Because God hates me, my knight in shining denimnoticed.
Fucking vigilantes miss nothing.
His gaze cut up to the glowing window, lingered, then came back to me. “Somehow that’s not easing my worry.”
We both laughed, the sound small in the late-night quiet, and it felt…nice..
“This may, uh,” he cleared his throat. “May seem out of place, but, uh, could I maybe see you again?”
“Oh, because you ’saved’ me, I’m obligated to date you now?”
His eyes widened in that in-need-of-a-reboot way, as he fumbled his words. “No! That’s not what I– I mean, shit, I just, I thought that–”
“Oh myGod,” I snorted, throwing my head back in the world's ugliest cackle. “I was kidding!” It was a genuine sort of laugh, and its warmth felt like hot cocoa on Christmas morning in my belly.
“Oh fuck’s sake,” he exhaled and clutched his chest. “You got jokes. Killer jokes. I think I need a hospital.”
“Nah, Alfred’s waiting in the car to patch you up.”
“It’s actually Joe. My name, I mean.”
“Oof. I like Bruce better, buuuut if you prefer Joe, then that’s what I’ll call you.”
Joe perked up, and I caught my mistake a little too late.
Shit.
“So you’ll see me again?”
Double, triple shit.
For the second time that night, I searched his eyes for deceit. I was desperate to find a gleam of ill intention; a sign that the evil I was all too familiar with lived inside of this man. I could live with the devil I knew.
It was the devil that I didn’t that made my hands tremble.
“I’ll consider it,” I answered, my voice a little more shaky than I’d like to admit. “Only, though, if you prove your worth. Heroics are basic level shit. I’m talking top tier. Okay, Joe?”
“I think I can manage it..?” His question was open ended. I knew what he was asking for and, for a minute, considered whether or not I wanted to answer it.
Alas, because of a death wish I didn’t understand, I surrendered.
“Dany.”
“Dany,” he repeated. “I like it. Does it mean anything?”
The question stunned me and before I could stop myself, I said, “What an odd thing to say.”
“Sorry. It’s just that it’s unique. Usually when people have unique names, there’s a reason for it. Unless it’s just short for Danielle. Then I guess it’s not so–”
“Goodnight, Joe.”
I didn’t wink, blow him a kiss, or toss another snarky comment. I just took the steps to the landing and pulled the front door open. Barb’s square of light still burned above the stoop; her lace curtain twitched like a blink. I kept my face smooth so I didn’t have to hear her shit late. Joe stayed on the sidewalk under the streetlamp, not following, a steady shape in the humming glow of the city night
I walked through the bleach-permeated vestibule on autopilot, climbing the three flights of stairs as my palm swiped the wooden rail.
My skin seemed to remember where his fingers had hovered earlier, the remnants of his heat seeping into my skin where his palm had hovered. The clean smell of him lingered in my nose, and the way he looked at me…
Saved me.
