The morning sun crept in through the window, painting the room in soft golden hues.


    I should really close the curtains next time, I thought, squinting at the unwelcome brightness. The sun always had a way of intruding, trying to ruin the delicate moments like this.


    Jade was curled against me, completely at peace, like a cat that had claimed her favorite spot. Her body fit perfectly against mine, small and warm, her breath soft and even as she slept. My arms were still wrapped protectively around her. I couldn’t help but worry about how delicate she felt, how light she was. She really should eat more. It was a fleeting, silly thought. The morning light danced across her face, catching the faint flush in her cheeks, the gentle curve of her lips. Her skin, a mix of pink and red like ripened peaches, seemed to glow under the sun’s touch.


    And then, of course, there was the evidence.


    Thinking back to last night, I reminded myself—no, we hadn’t crossed that line. The thin walls, the three rooms full of people, and the quiet awareness of everything we weren’t ready for yet… somehow, I’d managed to hold onto some semblance of control. Even with Jade doing her best impression of a hungry dragon—nipping, teasing, testing my resolve—we’d settled for cuddles and kisses until exhaustion finally dragged us under.


    Jade''s eyes fluttered open slowly, silver irises catching the early sunlight, and her fingers shifted against mine. She stretched like a lazy cat, a small, contented noise escaping her lips. Her smile—soft and unguarded—lit up her face as she lazily adjusted her arms, wrapping them around my neck and pulling herself closer.


    “Hi,” I whispered softly, my voice barely audible, like I didn’t want to break the moment.


    She blinked at me sleepily, a tiny smile playing on her lips. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.


    For a heartbeat, I just stared. Pretty. The thought drifted through my mind unbidden, momentarily sweeping away everything else. Before I could say anything, she leaned in, brushing her lips softly against mine. It was quick, almost hesitant, unreal. We lay there like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the silence broken only by the occasional sound of voices or footsteps coming from the other rooms. Time felt suspended, like the world outside didn’t exist.


    Eventually, I shifted, reluctantly trying to sit up. “I should probably—”


    “Don’t go.” Her voice was soft, almost pleading. “There’s still time,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed again as she snuggled closer.


    And then we spent ten more minutes just snuggling into each other’s arms. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of this feeling—the warmth, the quiet, the way everything else in the world seemed to fall away. But as much as I wanted to freeze time, reality had other plans. My brain started nagging at me: Are the others awake yet? Is Gina lurking around with her ice-cream-eating judgment face again?


    The last thing I needed was a repeat of last night’s walk of shame past her and that smug, knowing smirk.


    Later, as we all gathered in the dining room for breakfast, the atmosphere was lighter than I expected. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and the table was cluttered with toast, eggs, and enough coffee to revive a small army.


    I handed a steaming cup of coffee to Jade before sitting down across from her with my own. She took it wordlessly, cradling it like it in her hands for warmth.


    And then, of course, Gina happened.


    “Oh, where’s mine?” her voice rang out, far too sly for so early in the morning. She was watching me with an exaggerated pout, that ever-mischievous grin plastered across her face.


    I didn’t even look at her, just took a long sip of coffee. “There’s a cup for you on the counter.”


    Gina gasped dramatically. “How rude!” she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest like I’d committed a mortal offense. Still, she grabbed a piece of toast, seemingly prepared to lecture me into the ground—


    Until she yelped.


    “Fuck!”


    The toast fell back to her plate as she clapped a hand over her mouth, wincing like she’d been shot.


    I blinked, stunned for half a second before I realized what had happened. She’d bitten her tongue. I tried—really tried—not to laugh, but it came out anyway, a quiet snort I failed to disguise behind my coffee cup.


    “Not very cool,” Gina muttered, her words slightly garbled as she glared at me and Jade with wounded pride.


    Then, as if rehearsed, she turned her dramatic expression on Jade. “You’re supposed to support your best friend, you know. Girl code.” Her tone was exaggerated, but the hint of real betrayal peeked through. Clearly, she was hoping for an ally, but who would tell she was asking the enemy.


    Serves you right! I thought smugly.


    Jade didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow over her coffee cup like she was the queen of unbothered. Something in the air must have warned Gina, though—maybe it was Jade’s silence or the way I wasn’t even pretending to look apologetic—because she promptly stood and shuffled to another chair, abandoning her spot between us.


    “Traitors, both of you,” she declared under her breath as she plopped herself down at the far end of the table.


    From the corner of my eye, I caught Jade smirking into her coffee cup. She held it with both hands, like it was her shield of invincibility, but the way her lips curled gave her away.


