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Zuri nodded at Fellow Superhero, who definitely wasn’t as lonely as he made out to be. “Hey you! I didn’t hear you knock so thought I’d come check—”
He smiled at her. It was interesting. Objectively, as a scientist (fuckboiologist and mandemologist), it was different from the smile he gave me. The smile he gave her was mainstream, pop, radio-friendly. The smile he’d given me was the single released after an artist had established themselves, found their voice, could speak directly to their target audience. The smile he’d given me had more R&B to it.
He walked toward the open door. “Sorry, the lift took its time—”
Zuri nodded absentmindedly, throwing her gaze to me, “Hey Kiki, wassup?”
She wasn’t suspicious—I wasn’t a threat; I was never a threat. I was known as The One Who Didn’t Date—but that was precisely why my presence there was curious. I didn’t have a clique and I lived with my best friend. Weren’t nobody for me to visit. I’d thought this through, though. I had an alibi in a girl (not a member of the Black caucus) I had a political communication module with, and who also happened to live in flat 604.
“I was just picking up some notes from Ilana.” I patted my satchel. “Missed a lecture today. Cramps.”
I briefly wondered if the detail was overkill but Zuri had stopped listening halfway through my sentence anyway. Her hand was already curving around Fellow Superhuman’s sturdy arm and she was looking up at him, her long lashes batting. “Cool. Awesome. I’m just... going over a tutorial too. Can’t wait for your next show!”
She pulled him into her flat, but not before he threw me an inscrutable look. I shook my head, smiled, and pressed the lift button. Yeah,somethingwas gonna be studied that night. A relief, really. My understanding of fuckboiology had fallen out of whack for a second. It was nice to have it reset. Whoever he was, he was just like the rest. That was comforting.
