stayed in the house and only called her sister or her mother. Being around people who were supposedly ‘normal’ made her feel abnormal.
She’d never had that problem before. Her life was split in two like that: before versus after.
“You’re my sweet little weirdo, aren’t you Ruthie? God, I love you.”
“You hungry?”
Her heart almost leapt out of her chest. She came back to the present, staring blankly at the man in the doorway. Evan. He was, tragically, completely clothed.
“No,” she said. “I’m not.”
“You sure?”
Ruth stared. “Are you a feeder?”
Evan wandered over to her with a slight frown marring his pretty face. He sat down beside her, and even though the sofa was big enough for three, she felt slightly panicked.
Too close. She wouldn’t mind, if she didn’t know she’d end up embarrassing herself somehow.
“What’s a feeder?” he asked.
“Someone who has a fetish involving… you know, feeding people. Feeding fat people.”
He looked down at her, his eyes running over her body, achingly slow. Ruth swallowed.
Then he looked up at her face again and said, “I’m not a feeder. Are you wearing pyjamas?”
“I always wear pyjamas.”
“Why?”
Ruth felt her cheeks heat. “I just do,” she muttered.
“What if you went out somewhere? Say, on a date. Would you wear pyjamas?”
“I don’t go on dates,” Ruth said.
He smiled again. “You’re not good at this ‘Jezebel’ thing.”
“Ask your friends how good I am.”
Evan cocked his head. “Are you trying to put me off?”
“Put you off what?”
He studied her for a moment, his eyes boring into her face. His gaze was a living, breathing thing, and she was suffocating beneath it.
Not necessarily in a bad way.
Eventually he said, “Don’t worry about it.”
She had no idea what he meant, but she was used to that. He probably wasn’t making fun of her. In fact, she was almost sure he wasn’t.
Which was odd. Ruth was rarely sure, when it came to that kind of thing.
He produced the comics she’d given him the last time they spoke, holding one in each hand.
“These were good,” he said. “I mean, a good place to start, for someone as ignorant as me. They seemed to follow on from the film.”
“Kind of,” she nodded, “but the MCU often differs from the comic books in multiple ways, for commercial reasons.”
“MCU?” He arched one thick, blond brow. She liked it when he did that, which was a disturbing realisation.
Looking down at her hands, Ruth explained, “MCU: Marvel Cinematic Universe. There are lots of different timelines and realities when it comes to this sort of thing, and it’s good to know and separate them. Otherwise you open a book expected T’Challa and Storm to be estranged, only to find they actually have a son.”
“Huh.” Evan blinked down at the comic books. “Sounds like some soap opera shit.”
“Of course. Comics are very dramatic.”
“They’re kind of… very everything, aren’t they?” he asked. “There’s drama, comedy, tragedy—”
“Everything!” Ruth echoed. Her voice was louder, more excited than she’d meant it to be. Oops. Toning it down slightly, she went on. “That’s exactly it. That’s why I love them so much.”
He grinned. “I get it.”
And it quickly became apparent that he really, truly did. They spoke for ages about the comics he’d read, and then he spent even longer trying to trick spoilers out of her. He failed, of course. Ruth Kabbah was no fool.
At least, she didn’t like to think she was.
Eventually, when the window showed the orange glow of streetlights instead of the afternoon sun, Ruth pulled herself back into the real world.
“I should go,” she said, cutting off Evan’s speech about the upcoming Avengers film. She’d pulled up the trailer on her phone—and now, of course, he was full of opinions and questions.
But she couldn’t stay to hear them.
He frowned. “You’re leaving? Already?”
Ruth checked the time. “I’ve been here for over three hours.”
He looked astonished. “Three hours?”
“Yes. I should go.”
“Wait—” As she stood, he reached out to grab her wrist. His long fingers pressed firmly against her skin, hot as a brand. Ruth choked down a gasp at the sudden, unfamiliar sensation.
He heard. Instantly, he let go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” she said quickly. It took all of her willpower not to look down at her wrist, not to cradle it against her chest as though he’d hurt her. He hadn’t hurt her.
He’d scared her. Because, with just a touch, he’d set her alight. That had happened once before, and it had been bad news.
Evan stood too, towering over her. For the first time, his expression betrayed