Twenty #2
He squeezes my hand. “Now I can make the sky roar.”
The rain pours down fiercely, pattering on each leaf and leaving the air cold and misty. This is why Supers don’t talk about how they got their powers, I realize. If we could give them back, we would. I would give my soul to see Mom again.
I think of Arielle and Mayor Bridges and the ostentatious display of power in the ballroom, and my hands rise. A heaviness falls on my shoulders as the mist dissipates. Quickly, the clouds ascend over the mansion, rain pouring down in full force.
No way. I pushed them there.
It lasts for only a few seconds, until the weight becomes too much and I have to let go. I gasp and, in an instant, the clouds float back over our tree, unleashing the rain on us.
“Very cool, Roberts.” D.S. applauds. “Well done.”
“Is it always exhausting?” My knees shake from the exertion. I reach to loosen my mask, its edges digging into my skin.
“You build it up,” he says. “It just takes practice. Here.” D.S. moves until his face is inches from mine. His arms skim my neck as he undoes the knot holding up the mask. Relief and comfort flood over me when he removes my disguise.
“I don’t get how you can do it all the time,” I say. “Masks are uncomfortable.”
He ignores that and instead draws a slow circle along my cheek.
It stings where the fabric had rubbed against it, and apparently it had left lines, because D.S.
brushes over all of them. He starts to move his finger away, but I catch his hand with my own and pull it back.
My skin tingles with his touch, but itches without it. No way am I letting him stop.
“Don’t be greedy,” he murmurs, his other hand toying with the loose ends of my hair. With his chest so close, I become hyper aware of his every breath. “You’re so beautiful, Madeline.” His compliment hits me like the rain: hard, abrupt and welcome. “You were gorgeous in the ballroom, but now…”
Now that my hair’s tangled and I’m covered in mud. Great. But I’m allowing him to see me with my guard down. He’s doing the same—here without his usual armor, letting our secrets quietly twist together. He’s impossibly close.
“Tell me something about your secret identity,” I demand. “That no one else knows.”
Lighting cracks and I glance at branches overhead. Our cover doesn’t seem like a good idea anymore.
“Don’t worry, we’re safe,” D.S. says softly.
“A secret… I get about four hours of sleep every night. Between doing bad guy stuff, secret missions with Golden Ace, homework, and waking up for school, there’s not much time left for rest. It’s a miracle I’m so handsome, Roberts.
Since my beauty sleep is basically nonexistent. ”
“I knew you were a high schooler.”
Teasing, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s also this girl I really like, but I think she’s still figuring it out.”
I freeze, heat creeping up my cheeks.
“She’s also blushing,” D.S. adds.
I duck between his arms, but he catches me, gently.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says.
My heart pounding, I press my forehead to his chin, getting used to being even closer. I hook a finger underneath his mask and lift it slightly. When his expression doesn’t change, I push it up half an inch more, until he sniffs as if to say, don’t even think about it.
“What can I do then?” I whisper. “Since you apparently won’t let me do anything.”
“What do you want to do? Other than that?”
“Hmmm.” I pretend to yawn. “What do you want to do?”
A clap of thunder nearly drowns out his reply: “We both know what I want to do.”
“Oh really—”
He doesn’t let me finish. His soft lips brush against mine and my eyes flutter closed. But just as quickly, he pulls back.
I blink and his cocky grin flashes back at me.
“Seriously?”
“I mean,” he says, too casually, “we’re going to be here for a while. Can’t go too fast, can we?”
Lightning splits the sky, illuminating everything under the canopy.
“If you call that fast,” I whisper, “I want to see your slow.”
He stills. White sparks flicker in the inch between us, threatening to burn something down. His hesitation lasts only for a second.
“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The storm flares, alive and dangerous. Then his lips crash into mine and we melt against the tree. The bark presses into my back, grounding me as everything spins. I thread my fingers into his damp hair, careful not to tip his hat, preventing him from pulling away.
His arms tighten around my waist, holding me steady as thunder crashes overhead. Lightning flashes, each burst cracking in the pouring rain, syncing with something between us—deeper than I ever expected.
That’s when I realize Dark Static is causing the storm. He’s energy itself, an unfathomable, searing chaos, and the charge in the air pulls me in. We’re creating our own electric rhythm.
When we break apart, the night—everything—is different. Warmer and brighter than before.
“I’m starting to get why you’re called Dark Static,” I say, watching the sparks sizzle off him, vanishing into his shadows.
D.S. leans in, close enough to whisper in my ear, “Just like lightning striking water.”
That comment alone is enough to leave me breathless.