Draven nods and adds an extra bottle of chocolate milk to the cart. It makes me smile as I push it to the next aisle and pick up a box of Froot Loops for Rebel and a pack of chocolate chip cookies for Nitro.
It’s been eight hours since Rebel, Jeremy, and I failed to find Deacon at ESH labs, and we’ve spent most of that time holed up in a hotel room at the Extended Stay a few blocks from my house, trying to come up with a new plan. It’s not the optimum situation with six of us crowded into a two-room suite, but it was the safest option we could come up with. Right now, not showing up on hero radar is a lot more important than comfort, especially since we have to go back in to find Deacon.
And this time we’re all going. That’s nonnegotiable, at least according to the villains. Considering the overwhelming guilt Rebel feels over our failure and the knock-down, drag-out the guys got into in the nightclub parking lot, I’m inclined to agree.
Which means we need a really good plan, one that won’t get us killed before we can rescue Deacon…and my mother. Thankfully Jeremy has some ideas on where to start, because I’m pretty much tapped out. I’m so freaked out about my mom and everything else that I can barely think.
In the produce department, Draven and I pick up some apples and oranges. I know the guys think all we need is junk food to survive, but a little nutrition never hurt anyone. I’m reaching for some grapes when I get a weird tingle down my spine. I glance up just in time to catch someone watching me. Watching us.
I don’t recognize him and he’s too far away for me to see if he has a tattoo beneath one of his ears, but every instinct I have screams that he’s a super. I start toward him—but Draven wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in to his side. Then he ducks his head and starts whispering absolute gibberish to me.
I’m about to shrug him off, but he whispers, “Don’t.” His arm tightens around my waist. He half smirks, half snarls at the guy watching us and—to my surprise—the guy flushes before walking away.
“What was that about?” I hiss as Draven grabs a couple of bunches of grapes without even looking at them, then tosses them in the basket.
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
I dig in my heels, refusing to budge. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t tell me the truth.”
“I told you the truth.” He sighs and runs an exasperated hand through his hair. “It was nothing.”
“Yeah, well. I don’t believe you.”
“That’s your problem then, isn’t it?” He reaches for the cart and steers it down the aisle away from me.
I follow him, grabbing his arm. “Draven, if there’s something I need to know—”
“He was looking at you, okay?” The words seem to burst from him. “He was looking at you and I didn’t like it.”
My mind swirls. He can’t be implying what I think he is. “What-I-he—” I stumble for a moment, trying to come up with an appropriate response that won’t make me sound like an idiot. Finally, I clear my throat. “You mean, he recognized me or something? Should we be concerned? Who is he?”
“Just a guy I know from school. And he wasn’t looking at you like he recognized you, Kenna. He was looking at you like he wanted to recognize you. Like he wanted to get to know you. So I took care of it. Sorry.” He turns and starts pulling random junk off the shelves.
I’m left staring after him, feeling all strange inside. Because Draven just admitted he didn’t like another guy being interested in me. Which means what? That he’s interested in me? Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. Not because I don’t like the idea of him thinking about me in that way. But because I like it too much.
He’s a villain and I’m…not. I’m not technically a hero either. I guess that makes me majorly confused. And more than a little attracted to a guy I have no business falling for.
Draven doesn’t say anything else about the other guy—or what he’s admitted—and neither do I. Partly because I don’t know what to say, and partly because this isn’t the time or place for that kind of discussion.
Although for a villain and an ordinary, is there really ever going to be a perfect time?
We’re pretty quiet as we pick up other supplies—sandwich fixings, carrots, granola bars, a few different bags of chips. As we pass back through the dairy aisle on the way to the checkout counter, I grab a couple more bottles of chocolate milk. It’s going to be a long day, and the last thing we need is Jeremy running out of his very particular, very peculiar brand of fuel.