    You tell them, I thought, a quiet pride settling in my chest—warm and a little foolish. Don’t mess with your man.


    Was this what love felt like? This odd, intoxicating mix of pride and protectiveness—of wanting to shield her from the world while knowing, deep down, she’d gladly shield me right back? I looked at her again, her smile hidden but yeah, maybe I should’ve been scared of what I was feeling—of how fast it was growing, how deep it was already rooting itself.


    But somehow, it didn’t scare me at all. It just felt right.


    <hr>


    The rest of the day passed without incident. We returned to the SuperNot Convention, wandered through the remaining stalls, and soaked in the last bits of the festivities. It felt good to just exist for a while—no clones, no rewinds, no surprise superhero drama smashing through the ceiling. Just people with ridiculous powers doing ridiculous things. By the end, it was a strangely perfect send-off to the weekend.


    By evening, I was back home. Aunt Grace’s cooking had taken over the house, the warm scent of garlic and onions wafting through every room like some ancient spell that promised comfort and a full stomach. Outside, the sunset painted the windows with streaks of orange and gold, softening the edges of the weekend’s excitement as it faded into memory.


    I’d flopped onto the couch, phone in hand, lost in a text conversation with Jade.


    Me: I’m still recovering from the guy who ‘communed’ with spoons. That’s gonna haunt me forever.


    Jade: He had a vision. ? You just weren’t spiritually ready.


    Me: You laughed for a solid five minutes. You’re not exactly enlightened either.


    Jade: I was laughing with him, not at him. (｀?′ )


    I smiled, lounging back into the couch.


    Me: Yeah? And what about the toenail guy? You couldn’t even look at him. (?_?)


    Jade: I was protecting my eyes. That level of glowing power is dangerous.


    I couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking my head as I typed back.


    Me: Admit it. You enjoyed yourself.


    Jade: Fine. (￣^￣)


    Me: So, favorite part of today? The spoon guy? Glitter sneezes?


    Jade: No contest. The guy with the dancing shadow. Creepy, weird—absolutely perfect.


    Me: (￢_￢;) I knew it, you falls for the unsettling stuff.


    Jade: It’s called ‘good taste.’


    Me: Good taste? You literally clapped for a shadow. Who does that?


    Jade: Someone supportive. Maybe try it sometime, Mr. Judgy.


    Me: Oh, I am supportive. I didn’t laugh when you tripped into the glitter sneeze guy’s cloud.


    Jade: You did laugh! You were holding back a full meltdown.


    Me: I wasn’t laughing. I was… concerned for your glitter inhalation. (?_?ヾ


    Jade: Right. Concerned enough to snort and take a photo?


    Jade: (╬ ?益?)


    I winced.


    Me: Okay, fine, I laughed a little. But you looked cute covered in sparkles.


    Jade: I always look cute. (￣ー￣)


    I paused for a second, smiling to myself.


    Me: (???)つ⌒ You are so full of yourself


    She took a moment before replying.


    Jade: No! I’m only full of surprises. ?(ò_óˇ)?


    Jade: (￣^￣)ノYou’ll get used to it.


    The words tugged at something in me, subtle but there. I paused, the edge of my grin softening.


    Me: (＾▽＾) I feel spoiled already. ?


    Jade: Please. (??????)?? I haven’t even given you the full package yet.


    I froze for half a second, rereading the text before my thumb hovered cautiously over the screen.


    Me: (⊙▽⊙)


    Me: The… full package?


    Her typing bubble popped up almost immediately.


    Jade: You should feel lucky. (?''?''?) Limited edition girlfriend perks. ? Don’t take it for granted.


    There it was. Girlfriend. Seeing it on the screen hit different, like it solidified something that had been hanging in the air between us all day. My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second too long before I finally responded.


    Me: Girlfriend perks, huh? ? Sounds exclusive.?


    Jade: It is.? Consider yourself honored.


    I sat back against the couch, my grin spreading a little wider than I’d care to admit.


    Me: Do these perks include letting me win at something, for once?


    There was a pause—a beat too long that made my thoughts wander aimlessly.


    Jade: No chance. I’m not that generous.


    Me: Figures.


    Me: I feel like you’re secretly keeping score. (?■_■)


    Jade: (￣▽￣)ノMaybe I am.


    Her reply took a moment this time, and my heart did that stupid thing where it picked up pace like I was waiting for something monumental. I was halfway through forming my response when Aunt Grace’s voice cut through my bubble like a trumpet blast.


