Page 51 of Signed, I'm Yours!
He shrugs and takes a sip of the cola the events manager offered him amid all the kerfuffle.
“There’s no such thing. Everyone deserves a little kindness, and I’m happy to be that person for people.”
I scoff and snatch the cola from his hand. I still can’t believe they didn’t bring me any. Or popcorn. Or a hot dog. Am I a paying customer here, or what?
Oh, right. I’m not.
“You wouldn’t say that if your power didn’t make you happy twenty-four-seven.”
He laughs it off.
“But I am my power, so…we’ll never know, I guess.”
“Whatever,” I say, taking a sip off the same straw I now realize Jack has.
We’re practically kissing.
As if my cock needs an excuse. Well, apparently, it does. And it gets rock hard. Again.
“Hello. I’m Kevin,” A man stands in the middle of the stage and peers at us through a pair of old man glasses.
Because he’s old.
Like really old.
Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s over a hundred.
“This is hopeless.” I sigh and hand the cola back to Jack.
I make to get up, but Jack puts his hand on mine, and I lose all purpose and determination. So I sit back and attempt to ignore the scorching fire pulsing through me.
“But you can call me Paper Trail.”
“That’s great, Paper Trail. And what is your power? Why do you think you’d be a great fit as the Sinister Seomyeong’s sidekick?” he asks before he leans next to me and whispers. “You still haven’t told me what Seomyeong means.”
“It’s signature. It means signature, okay?”
“Is that it?” He grimaces. “Then why don’t you call yourself the Sinister Signature?”
“Excuse me? Are you trying to white-wash my brand?”
“No! Just trying to make it more accessible. How are people supposed to know what kind of sinister supervillain you are if they can’t understand half your name?”
I put my whole hand in his face and tut.
“I cannot believe you just said that.”
Paper Trail coughs. “I don’t know who Sinister Saumon is…”
Jack raises both eyebrows as if to say:See? He doesn’t know who you are or what your name is.
I pull my hand back and give him my meanest glare to date. No, serious. I’d be terrified if I was on the other end of it. It feels very…sinister.
“That’s cute. Now focus. You’re being rude,” he answers, and I have a few choice words for him, but I bury them down, for now.
“My power is that I can create an unbearable amount of paperwork,” Paper Trail says.
I turn to him.
