chpt. 10

I take a sip of my coffee and hum to myself while listening to the music on the radio. I'm interrupted by a knock on my door. I turn the radio down just a bit before answering.

I open the door, "Hey!" It's Sophia. She has freshly baked brownies in her hands.

"That smells good." I compliment.

"Right?" She hugs me and I lead her inside, making sure to lock the door.

"So how are you? How was your date yesterday? " I ask as I take the brownies from her, placing them on the kitchen counter.

"Y/n, ugh, it went so well." She sighs as she plops down on one of the chairs by the counter. 

I chuckle, "Tell me everything."

She then goes into a rather long rant, how she struggled to find an outfit to wear, was almost late due to the bus, got to the restaurant with her bouquet half squashed—all the while gesturing wildly with her hands.

She the describes her date in great detail, how she looked, her mannerisms. I smile as she retells a joke her date told her.

She sighs dreamily at the end of the rant, "It was... magical." She says with a grin.

I chuckle, "I'm so happy for you. When is the second date?" I ask, as I start to get pans and plates out of the cupboard to start making dinner. Ginger twirls between my legs as I get out some onions to cut.

"I don't know. We've been texting a lot since then. It hasn't come up yet." I nod.

"Okay, okay. But you're feeling good about this?" I question as Ginger meows. I scratch him with my foot.

Her cheeks go red, "Ugh, very! Speaking of which, how's things with mister Torch?" She questions.

I stop cutting and frown at her, "What?" I ask.

She chuckles, "Oh, come on! You didn't see the way he looked at you when he was in the shop?" She asks, wriggling her brows.

"He didn't look at me any way." I retort. My mind goes back to the two of us in the storage closet. I flush despite myself.

Sophia snorts, pointing a finger at me, "You like him!"

My shoulders sag and I frown at her, "I don't! And besides, I've just gone—"

"Through a divorce?" She asks, raising a single brow.

I glare at her, "What? You use that excuse for everything!" She says.

"I don't!" I exclaim.

"You do." She says sternly.

"And why would I?" I retort.

"Because you are scared." She says and I go silent.

My therapist said the same thing a few days ago, when the topic of Johnny Storm came up. Again.

"You seem to talk about him quite a lot." She observed.

I was taken aback, "He did save my life." I countered.

"Yes, but you keep talking about how gentle he was. With talking to you, holding you." She said.

"Oh." Was all I had said.

She had chuckled, "You also bring up your divorce whenever a male, especially Johnny, is mentioned, as a counter argument." She also said.

"And?" I had asked nervously.

"It means you are holding onto it as an excuse to avoid what's happening right in front of you. Because you are scared of being in a new relationship, because you think it's going to be like your marriage." She said.

I said nothing in response. I still stuck to the habit of bringing it up, though. I sigh as Sophia looks at me, her eyebrows raised.

"And? So what if I'm scared? So what if I'm afraid to be in a relationship again, because my brain is telling me I'm going to be abused all over again?" I ask her, my chest heaving.

She smiles, "That's the first time you've voiced your fears." She says.

I sigh. I feel oddly lighter. I look at her, "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, back to the whole, Johnny thing." She starts, wriggling her fingers at me.

I sigh, "There isn't a thing."

She sighs, exasperated, "You just told me you're scared, but you want to avoid it now?"

I tilt my head and run my hand over my face, "Okay. What?"

She mentions with her hands to me, her mouth open, "What? There is no thing! He saved my life—"

"Multiple times."

"And helped with my ex-husband—"

"Giving you time to make that choice yourself with first."

I slam my fists against the table. She freezes. My chest is heaving. "He is a superhero who fights crime, daily. I was having marriage troubles, he also—" I point my finger at her, "—has a playboy reputation. So why would he want to help or, or be involved with me? Huh?"

I had asked my therapist the same question. I already know the answer: because I treat him like a human. She had said. Not like an object being sexualized by every female he comes across, or wanting his attention just because he's famous.

I talk to him normally, treat him normally, and also know he has his own life and duties. As do I—that he knows about me, and gives me the space to do just that—live my life.

She also said I know he has a family to take care of as well as the weight of the world's responsibilities on his shoulders. She said it should be very pleasant for him to be around me, because he can let go of that famous 'Human Torch' persona and be himself.

I didn't believe her then, and still don't know as I'm standing here in my kitchen. My chest is heaving. I'm so scared to be in relationship again. I know I'll avoid it at all costs to not be in one—

My train of thought is interrupted by a knock on my door. I look at Sophia, dusting off my hands, heading to the door.

I unlock it and open it slowly. My eyes widen, my mouth opening as I take in my guest.

He stands before me, in jeans, a white shirt, red jacket and black boots. He has a bouquet in his one hand, his other in his jean pocket.

His eyes land on Sophia, "Hi. I didn't know you had company." He chuckles.

"We're just having dinner." I respond. I turn to Sophia, who nods. I step out the door, closing it behind me slowly.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my body frayed from nerves. I wrap my arms around myself.

He blue eyes look me up and down slowly, "You look... very pretty." He says, with a soft smile.

I take a slow breath, "Oh." I look down at my outfit. A simple floral shirt, black pants and pink flats. "Thank you." I reply.

"Oh, uhm, here. I bought these for you." He says, handing me the bouquet.

They're rose-looking flowers—a bright orange, with yellow along the edges and a deep red in the centre.

I chuckle, amused, "They look like your flames. They're gorgeous, thank you."

I see his ears go a bright tint of red, her coughs, "Well, I mean, my flames are... fiery."

"They are. And very cool." I look at him, amused as his ears become more red, the more I compliment him.

"Thank you, again, Johnny." I say finally.

He rocks on his heels, "You're welcome, Y/n."

"What are you doing here?" I ask again.

"Just wanted to give you those flowers. And see you..." He trails off.

My heart pangs in my chest, "Oh. We'll thank you so much." I mean it.

He smiles, "You're welcome. I should, uh, probably go. You have company. I don't want to take up more of your time." He says, awkwardly pointing behind him.

"Uh, hey—"

"Yeah?"

I swallow, "My door is always open if you want to drink water after a mission, or ya know, use the bathroom." I'm rambling, but in truth, I want him to stay longer.

He smiles sweetly at me, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind, Y/n." He winks.

I feel my stomach roll, "Okay. Uh, goodnight. See you... around?" I ask, letting the question hang between us.

"See you around." He confirms and my stomach flips in excitement.

I grin at him. His whole body goes aflame and he jumps into the air. He stops, mid-air, floating before winking at me, and leaving with a wave and an impressive back flip, leaving fire as he flies.

I wave until I don't see him anymore. I open my door, my legs are wobbly, my heart beating way to fast in my chest. I close the door behind me, leaning against the wood. Sophia smirks at me.

"Don't say a word." I warn.