Frobin’s Love Child

It feels childish. You’re acting like a ten-year-old with a crush, giddy with excitement while he stands oblivious next to you. Should you ask him where he’s taking you? That question feels too datey, too boyfriend-girlfriendy. Instead, you land on just keeping quiet. The silence lingers for a few seconds before he perks up.

“So. You like coffee?” His question is so obviously trying to break the ice, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Of course, I can’t live without it. And i haven’t had my fix today, so it’s a good thing we’re going.”

Jason laughs. “Right. I’m guessing this has something to do with you running so late?”

“Yeah. My friends and I stayed up late last night and ended up sleeping so late. I thought i’d set an alarm, but. I guess I didn’t.”

“Levine didn’t care, trust me. You’re one of his favourite students.”

You shake your head in denial, but Jason doubles down.

“No, seriously, you are. You’re smarter than half the people in there.”

“Says you. You hide all those smarts behind those good looks.”

Shit. You can almost feel the smirk on his face.

“You think I’m good looking?”

“Shut up.”

Jason laughs. He holds open the door for you, and you walk out of the building. It’s early, only one o’clock, and there's still a considerable amount of people milling about. It’s warm enough outside that there’s some studying in small groups on the grass, books and pens spread out in front of them. At least, you think they’re supposed to be studying. But with the sun shining as brightly as it was, you figure not a lot of work is getting done.

Jason walks you to the car park, and stops. You look around for a car, but there isn’t one. Instead, he stops in front of a motorcycle.

“And we’re here. This, this right here is my pride and joy.” He rubs the leather seat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Jason. I’m not getting on that.”

He looks slightly offended. “What? Why not?”

Your mouth gapes. “What do you mean why? Do you know how risky it is to ride a motorcycle? Like- My dads a doctor, you know. I’ve heard stories. About accidents.”

Jason tilts his head. He walks towards you, standing just a few inches in front of you. You have to look up to meet his eyes, he’s so tall. He smells like expensive cologne and something boyish, and you’re sure he’s close enough to feel the heat coming off your face.

“I’ll look after you, sweetheart. Promise.” He murmurs, voice rumbling deep in his chest.

You laugh shakily. Tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, if only for something to do.

“And besides,” He reaches behind him and grabs a helmet, “You can wear this. Keep that pretty head of yours safe.”

You scoff and move away before he can see how flustered you look. You bite your lip, anxiously looking at the bike.

“You’re sure this is safe?”

“Positive.”

You think for a moment. The things you do for good-looking men.

“Okay. Okay, fine, hurry up. We need to go before I think for a second and change my mind.”

He cheers and hands you the helmet. He gets on first, legs stretching over the bike, thighs resting against the seat. You curse under your breath, thankful the helmet is covering your face. You get on behind him. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how close you are. Your hands hover awkwardly.

“Uh, what do I hold onto?”

“My waist.”

Right. Of course it was his waist.

You reach over, arms meeting in front of his middle. You clasp your hands together and stay completely on top of where they rest, because you’re sure you’ve embarrassed yourself enough without touching his crotch.

“You ready?”

“No.”

The words barely leave your mouth before the engine revs, the bike rumbling beneath you. You screech, hands clenching his waist. You think you hear him laugh, but you can't ponder too much about that, or the feel of what you think might be a six-pack beneath his shirt, because he’s moving, and you think you’re about to fall off.

It’s loud, and the wind is making your clothes billow behind you, but it feels freeing, in an odd sort of way. The fear bleeds into adrenaline that fills your veins, and your screaming turns into cheers.

The ride ends all too quickly, and Jason parks at a café well-known enough around your campus. You hop off the bike, and he follows. You take off the helmet, laughing.

“That was amazing! Terrifying, but also amazing.”

Jason nods, taking the helmet out of your hands. His hair is dishevelled from the wind, cheeks flushed red. You don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

“I told you it would be fun.”

The two of you walk inside. He leads you to a table near the back, ushers you into the booth. You bring out your books, and he brings out his. You set up your things and he stands, tapping his fingers against the chair.

“What do you want to drink?” He asks.

“Hmm. A latte. With an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold order.”

He disappears, and you finally have time to freak out. You pull out your phone, frantically texting your friends. They explode on the group chat, and you giggle, the flurry of emojis and capital letters easing your nerves. Half of them think it's a date, the other half think it’s all friendly. You can’t decide who you agree with because Jason comes back with your drinks. You quickly turn your phone off and thank him for the drink. He nods at your phone.

“You look smiley. Who are you texting? A boyfriend?” He doesn’t make eye contact as he asks, eyes turned down to his glass.

“No, my friends. They’re just wondering where I am. No boyfriend.”

“Good.”

You raise an eyebrow and he shakes his head.

“Not like that. Just. Good your friends care, you know?”

It’s cute. He’s cute, you think, as the two of you study. He takes pictures of some of your annotations. You peek at his home screen, and see a picture of him and three other boys, all of them grinning apart from him, who's staring grumpily at the camera. You joke about Professor Levine’s long lectures, complain about the essay that you both haven’t started. It’s nice, to talk to someone who’s actually doing the subject you are. And someone’s who's so good at it. If his looks weren’t enough, Jason’s intellect might have to be the sexiest thing about him. He listens to your rambles and answers back with ones just as long. Definitely the best part about him.

After about an hour of that, you spend more time getting to know one another. You learn he has one older brother and two younger ones. He doesn’t linger on his family life too much, and you decide not to pry. He likes to workout (so it was a six-pack you’d felt earlier) and his favourite poet is Emily Dickinson. Which might’ve been enough for you to propose on the spot.

You finish off the last dregs of your latte and he downs his too. He ended up buying some snacks, and you learn that Jason Todd loves blueberry muffins. You glance at the time, and gape.

“Oh god, i gotta get home. I’ve got so much stuff to do tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll drop you.” There's a lilt of disappointment in his voice, and you try not to like it.

The ride back is just as fun as before, and this time you definitely don’t hold him tight enough to feel the line of his muscles beneath his shirt. He parks in the same place as before, and walks you to the door of your dorm.

“Well. This is me.” You sigh.

“Yep.”

The two of you pause for a second. You say your goodbyes, and go to enter. But you pause, just before your key slips in the lock.

The question you’re about to ask can go one of two ways, but you think you have to ask it. Your friends will kill you if you don’t, and you think you might too. You turn back to face Jason, who still hasn’t left.

“Jason, I have to ask. Was this, like. A friendly café revision session? Or was it. You know, something more.”

He tilts his head again. A curl falls across his eyes. His eyelashes are impossibly long, and they frame the bright brown eyes that always stare right into you.

“I’d like it to be a date. If you don’t mind.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god. Of course, I don’t mind.”

You shut your mouth, reigning in the rest of your ramble of how desperate you were to go out with him.

“Cool. I was going to ask you straight up, but I thought it might be a bit too forward.”

You huff a laugh. “It’s okay. I like forward.”

“Noted.” He pauses for a second. “Give me your phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

He falters a little at that, before straightening up and grabbing your phone. You will definitely be looking into that later. He opens your contacts and types in his number. He sends himself a text, and his phone buzzes.

“Alright. I’ll text you, and maybe we could go out again?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Damn you, Jason Todd.

You reach up and place a kiss on his cheek. It takes every ounce of your control not to kiss him properly, but you better save something for your other dates.

That night, you fall asleep with the taste of latte on your lips and the smell of Jason’s cologne in your head.

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AUTHORS NOTE