Summer feels maudlin about graduation. Jason, Alycia, and Nono all graduated. Leo and Aria are in her grade, but she’s still reluctant to get too close to them during regular school hours, or any other time. She has other friends, too, but - eh. Things are changing and she doesn’t like it.
Nono got herself a girlfriend at some point. Good for her. Jason and Alycia - 'nuff said. Leo and Aria - 'nuff said. She’s happy that Leo is happy, overjoyed that her sister is happy, even happy in a way that it’s not her. It’s a resolution of some kind, and Pneuma always wanted certainty in her life, regardless of where it took her. It bothers her a little that everyone else is pairing up, leaving school, getting jobs, whatever. Maybe the price of living your own life is that you’ll be left behind when everyone else goes off to live theirs.
She does what she always does when it’s time to shake off a bad feeling: she goes somewhere new and does something different. There’s tactical reasons for today’s choice, of course. The last time she met Colin at Blintzkrieg, the manager made a supportive-sounding comment about “that nice young man of yours” and Summer had to clear up the misunderstanding about their situation. So there’ll be no more “meet me at work” events, to avoid people talking.
Today, she’s going downtown to try a place Otto recommended, Binder’s Brats. And how the hell did Otto come to make a restaurant recommendation anyway, she wonders. She suspects he just read Yelp reviews or something. Well, trying new food is never a bad thing.
Colin is waiting for her at the transit center. He’s alternating staring at his phone and looking around like some kind of owl when she steps off the bus and waves. It’s a quarter mile to the restaurant. Plenty of time to talk - if someone starts doing so.
She watches his face. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something. She opens her mouth, and he does at the same time. “Go ahead.” “Sorry, go ahead.”
He ends the verbal logjam by finally speaking up. “I sent you some pretty dumb texts. I’ll try to do better.”
She smiles, and sees relief wash over his face at her reaction. “It’s okay, it was really sweet that you were concerned about my well-being. Knowing my friends care about how I’m doing is what keeps me going.”
He nods, uncertain, and Summer wonders how much of what he wanted to say, or thought about saying, there really was. How much did he hold back? She tries something. “I’m sorry too.”
Colin looks scandalized. “For what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”
Well, that’s debatable, but… “I feel like I’m making you feel uncomfortable. Is there anything you’d like me to say, or … or do… that would put you more at ease?”
Colin shakes his head. “No! I mean, nothing I can think of. If I do, I’ll tell you. I’m just really excited that someone’s taking me seriously, you know? And someone like you, who’s…” Summer watches his face twist, as he mentally reassembles what he wanted to say into something tactful. “… who’s so close to the situation.”
He goes on. “You told me a little about yourself. I wanna do the same, if that’s okay.” He pauses just long enough to see an assenting smile on her face. “I grew up in Halcyon City. Justice - I mean the hero, y’know, not the concept - is a big deal and their story is the city’s story. But even here there’s bullies. My cousin has a learning disability, and she’s in a wheelchair, and she got bullied when she was younger. And it made me so mad, and I would go punch the kids who were doing it. But 'cause I was smaller than them, I got beat up a lot.”
He grins, embarrassed and proud in the same moment. “It was either learn how to fight, or learn how to make people stop being horrible to each other. I took three months of Tae Kwon Do and it wasn’t for me. I felt like beating up bullies would just be more bullying. I started learning about social justice. But my cousin took care of herself faster than I could. People love her, now. I didn’t have to do anything.”
His shoulders slump, though his voice doesn’t change. “Guess I felt like I didn’t have anything to contribute. I wanted to help, y’know? But who? And how? So that’s how I met Marion. And I got into Gardner, and joined the ABCs - the woke people. Ugh, that word always makes me feel weird.”
Summer smiles appreciatively. “You sound like you’re a really good guy.”
Colin snorts. “Hey, thanks for not using the phrase ‘nice guy’. Ugh, those guys.”
Binder’s Brats has the option of outdoor seating. It’s bare bones: metal tables and chairs, laminated no-frills menus, just the tagline (“the wurst place in Halcyon!”) and a list of dishes and prices. A carafe of water further removes the need for the serving staff to interact with you. Summer’s not impressed so far, but she’ll wait until she actually eats something to pass judgement.
