. 

"I meant get the police-" Guardian laughs, cutting me off. 

"I'm much more effective then the police," he says, taking a daring step towards me. I move to pint the book accusingly at his chest, my face a mask that I hope looks unimpressed. 

"You're more reckless. There's a difference," I rebut. He takes another step.

"I get results." Another step.

"Your methods are immoral." Another again. 

"They work-"

"They're childish. You're nothing more than a six year old in a cape." His jaw is locked, his gaze heated and somehow he's managed to push back my previously extended arm without me noticing. We're so close the only thing   separating our chests from touching is the 300 pages explaining trends in the periodic table of elements I'm still holding onto. He searches my eyes for something, and as I stare back into his something at the back of my head hits me. But before I can distinguish the feeling he's speaking again,

"You don't even know me." I narrow my eyes at his words. 

"Yes. I do. The Guardian!  Focal's shinning beacon, making way for  light in a city of thieves and crooks," I say the last part in a falsetto voice, mocking him. "What I don't understand is why you can't do all that without being less of a safety hazard." I try to push him back, forcing  the textbook into his chest and pushing. He grabs my wrist, stopping me from pushing him farther. 

"We'll be coming for you at noon Rowan Hayes, I suggest you be prepared. Or you know, don't be, and I won't bother saving you the next time come creep come crawling out of some gutter looking for your neck." He's too close to me, and for some crazy reason one of the many thoughts flying through my head is that he smells good. Like really good. Which is weird for a guy in spandex. The next second he's gone, disappearing outside my window with a gust of wind shaking my curtains. 

The only sign of him ever being here is the coolness on my wrist where his hand used to be. 

I flop on my bed, throwing the textbook to my side-lot of good it did me, I should have dropped it on his foot. I replay the whole encounter through my head over and over again. 

Noon. They're coming at noon.

I remember his blue eyes again, they're intense stare. That same feeling from before hits me again, like a bell ringing at the back of my head. Only now I realize what it is.