    “North! Stop grinning like a fool. I need you to get a carton of milk before the store closes!”


    I groaned audibly, throwing my head back against the couch. “Really? Now?”


    “Yes, now!” Her voice carried that perfect balance of authority and exasperation only she could manage. “Move, or there won’t be any dessert tonight!”


    That hit me where it hurt. Aunt Grace’s desserts weren’t just food—they were events. Missing one was practically a tragedy.


    “Fine,” I groaned under my breath, reluctantly peeling myself off the couch. I shot Jade a quick text.


    Me: Hold that thought. Milk crisis. Back in a sec.


    Her reply popped up almost immediately.


    Jade: Milk crisis? Priorities. Don’t let the cow community down.


    I rolled onto my knees, grabbing my jacket with dramatic flair. “This is emotional abuse, you know.”


    Aunt Grace had wooden spoon in hand, her eyebrow raised like she was ready to challenge me. “Emotional abuse? You’re the one grinning like a love-struck puppy. What’s her name, anyway? Jade? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”


    I froze mid-motion, my hand halfway into my sleeve. “I’m not—there’s no—”


    “Save it,” she cut me off, shaking her head like I was hopeless. “Took you long enough to pull a girl, honestly. I thought I’d have to start arranging blind dates just to keep you from dying lonely.”


    “I’m leaving now so you can stop traumatizing me, thanks.”


    “Hold it!” she said sharply, stopping me just as I reached for the door.


    I turned with an exaggerated sigh. “What now?”


    She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning sly. “Don’t waste time,” she added, pointing the spoon at me like it held the wisdom of the universe. “Invite her. I’ll make my signature dessert. Chocolate cake fixes everything. It might help you move to the next step faster than you’re hoping for.”


    “Next step? What next step? There are no steps!”This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Aunt Grace shook her head dramatically, lamenting as though I were a lost cause. “How did I end up with such a slow-witted nephew? Back in my day—oh, when I was in college—I had everyone wrapped around my little finger. Professors, classmates, even the lunch ladies! You? You’re circling like a confused duck and calling it progress.”


    I blinked at her. “The lunch ladies?”


    “Everyone,” she said proudly, “You’ve got to learn to move faster. Life doesn’t wait for lovesick fools, and neither will that girl if you keep dragging your feet.”


    “I’m not dragging my feet!” I protested. “And Jade’s not—she’s—gah, never mind!”


    Aunt Grace just grinned victoriously, already turning back toward the kitchen as she muttered to herself, “Slow and clueless. Poor boy. At least he’s cute.”


    “I’m leaving!” I called out again, feeling like my very existence had been roasted to ash.


    I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets and stepped into the cool evening air. The streets were quiet, the orange glow of the streetlights just starting to flicker to life. My footsteps echoed faintly as I walked.


    Then, for some reason, a thought popped into my head and wouldn’t leave: Am I really being driven by hormones?


    I snorted to myself, running a hand through my hair. “Seriously?” I muttered out loud, earning a suspicious glance from an old man walking his dog across the street.


    Our neighborhood was that perfect mix of cozy residential streets and bustling storefronts. I could walk two blocks and pass everything from bakeries to laundromats, with just enough late-night buzz to keep things interesting. The evening air carried the first bite of chill, urging that nighttime was settling in, and the streets brimmed with energy—families heading home, couples walking toward dinner, and kids dragging their feet reluctantly inside.


    The convenience store''s fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as I grabbed the milk and made my way to the counter. The man behind the register was built like a linebacker but looked like he’d wrestled with the entire day and lost. His gaze locked onto me with all the suspicion of someone who’d seen too many teenagers shove candy into their pockets when they thought no one was watching.


    I plastered on my most non-threatening smile.


    His gaze lingered suspiciously as I placed the milk on the counter. “Just the milk?”


    “Unless you’re offering something better,” I said, deadpan.


    He didn’t look amused. I paid, grabbed my carton, and made my grand escape back into the cool evening


    I popped my earbuds in, letting the quiet stroll home lull me back into a decent mood. That was, until someone shouted.


    Startled, I yanked out one earbud and turned, my heart already doing an uncomfortable flip. Up ahead, a man was sprinting full tilt down the street. He was dressed in all black, his face hidden beneath a cheap, ragged mask that made him look like he’d crawled straight out of a sewer grate. His hair was wild, his clothes stained and rumpled, and he moved like someone who had nothing to lose.


    Behind him, a boy—no older than fourteen or fifteen—was tearing after him with all the determination of an underdog hero in his first big moment.


