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By the time they got back to the blanket, they were exhausted, but the good kind of exhaustion that came from sitting in the sun and having at least a few hours without worrying about anything but each other.
For a long time to come, Nick would remember this moment as their last before everything changed. He would look back, years from now, and know that at the very least, they had this day, this afternoon where the sun was shining and nothing hurt. And he would smile, because regardless of what came next, he had the best friends a queer kid with an overactive brain could ask for.
But that was later.
This was now:
Seth said, “I think I swallowed fountain water. Ugh.”
Jazz said, “It’s in my damnears.”
Gibby said, “Did you hear how Seth screamed? Man, I thought someone was going to think we were kidnapping him.”
Nick said, “We gotta do that again after I catch my breath. I—”
Someone sat down on the blanket next to them. Nick turned his head, a question on his lips, a look of confusion on his face.
But the only sound that came out of Nick’s mouth was a sharp exhalation when he saw who was sitting next to him, resting back on his hands as if he’d always been there, just enjoying the day with the rest of them.
He looked different than when Nick had last seen him. Thinner. Paler, his blond hair shaggy. He wore shorts. Running shoes with no socks. A white shirt stretched over his strong chest. And that devastating smirk that drove Nick up the damn wall.
“Hey,” Owen Burke said easily. “Long time no see. Missed you guys. What haveyoubeen up to?”
The effect was instantaneous. Jazz bared her teeth, grabbing a plastic fork and flipping it in her hand as if she was going to stab him in the face. Gibby stood swiftly, knocking over her bottle of sparkling water, the contents spilling onto the grass, hands curling into fists at her sides. Seth snarled, the temperature rising as a lick of fire burst from his hands.
Nick, though. Nick just sat there, dumbfounded, disbelieving what he was seeing. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t doanythingbut stare at Owen, who turned his head toward him, winking in that way he did, inviting, dangerous. Nick’s stomach twisted slickly, gorge rising in his throat, bitterness coating his tongue.
Seth raised his hand, eyes ablaze, and Owen said, “Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Seth. There are so manywitnesses.Have you thought this through? You look like you want to light me up in front of everyone.” He pouted, bottom lip sticking out. “That doesn’t seem very heroic of you.”
“I don’t care,” Seth growled, more than a little Pyro Storm in his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” He didn’t lower his hand, the stench of smoke thick and pungent.
Owen tilted his head back and laughed, and Nick was reminded of when that sound thrilled him to no end. Owen had been Nick’s first… well. Almost first everything. First kiss. First sort-of boyfriend. First breakup. First (and so far only) former flame who’d turned into a villain and had tried to kill them.
You never forgot your first.
“Calm down,” Owen said, shaking his head as if disappointed. “I’m not here to hurt you. If anything, I want to help you.” He stretched out his leg, tapping his shoe against Nick’s leg. “Looking good, Nicky. Being an Extraordinary suits you.” He grinned, all teeth. “Guess you didn’t need those pills after all, huh?”
Nick crab-walked backward, hands squashing fruit andhalf-eaten sandwiches. He yelped when his back collided with Seth’s legs.
Never looking away from Owen, Jazz said, “Gibby, could you do me a favor? Move a little bit to the right. No,myright. There you go. Seth, to my left, please. Thank you. Nick, can you stand next to Seth?”
Nick nodded slowly, the roaring in his ears like a hurricane. He rose carefully, arm brushing against Seth’s.
“Hooray,” Jazz said, barely blinking, her big eyes wide and innocent. “Gibby, is anyone looking at us?”
“No.”
“Perfect,” Jazz said. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”
And then she lunged forward, stabbing Owen in the thigh with her plastic fork, twisting her wrist so the handle broke, leaving the prongs embedded in his leg. His face screwed up as if he were about to shout in pain but before he could, Jazz brought her arm back and then let it fly, fist colliding with Owen’s mouth. His head snapped back, top lip splitting, an arc of blood falling onto his shirt, the red stark against the white.
“You goddamn—” Owen groaned, hands going to his face. “Shit, thathurt.”
“Good,” Jazz snapped, going for him again, only to have Gibby pull her back before she could do more damage. “You’re lucky I’m not in heels because I’d have shoved one so far up your ass, you’d have been gargling the cow the leather came from.”
Owen dropped his hand, staring at the blood on his fingers. Something dark crossed his face, and Nick was reminded of McManus Bridge, Shadow Star floating above him, Rebecca Firestone screaming. But the look disappeared, as if Owen had swallowed it back down. Cocking his head, he pinched the plastic jutting from his leg and pulled it out, grimacing. He stared at it for a moment before dropping it to his side. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said seriously. “Is that any way to greet an old friend? For shame, Jazz. Though, to be honest, I’m impressed. Wouldn’t have figuredyoufor the scary one.”
“Oh,” Jazz said, struggling against Gibby’s hold on her. “I haven’t even begun to show you scary.”
