Blind Date with a Supervillain (Supervillain Romance Project #1)

Chapter One

It’s just a job at a coffee shop. Thousands if not millions of normies do this every day. It’s nothing a supervillain like me can’t handle.

In spite of her inner peptalk, Apparition’s hands shook, and it took all her willpower not to throw up an illusion and run the other way.

Seeing her father, hanging out in a ball cap and sunglasses across the street, kept her on track.

He’d be disappointed if she didn’t do this.

After all, she’d been begging for years to leave the lair and experience something like a normal life.

If only on a part time basis. A coffee shop job was perfect for that—even if her father, Mythcreant, had other motives.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She winced. Only one person had her number. Stopping under the awning of a sandwich shop, she checked the device.

Just so you don’t forget why we’re doing this, this is the mark. I know you have some naive idea that you’re going to make friends, but get that out of your head right now. This is a mission, not social hour.

Beneath the text were two images. One of a masked superhero in dark blue body armor decked with a silver starburst insignia, the other of a young man of similar build with identical, short black hair.

In the second photo, he wore jeans and a sweatshirt sporting the name of the local college, and his mask was gone, revealing a handsome, twenty-ish man of Korean descent.

Cute guy. There was a stereotype that super-abled people, often called sables, were better looking than “normies,” but Apparition hadn’t seen this holding up.

Mostly they were pretty average. She’d have placed Surge as “slightly more than average.” Nice skin, strong chin, and a slender but athletic build. Not that any of that mattered.

I know, Apparition texted back.

She’d been there when her father had pinpointed Surge’s secret identity as “average college student” Shawn Park, after all.

With the Department of Super-Abled providing back up and resources, most individuals who chose the hero rather than villain path didn’t bother with a secret identity.

Newcomer Surge was, of course, a notable exception.

Apparition had repeatedly asked Mythcreant why he was so obsessed with this particular DOSA hero, but had never gotten a satisfactory answer.

Mythcreant had packed up their life and lair a few weeks before, as soon as he’d seen Surge on the news for the feel good deed of rescuing every pet in residence when a local shelter had caught fire.

Surge had even adopted a basset hound at the same time.

Not the sort of thing that would usually draw the ire of a financially-minded villain such as Mythcreant.

She put her phone away and straightened her gray knit cap over her fine red hair.

Mission first, of course. She wouldn’t let Father down by getting distracted .

.. but in order to draw Surge in, she’d need to look like a normal nineteen-year-old girl who happened to work at his favorite coffee shop.

Having friends was practically part of her cover.

She’d simply have to figure out how to make friends first.

She picked up her pace, focusing on the sign about a block ahead that read “Cup of Cheer Coffee.” When she entered the shop, warmth and smooth jazz surrounded her, accompanied by the comforting smells of coffee, chocolate, and baked goods. She inhaled. She loved coffee shops ...

“Can I help you?” A woman of about Apparition’s age with dark skin and elaborate braids decorated with multi-colored beads looked up from behind the counter.

Apparition cleared her throat. “I’m Nikki. I’m starting today.”

The woman, whose laminated name tag read “Jasmine,” glanced at the wall clock. “You’re early.”

Apparition forced a broad smile. “I wanted to make a good impression on my first day.”

“Huh.” Jasmine sniffed before motioning for Apparition to follow her around the counter. “I guess I’m training you. Come on. I’ll get you your apron and nametag.”

Apparition’s heart pounded in her chest as they entered the backroom. Jasmine would be training her. Jasmine looked to be about her age. Jasmine had cool hair done up in amazing braids. Jasmine could be her first real friend.

Jasmine passed her a black apron from a hook before stopping at a workstation with a label printer. “Nikki. Is that with two k’s? C then k? I? I e? Y?”

Apparition’s brain short circuited. She hadn’t thought to ask her father how to spell her alias. What if what she told Jasmine didn’t match what he’d put on the online job application he’d filled out for her?

“Two k’s and an i,” she burst out. If it came up again, she’d just say it was a typo on the application.

“Huh.” Jasmine printed out a name tag and passed it to her.

For the next half hour, Jasmine showed “Nikki” around the coffee shop.

Apparition had made a point of watching every Youtube video on coffee shops she could find, so none of it was really much of a surprise, but she did her best to appear keyed in to everything Jasmine said.