    “Hey! Stop!” the boy yelled, his voice cracking slightly as he sprinted.


    “What the hell…” I muttered to myself, my feet rooted to the pavement.


    I watched as the masked man darted from across the street, narrowly missing a car that honked and swerved. The driver rolled down his window just to shout some choice insults, but the man didn’t even glance back. The kid, meanwhile, stumbled onto the crosswalk, arms pumping furiously as he tried to keep up.


    The thief’s eyes darted around like a cornered animal, his frantic gaze sweeping the street for options. He reeked of sweat and garbage, the stench so sharp I nearly gagged. Without warning, he bolted past me, boots skidding on the pavement as he yanked open a nearby manhole cover with a groan of metal and stone. Before I could blink, he disappeared into the darkness below, the clang of the cover slamming shut behind him echoing like a gunshot.


    I stood there, staring at the open hole in the road, my feet frozen to the ground. Everything inside me told me, Walk away, North. Don’t even think about it. What do you expect from me? I thought. I’m not a hero.


    Moments later, the boy in the superhero hoodie stumbled to a stop beside me, doubled over and gasping for air. His face was flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, and judging by the way he struggled to catch his breath, his meta nature hadn’t kicked in yet.


    “Why didn’t you stop him?” he demanded between gulps of air, looking up at me with pure disbelief.


    His gaze bore into me like I’d personally betrayed humanity. I shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it. “I ain’t no hero,” I said flatly, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.


    The thief was gone, swallowed by the city’s underbelly, and I wasn’t about to risk my neck chasing someone who clearly wanted it more than I did. That’s how humanity worked, right? Relying on others—better, braver others—to step in and handle the things we couldn’t, or just wouldn’t.


    But the boy wasn’t done. “Bro, you formed your meta nature!” he shot back, straightening up. “You’ve got powers. You could’ve done something. I don’t have anything yet!”


    I froze mid-step, his words hitting me in a way I hadn’t expected. When I turned back to face him, his frustration was etched clearly across his face. He looked at me like I was some kind of disgrace—a failed contender who didn’t even try.


    “He was a thief,” the boy added, his tone sharper now, more accusatory. “I saw him steal. You could’ve stopped him.”


    I sighed heavily, searching for an out. I wasn’t about to stand there and get scolded by a teenager. “Yeah, but…” I waved a hand vaguely, the lie sliding out surprisingly smooth. “I can only see, like… colors in the air. That’s it. Nothing useful.”


    The transformation in his expression was immediate – judgment melting into sympathy so fast it almost gave me whiplash. "Oh," he said, voice softening. "Well... then I can let that pass."


    He nodded with all the gravity of a judge issuing a pardon. "You could''ve gotten hurt."


    I stared at him, caught between relief at the easy out and a weird sense of insult. Was this pity? Was he pitying me? The kid had just called me useless, but he did it so gently I almost thanked him for it. For a moment, we stood there in awkward silence. The milk in my bag was probably warming up, and somewhere beneath us, the thief was making his grand sewer escape. I should’ve just walked away, but instead, I tilted my head and sized the kid up.


    “What’s your name?” I asked, unable to resist the curiosity.


    He straightened up, shoulders squaring like he’d been waiting for someone to ask. “You can call me Leo Jupiter.”


    I blinked. “Leo Jupiter?”


    “That’s right,” he replied, chin lifted like he’d just declared himself king of the block. “Something wrong?”


    I shook my head, amusement tugging at the corner of my lips. “Well, Leo, what are you, some fifteen-year-old vigilante wannabe? Trying to fight crime without any powers?” I raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who could’ve gotten hurt out there. The practical thing to do in situations like this is call the City Protectors hotline, file a report with police, and let people who actually know what they’re doing handle it. You’d contribute more that way than half the people in this city.”


    Leo straightened up, still breathing hard from his earlier adrenaline rush. “Someone has to do something. I can’t just let them get away,” he shot back, his voice laced with defiance. But then, softer, as if admitting it to himself, he added, “I guess that’s the only option left now.”


    I smiled faintly, pleased that he was finally starting to listen. He wasn’t a total idiot after all. But something about the way he said that last bit—so resigned, so stubborn—made me pause.


    “You live in the area?” I asked, eyeing him curiously.


    “I live nearby,” Leo said, still staring at the manhole like it might spit out answers.


    “It’s getting dark. You should head home,” I said, turning away and starting to stroll off. To my surprise, I heard his sneakers scuff against the pavement as he fell into step beside me.


