Page 26 of All Superheroes Need PR
The comments were insane. People—mostly women, but people across the gender spectrum too—had gone absolutely feral every time he’d threatened a reporter for me. The top comment on the seven-second clip Margerie posted from that day read, “Any good ducking girls in the building?” It already had twenty-fourthousandlikes.
Nobody was talking about the wine incident anymore. All anyone was talking about was me. Analyzing how we looked together. How I looked at him. How he looked at me.
She’s shy.
“Awwwww.” That was the top comment on the clip Margerie posted to his official page. He already had 180,000 followers. I had half that many. And yeah. Margerie was right to tell me not to go through the comments. Because while most of them were loving the Wyvern’s love story with the shy, awkward Blerd, a lot of people were also loving trashing me. It didn’t matter that the Wyvern had shown up unshaven in sweatpants with dirty hair or that I’d spent two hours getting ready that morning. I was still too short, too tall, too skinny, too fat, too uptight, too, too, too ... ugly ... for him.
And after the conference, I wanted to talk to him, but all I’d managed to do was get a weakly uttered thanks out. He’d responded by glaring at me and then leaving.
You’re just an ugly little shit, Vanessa.I can hear her voice in my head, a constant reminder of a life I don’t seem to be able to leave behind.
I remember being a kid when the Forty-Eight fell and discovering that they’d all lost memories of their childhoods. How jealous I’d been.
I move my phone to the nightstand and close my eyes. I do my breathing exercises even though I’ve been doing them on repeat already and my chest is starting to hurt. I know I can’t control what people say about me. I know it’s stupid to try. ButmaybeI could afford to lose a few pounds. I grab my stomach fat under my belly button and squeeze. I could go for a run tomorrow morning.
You take too much after your deadbeat daddy. No man’s ever going to find you pretty.
I roll onto my side and reach for my phone, set a new alarm and close my eyes purposefully.
I can still see the notifications blipping with cruel taunts and jeers, so I squeeze my body into a tiny ball and force my thoughts in another direction. It’s easy once I give myself permission.
You stupid little—
—Nessa.A warm syrup paints up and down my spine.Nessa’s a good fucking girl.
He stood up for me. I know logically that I can’t trust him. Actions speak louder than words, and so far his actions and words have been a nail bomb where each nail is either outright angry or almost nice.
He caught me when I fell in the boardroom, then told me to get lost. He took me to my parents’ house when I couldn’t stand, then beat up my brothers. He fired me, then bound me to a contract that will keep us close for years. He told me he’d move in with me but didn’t.
I don’t understand, and yet ...
You don’t talk to her, you talk to me.
I exhale into my pillow, close my eyes, and dream.
Chapter NineVanessa
“Vanessa! Vanessa!”
“Vanessa, over here!”
“Is it true you’re already on the outs with the Wyvern?”
Yes,I think bitterly, though I don’t bother answering the two journalists following me.
I keep jogging—not because I feel pressured by social media comments but because these past three weeks when I’ve set out towalkfrom my town house to the COE headquarters, I’ve been approached by journalists. Mobbed. I’ve found that keeping up a good pace can help deter them.
And in the past three weeks, I’ve barely talked to the Wyvern. He’s been dutifully reporting to all the meetings, letting designers poke and prod at him to fit him for his uniform. The COE wants photos taken at the end of the month with him and the other local Champions. He’s unenthusiastically agreed to all of it.
He still hasn’t moved in with me.
And while I’m notupsethe hasn’t, it’s just left me feeling off-kilter. Like I did something wrong. I know my performance at the press conference was pitiful. Maybe he’s having buyer’s remorse.
No man’ll ever love you like I do, Vanessa. Tell ’em, sweetheart.
Without us, you’ll be alone forever!
The last things the people who gave birth to me said before they were taken away by the cops. They were wrong. I realized that after meeting the Theriots. I’ve known that every day since.