She even fumbled her way through taking a customer’s order under her new co-worker—and hopefully friend’s—supervision.

Things seemed to be going well, but way too impersonally for Apparition’s taste.

She needed an in, a conversation point that would make Jasmine see that she was the ideal friend.

Before she could figure this out, Jasmine spoke.

“I think you’ve got it. Lunch rush starts in about a half hour, so if you want your fifteen minute break, you should grab it now.

The boss doesn’t mind if you make yourself one drink per shift as long as it’s not one of the really expensive ones and you don’t drink it where the customers can see.

When you’re done, let me know. I want to get my break next. ”

“Oh, okay.” Apparition started to mess with the syrups, pretending to consider her drink choices but still fixated on chatting with Jasmine. “So ... do you like working here?”

That seemed like a good start.

Jasmine shrugged. “It’s a paycheck. Honestly, I’m just waiting until my influencer career kicks off. I have already gotten a few deals sponsoring fashion brands, but it’ll be awhile until I can do that full time.”

“Oh, so you like fashion?” Apparition perked up. There it was. An in. An interest she could foster into a friendship.

“Yeah.” An edge of “well, duh” crept into Jasmine’s tone.

Apparition opened her mouth to burst out, “Me, too!” but shut it again almost immediately.

She didn’t know anything about fashion—well, a little about designing a supervillain aesthetic to strike fear and awe into the hearts of her enemies, but she didn’t think Jasmine would relate to that. She needed to research this.

After quickly pouring herself a house coffee and adding two pumps of peppermint, one of white chocolate, and a splash of cream—a recipe she’d seen in one of her video tutorials—she retreated into the backroom to plan.

A Google search of fashion brought up many confusing articles with pictures of impossibly pretty—and thin—people in all sorts of outlandish get ups.

Clothing brands blasted that they could make her stylish.

Videos showed off the latest hot looks. She bit her bottom lip.

This would take longer to get her head around than a fifteen minute break.

Maybe instead of deep research, she could find one interesting related topic to bring up.

About halfway down the feed, an article promised, “Twenty of the most interesting historical fashion facts.”

Perfect!

Her phone buzzed. She groaned.

This time the text from Father read, Remember, Surge is always in that shop around lunch. You need to be at the register when he gets there.

I will be, she replied.

I’m outside the shop right now, and I don’t see you.

She shuddered. Couldn’t he trust her even a little bit?

I’m in the backroom taking my 15 minute break. I have time. Chill.

She hesitated, staring at the unsent text. Her dad didn’t like her to talk back. She backspaced “chill” then sent it.

Don’t screw this up.

Her shoulders slumped, and she turned her attention to memorizing the “interesting fashion facts.”

Five minutes before her break was supposed to end, she popped out of the break room. Jasmine stood in front of the baked goods case with a bottle of glass cleaner.

“I’m back,” Apparition said simply.

Jasmine didn’t question the early end of her co-worker’s break. Instead she took a scone from the case and got behind the espresso machine. “Good. Going to make myself a macchiato and catch up on my feed. Ethan should be in at noon, but until then, the counter’s yours.”

Apparition hovered a few feet behind Jasmine as she made her drink, trying to work up the nerve. Jasmine put a lid on her now full cup and stepped towards the break room door.

“Hey, speaking of fashion,” Apparition blurted out before Jasmine could escape.

Jasmine frowned. “Were we?”

“Well, you said you liked it ...” Apparition mumbled.

“Huh,” Jasmine said.

“I was just wondering, did you know that in the Victorian era women would dye their dresses green with arsenic? How weird is that? It would sometimes kill them. Can you imagine wearing something that could literally kill you? I guess that’s what they mean by drop dead gorgeous, am I right?

” Apparition ended in an awkward, involuntary giggle.

It came out like a squeak. Ugh, she hated her own laugh so much.

“Sure, whatever. You’ve got the counter, right?” Jasmine narrowed her eyes at Apparition.

“Yeah, sure.” Apparition sank into herself. That hadn’t worked.

As Jasmine disappeared into the back, Apparition fiddled with her nametag. A single customer sat at a corner table, thankfully wearing headphones as he stared at his laptop, completely oblivious to Apparition’s embarrassing social defeat. She busied herself stacking the cups next to the register.