rice to meet you

He had not heard back from you.

It’s been over a month and you haven’t even looked at the text thread. No green around your profile image. Nothing to let him know if you were reading, debating on responding but too nervous to.

‘Not enough to keep me from asking you to dinner’

Every night before bed, during the quiet hours where work and projects could not fill the noise of his brain—he re-read that last text and spiraled.

Had he been to forward?

Did he diminish the banter, thus ruining your interest in him?

Maybe you had simply changed your mind. Moved on without a second thought of him. While he knew your face, voice and teasing smile would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Left behind to be the workaholic hero while you went on to live a full life, doing—what did you do?

The more he thought about it, that night of meeting you, everything he learned had been about your younger years. Nothing of what you did now, what you were like now.

Perhaps it was for the best.

At least, that had been his thought before falling a sleep last night.

Before a bank robbery had called in multiple hero’s to the area, before his alarm clock could go off.

Before he had arrived on scene just as one of the robbers was heading his way.

Before his fibers had shot out to grab them by their ankles, dragging the perp through rough gravel back to him. Their hands scrambling to grab onto something, anything, to keep from their fate.

Before he flipped them over, a monologue filled with fabric and jean euphemisms ready on the tip of his tongue.

Before his voice froze mid word.

Before it was your face looking up at him in terror.

What little air was left in his single lung was used to whisper your name in shock. The threads that had been around your ankles went slack just as his arms did.

You made no move to run.

He watched as your face flashed through a myriad of emotions, before ending on fighting back the shine growing on your water line.

When foot steps were heard getting closer to the area you both were at, your eyes closed. As if already giving up.

And you were.

You had heard his voice just before his threads had caught you and dragged you across the gravel moments ago.

You fraught the whole path, finger nails bloody and skin raw. All to keep from seeing the disappointment on his face when he flipped you over.

But what you saw was so much worse.

He looked shocked—and heart broken.

When he said your name it took everything to keep from letting out a sob.

So when the foot steeps got closer, you accepted your fate.

— It was the day after the gathering. He hadn’t received any more texts besides the initial one you’d sent, letting him known your number.

— He hadn’t checked his phone all day. ( he checked it every 10 minutes ) He refused to initiate the start of a conversation, anything to keep from looking as foolish (adorable) as he had last night.

— Of course when you did finally text, it was during a large meeting. Other fellow hero’s of high ranks gathered around a table, as a person from the safety commission spoke about trending—

‘Hello Denim Daddy.’

— He had only glanced at the screen when it lit up. The phone was on the desk, face up. A mistake that he would greatly come to regret. The notification was easy for Mirko, who sat next to him, to see.

— Mirko grinned, her lips spreading slowly. “Holy shit! Denim Daddy?!” The words were all but yelled, interrupting the meeting completely.

— If last night was a blush, this was a tomato under his skin. “Mirko would you kindly mind your—“

— Gesturing with her prosthetic, her laughter barely let air get in. “He’s got someone texting him that! Mr. Emotionally Constipated’s got himself a—“ threads from her hero costume wrapped around her mouth, muffling anything else that could be said.

— “Not. Another. Word.” Clearing his throat, face still red, his hand motioned for the presenter to continue.

— Moving the phone from where it sat on the desk to his thigh, just out of site from certain people, still enough for him to see. He replied. ‘Denim Daddy? Really?’

— He was shocked at how fast the quick witted response came.

‘Oh, I apologize. Would you prefer Fiber Father?’

— Eyes narrowing he responded. ‘Are you enjoying this?’

‘Immensely.’

— He locked the phone screen. Frustrated, refusing to encourage your behavior. He didn’t even last a full minute. ‘You could have just said hello you know.’

‘That’s what I had been waiting for you to do all day. How else am I supposed to flirt with you if you leave me waiting?’

— He gulped, eyes glancing to make sure no one else was watching him. ‘I’ve been doing patrols and in meetings all day.’ Coward, he thought.

‘Riiight. Is that why I see your checking the phone every five minutes? Did you forget we can both see when the other is on the text thread?’

— If it wouldnt have added to his already growing humiliation, his forehead would have slammed against the desk.

— Yes. Yes he had forgotten. Wait, that meant every time he saw the green around your contact that you were also—

‘Hey, it’s okay if you’re not interested. I promise I’ll understand. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.’

— What—you thought he wasn’t—NO!

— His thumbs flew across the screen. ‘You’re not. I just don’t have a lot of experience with someone so forward—‘ Delete. Delete. Delete.

— He tried again. ‘I was hoping to create an atmosphere—‘ What is wrong with him?! Delete.

— Third times the charm. ‘I promise, you are doing nothing of the sort. I’m happy you were the first to message. Clearly I’ve been struggling with that all day.’

‘What’s this, a hero scared of a quirkless civilian?’

— His brow raised at that one. ‘Not enough to keep me from asking you to dinner’

— You yelped, throwing the cellphone across the room. Looking at it, terrified, like a feral cat on the arm of your couch. When the hell did he get—when was the last time someone—shit

— when the phone vibrated on the floor of your kitchen, you scrambled, crawling to grab it. Looking at the screen, your shoulders dropped when the message wasn’t from him.

— While he always expected to meet someone at a fashion event. He is genuinely caught off guard when meeting you at a small gathering with close friends. The circumstances of always somehow missing eachother over the years intrigued him.

— He’s even more caught off guard, it turns out you were wild during your younger years. He couldn’t imagine it. You seemed so well put together and your voice—ehem. Well, your mutual friends began teasing you and more and more stories came to light.

— You used to ride motorcycles. Had been caught numerous times smoking pot. A heart breaker, always refusing to have an actual relationship. Your friends teased saying that you used to be a feral cat that’s mellowed to a house cat once you hit your thirties.

— It was when you flirted with him—more at him really—that he blushed. So much so that the color was visible even over his shirts high collar. He was used to woman being shy or fan girlish around him. You looked at him like you wanted to eat him alive.

— Did he used to sweat this much?

— When he sputtered something back, floundering in trying to be smooth, you smiled. It was the kind that made your eyes crinkle, genuine and almost bashful at realizing he was genuinely interested.

— As everyone was leaving the gathering, he pulled you aside and asked you out for dinner. Bypassing asking for your phone number to flirt back and forth for a month or two, like he usually did. His heart was pounding, gut telling him it was the right choice.

— Your eyes looked so bright, crinkling again as you smiled. You teased him lightly about being so adorable, when he thought it was a refusal and started to pull away—you grabbed his elbow and walked in front of him still smiling.

— You apologized for your own nerves coming out wrong—you were nervous? He was nervous? Both of you felt like teenagers in the moment as you nodded your head.

— Reaching up, you hooked a finger into the lip of his shirts high collar collar. Pulling it down only just enough for his cheek bone to be seen before pressing a soft kiss there.

— You walked to your motorcycle, drove off.

— He stood there, like a love sick puppy.

— His phone buzzed. Looking down he realized you had somehow snuck your number into his contacts.