    Apparently, we were heading in the same direction—either by coincidence or fate. Great.


    Leo broke the silence, his voice brimming with something close to desperation. “When did you form your meta nature?”


    “When I was fourteen,” I replied, figuring a little conversation wouldn’t kill me.


    Leo’s shoulders straightened with hope, like he’d just heard he was on the cusp of something life-changing. “Oh,” he chuckled nervously, “I’m fourteen now. Do you think I’ll form mine soon?”


    I stopped walking for a second, turning to look at him properly. His face was full of expectation, a mix of excitement and fear. I considered the question for a moment before answering, “You should. Most people form their meta nature around fourteen or fifteen. But it can vary. Some people are late bloomers.”


    Leo latched onto my words like they were gospel. “I’ve got some friends who’ve already formed theirs!” he said, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm. “One of them can levitate for a few seconds—just hovers there like it’s nothing. Another can shape water into anything without it freezing. It’s so cool!”


    He paused just long enough to take a breath before launching into his next story. “Oh! And there was this girl at my school—she could hypnotize people, but only if they agreed to do her one request. She caused a huge problem.”


    “Hypnotize people?” I asked, arching a brow. “What kind of requests?”


    “Nothing too crazy,” Leo said quickly. “At first, it was small stuff. Like asking someone to hold a door for her. But then she realized she could ask for bigger things. Someone gave her their homework for a week straight before they realized what was happening. She could’ve done a lot worse, though…”


    “What happened to her?” I asked, genuinely curious.


    Leo’s tone dipped into something quieter, though not exactly sad. “She started getting a lot of attention—people were scared, you know? Parents complained. The school brought in some heroes to talk to us about using powers responsibly, and after that… her family pulled her out.”


    I hummed in understanding. “That’s the norm.”


    I listened quietly as Leo kept talking. It wasn’t unusual for newly formed meta natures to cause disruptions, especially among teenagers still figuring out how to control their abilities. A meta nature that fresh was usually limited—like the kid who could hover for a few seconds or the girl who managed to hypnotize just a handful of classmates before it spiraled out of control.


    Schools were prepared for these incidents. Over the years, the education system had adapted, with heroes or meta-human staff on hand whose sole job was to keep abilities in check. They’d even woven it into the curriculum: ethics classes drilling us on the moral implications of power use—good versus bad, responsibility versus temptation.


    The system’s goal? To prevent exactly what Leo was describing. Stop problems before they got messy. But reality wasn’t as neat as the system liked to pretend. For every well-behaved student with powers, there was someone who discovered their meta nature through trauma, or worse—someone who used it to cause trauma. Bullying turned deadly. Friendships shattered. Power, even in its earliest form, always found an outlet, whether the schools liked it or not.


    I let Leo talk himself out before finally breaking the silence. “So what are you planning to do once you form your meta nature?”


    Leo looked at me like I’d just asked him if the sky was blue. One of those classic teenage “are you seriously asking me this?” looks that only kids his age could pull off with such expertise.


    Ugh. Teenagers these days.


    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Was he giving me attitude because I said my meta nature was useless? Was I the idiot here, or was he just feeling smug?


    After a beat, Leo sighed, as though the answer was painfully obvious. “Of course, I’d be a hero,” he said, his voice practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “I want to join the League of Legends. It’s my dream.”


    Oh?


    I smiled inwardly, the kind of smile that probably looked way too innocent on the outside but was all mischief underneath. Finally, I thought, this little punk just revealed one of his weak spots.


    “Well,” I said, feigning casual interest as I slid my hands into my pockets, “you know, to become one of the League of Legends, you have to join Beyonder’s Academy first.”


    “I know,” Leo snapped, his tone now tinged with irritation. “Why do you think I’m out here trying to catch a thief? I’m building my portfolio for my Beyonder’s application. Do you even know how this works? What are you doing with your meta nature? Are you even attending any proper university?”


    He threw me a sidelong glance, his expression smug, like he thought I was the clueless one here.


    Oh, you little shit. It’s on.


    Suppressing an evil grin, I slipped my hand into my pocket, casually pulling out my wallet. I flipped it open, grabbed my student ID, and whipped it in front of his face—just fast enough to stay out of his grabby hands but slow enough for him to read it.


    “Look here, little shit,” I said, letting just the right amount of venomous glee drip into my words. “What does the name on this card say?”


    Leo squinted at the ID, the confidence draining from his face as realization dawned. “Be… Beyonder’s Academy.”


    The falter in his cocky little grin was glorious. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing outright as his expression sank like a ship hitting an iceberg.


