Free Fall Guy by Liz Reinhardt Page B

napkins in front of us. "Super hero?"
    "You met me in court." I drag a few fries through the ketchup and watch her chew and wonder.
    "A misunderstood super hero?" she asks between bites. When I don't say anyth ing, she presses, "Like Magneto? "
    "You like the X Men?" I try to tone down my total shock.
    I'm aware that there are tons of girls who do like the X Men, but none of my ex-girlfriends ever did. Evan is completely different than any other girl I’ve ever been with in every possible way, and I love it.
    I’m shocked just how much I love it. I thought I knew exactly my type when it came to girls, but it winds up I had no idea. Or maybe I just don’t have a type; because I can’t imagine anyone else like her, and I can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone but her.
    She looks legitimately surprised. "Of course. Everyone likes the X Men." I remember Lala whining through the last X Men movie we watched and choose to ignore Evan's inaccuracy and listen to her maniac explanation instead. "Magneto will never be a villain in my eyes. Never. What happened to his mother, what he went through, it made him who he is, and excuses his crimes, I don't care how extreme they are."
    It's a comic book. She's talking about a comic book, not me, I remind myself as I wrestle with the urge to grab her face and kiss her hard. I can hardly stay in my chair.
    "So you think people can do bad things for good reasons?" I press, and I'm relieved she doesn't seem to notice how suspiciously anxious I am for her answer.
    "Of course." She pauses, fries held in midai r, thinking it through . "Yes." She nods, more convinced every second . "It happens all the time. And I'm in no place to judge. I'm always doing stupid things for stupid reasons, and I should know better."
    I'm twisting her innocent confession and making it into something that applies to me a nd the idiot decisions I've been making for the last few years. Th e on es even I can't really come to terms with. She's talking about Magneto and her little accidental foray into arson.
    This has nothing to do with the lifestyle I live and the sacrifices I have to make and keep making.
    She won't be able to reconcile with them because even I have a hard time with it, and I have no choice but to do what needs to be done, like it or not .
    Guilt and hopeless frustration rip through me like a wild dog pack on the scent of a kill.
    "You ready to get outta here?" I ask, and she wordlessly sweeps the few scraps of leftover food and garbage into a pile, I throw it out, and we head to the car.
    "Is this date over?" she asks when I have her door open.
    Her feet hang half off the curb and she rocks back and forth, an inch away from me and then into the car interior, an inch closer and then back again .
    "Completely your call."
    I hold still, one hand on the car door, one on the roof, every nerve tensed to keep from kissing her right into the car, into the backseat, kissing her until it goes a lot damn further than kissing, to a place we can't get back from.
    She s ucks her bottom lip in and chews on it, and I have to hold back a groan, because I want to suck on that lip. I want to suck on her.
    "I want to stay with you longer." It's so blunt, she can't possibly mean for it to be a come on, but I'm so turned on, I'm about to make a dent in my hood from gripping it so damn tight. "I have to be home by midnight or my grandparents will freak out. But that's hours away. Can we go somewhere?"
    "Yeah. Yes. Of course."
    I should kiss her. I want to, but this moment is damn close to perfect, and I don't want to mess with it. S o, instead, I get in the car and we go.
    The beach is half an hour away. I'd take her to my family ' s rental, but Remington has been stationed there in a Jack-and-pot coma for weeks.
    She interrupts my thoughts, "My grandparents have a house right on the ocean ." I nod and she programs the address in the GPS for me, then warns, "As long as we don't get crazy, we can hang out there."
    "I'm not