“Hold that door!” Jayla shouts, dropping my arm and sprinting the rest of the way. Thank god for battle-ready outfits. She slides in her arm just as it closes, and the door bounces back open. She grins as I stumble in after her, laughing hard. I lean against the rail to catch my breath and realize with a start that we’re not alone.

Batman stands in the corner, head tilted, taking in the sight of us. Well, a smaller, teenage-looking version of Batman, anyway—in a white dress shirt, a skinny tie, and dark fitted jeans. Okay, fine, so it’s basically just a dude in a mask. But it counts.

I can tell Jayla is probably about two seconds away from monologuing about the undue appreciation the comics industry shows for mediocre white boys and how this boy in a mask is case in point because he’ll probably take prom king just for showing up. It’s her favorite topic, and she’s definitely not wrong—but it would make for an awkward elevator ride. I’m a little bit relieved when she just rolls her eyes at him and bustles to the opposite side of the elevator car, mumbling, “What’s up, Office Batman?”

He bends down and picks up a feather I must have lost while sprinting into the elevator, spinning it around in his long fingers. Piano fingers, I muse. I have a habit of reducing everyone down to the instrument they should play. Jayla would be a saxophone; my other best friend, Nikki, is a flute; my ex, Dakota, is an out-of-tune harpsichord. Vera is a—

“Lost one,” Batman says, all quiet. And yeah, that mask and the scrape of his voice and the way he’s sliding up his sleeves right now are kind of working for him. The idea of “pushing the boundaries” just got a lot more interesting.

“I guess I did.” I smile and reach for it, but he just keeps twirling it, like he’s in no hurry to give it back.

“She must be molting,” Jayla deadpans. She pushes the button for the first floor, even though it’s already glowing.

“Are you going to prom?” he asks.

Jayla widens her eyes, like obviously, dude, and nods.

“We are.” I elbow Jayla. “Are you?”

“Nah.” He reaches across and hits the button for the second floor, which is odd considering he had to have been the one who hit the button for the first floor to begin with. “I like your dress, though,” he says, a little bit quiet, as the elevator doors ping open. He holds his hand out, offering me the feather.

“Keep it,” I say, and a blush rises to my cheeks as he turns to leave.

CHAPTER TWO

Ridley