    His jaw dropped, his hand snapping out to grab my ID like it might vanish into thin air. He held it delicately, staring at it as though it were the Holy Grail. “Beyonder’s Academy? For real?” he stammered, his voice bouncing between awe and disbelief. “You—you’re really a student there?”


    I leaned back, my posture deliberately casual, basking in the moment like a lizard soaking up sunlight. “You bet your portfolio-polishing ass I am.”


    Leo’s expression was priceless. For someone who had been lecturing me about getting my life together, he now looked like a kid meeting his favorite superhero for the first time. His wide eyes flicked back to me, then to the card, then back to me. “I mean… wow. That’s incredible,” he muttered, still cradling my ID like it might spontaneously combust. “How’d you even get in? Did you—did you have to fight someone? Or save a city? What happened?”


    I shrugged, letting the mystery hang in the air for just a second longer than necessary. “It’s classified,” I said, deadpan.


    What could I say? There was nothing to say because I didn’t do a damn thing to get into Beyonder’s Academy. But silence, as they say, was golden. And honestly? I was more than happy to let the mystery stew. For all I knew, Leo was busy piecing together some dramatic backstory about how a random guy he found on the street ended up at the academy of his dreams.


    “Classified?” Leo’s voice cracked with excitement. “Holy crap, what does that mean? Like, secret missions? Power trials? Did you beat someone in hand-to-hand combat?”


    I gave him a smirk that told him exactly nothing. “Let’s just say Beyonder’s doesn’t accept slackers. You’d better hope your thief-chasing portfolio holds up, kid.”


    Leo finally handed back my ID, his reverence still palpable. “I knew you had to be someone important,” he said, nodding like he’d just solved some mystery. “You had that look.”


    “What look?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.


    “The ‘I’m-better-than-you-but-too-cool-to-show-it’ look,” Leo replied, grinning like it was a compliment.


    I snorted. “It’s called exhaustion, Leo. That’s the look of someone who’s seen way too much weird shit in one semester.”


    Leo didn’t miss a beat. “Weird shit like sewer rats with masks?”


    “Exactly,” I said, shaking my head as I pocketed my ID again.


    Leo fell into step beside me, the awe still glowing on his face like he’d just walked out of a Marvel movie. “Man… Beyonder’s Academy,” he said under his breath, almost to himself. “One day, I’m gonna be there too. Just watch.”


    I shot him a sideways glance, the kid’s energy somehow infectious despite my best efforts. “Yeah? Then you’d better get faster. That thief was pulling away.”


    He grinned, undeterred. “Hey, it’s a work in progress. Everyone starts somewhere, right?”


    “Right,” I replied with a smirk. “But maybe leave the heroics to the professionals until you at least form your meta nature.”


    Suddenly, “Sorry, my house is here,” I said, slowing to a stop and glancing back at him.


    Leo still hadn’t closed his mouth. His wide-eyed shock was the cherry on top of this entire ridiculous encounter. It was too good—too perfect. I shot him a smug grin, letting the silence hang between us like a mic drop.


    “Serves you right, kid,” I muttered under my breath as I stepped inside and shut the door.


    The familiar warmth of home washed over me instantly—the smell of Aunt Grace’s cooking still lingering in the air. I kicked off my shoes, only to be greeted by her standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, eyebrow raised like she’d caught me smuggling a dragon into the house.


    “Why are you grinning?” she asked suspiciously, taking the milk carton from my hand.


    “Did I?” I replied, feigning nonchalance as I wiped the grin off my face. “Must be your imagination.”


    She gave me a look—one that said she knew exactly how full of it I was—but didn’t press. “Uh-huh. Just don’t let the milk spoil next time you get distracted by… whatever that was.”


    “Noted,” I replied, already halfway to my room.


    I shut the door behind me, tossing my bag onto the floor and flopping onto the bed. My phone buzzed as it lit up with a new message from Jade.


    Jade: What’s taking so long?


    Jade: ┐(￣ヘ￣;)┌


    Jade: (??o??)? Are you rescuing cows?


    The smugness from earlier melted into something softer. My heart did that weird fluttery thing it only ever did when it came to her. Without a second thought, I grabbed my phone and hit the call, tossing my jacket onto the chair like it didn’t deserve to be neatly hung up.


    The line rang only once before her voice came through, soft and familiar. “What took you so long?”


    I smiled, my earlier encounter fading completely as the sound of her voice filled the room. “I had to fend off a wannabe superhero. Long story.”