Summer doesn’t want to have a serious conversation interrupted by the serving staff, and apparently Colin doesn’t either. That, or he’s still being careful what he talks about. Instead, she brings up a topic that could perhaps benefit from some interruption. “I said you were a good guy earlier. That sounded a little bland, I’m sorry. I meant it to sound better. It’s really important to care about something in this world. We have governments, and superheroes, and cops, and teachers, and they’re all supposed to help make things better. But all those people, they can turn corrupt, or stop caring. Heroes are the ones who keep on caring, even when it’s tough to do.”
Colin hangs his head, cheeks quite red at the praise. Fortunately for him, this is the moment when one of the waiters comes by. Nobody’s ordering beer today. Summer wants the chicken-apple brats, and Colin asks for the BBQ plate with pulled pork and sampler cuts. “Plus a big glass of milk!” he adds. “Dairy helps with the spiciness,” he explains.
The waiter removes himself, leaving two young people with nothing to do but talk to each other, which is obviously the worst thing ever, if you’ve had to do it.
Colin finally pipes up. “Um, I know I keep apologizing, sorry. Meta-apology, I guess. If uh, if I’ve been rude to you, or crossed any lines, or y’know, done anything I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.”
Summer notices that he’s pointedly looking at anything but her. Did he actually check me out the last time, and is he still worried about it? Is he apologizing for that? Or am I still interpreting things through my own lens?
“You’ve been very considerate when we’ve talked,” she says, in some attempt at reassurance. It’s all she can do now, since she’s still trying to figure herself out. What do you say in a moment like this? Hey, it’s okay, you looked at a girl’s body a little longer than you should have, but you couldn’t help it? Hey, it’s not okay, and you should be sorry, don’t ever do it again? Hey, I feel kind of put on the spot by this whole thing? Hey, let’s just forget it and have lunch and talk social justice?
He seems respectful. If she called him out, would it be bitchy? Would it push him away? What’s the right thing to do, to both keep this conversation (and the budding friendship) alive, and to set boundaries?
“You’re really hot,” he blurts out. Summer studies his face, curious at what’s going on. He looks like a criminal who just made a confession and is feeling relief at letting go of the burden of it.
Well, now what, genius? What do you say to that?
Um.
“Drink milk, it helps with hot stuff.”
Jesus, did I really say that?
But he laughs, and she laughs, and suddenly everything is okay.
“It’s really important to me to get your opinion on this stuff. And your blessing,” he says. “I think I understand why you’re doing your hero stuff. I can’t help with that, but I want to do whatever I can for robots - not just you, but you as well. But um, I’m also a guy, you’re also a girl, I might get distracted sometimes, I’m gonna do my best not to.” He leans across the table, now earnest, and meets her eyes. “This is really, really important to me. I’m not gonna lose it by treating you like a thing. Robots, and girls, have had that much in common, haven’t they.”
Summer feels taken aback. “Yeah, we have,” she says at last. A smile flickers across her lips.
Colin reclines into the metal chair. “I’m–”
She holds up a hand immediately. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I know you don’t intend any harm, Colin. It’s clear to me that you mean well, you’re the real thing, and you have integrity. I don’t doubt you.”
He’s blushing again, and she feels obligated to fill the silence.
“You complimented my appearance before. That’s usually an objectifying remark. In my particular case, I feel like I’m okay accepting the compliment, because what I look like is something I chose. I could be a six foot burly Amazon girl, or I could look ten or something. I look like this for my own reasons - it’s most comfortable, or familiar, to look like this. I didn’t design it to be hot. I wanted… something people wouldn’t remark on. Something everyday.”
“Girl Next Door,” prompts Colin.
“Yeah, kind of.” Summer grins. She hadn’t thought about that phrase, but it fits.
Colin seems to have marshaled his confidence. “You mean the girl the audience actually wants the hero to wind up with?”
God dammit.
But he’s got more. “Well, wish granted. Yes, you’re beautiful. But I’m more interested in what you have to say than how you look, so maybe that’s the best compliment I can pay to your appearance: I think you succeeded at your goal.”
It’s Summer’s turn to blush. Thank God the waiter has come back.