I laughed, and then I lifted my arm and gave him a thumbs-up.
I looked behind the nightstand for maybe the fifth time and frowned.
Where the hell was my charger?
It had been here in the morning because I’d charged my phone overnight, and I knew for a fact I hadn’t taken it out of the room. I didn’t want to leave my stuff everywhere. It wasn’t like it could have grown legs and walked away.
Which meant…
Alex had the same brand of phone I did. He hadn’t asked for my number, and I hadn’t asked him for his either. Not that I was upset over it.
Creeping over to the doorway, I stopped and listened. There were noises coming from the direction of his study or maybe his room. I headed over, crossing my arms over my chest to hide my boobs as much as possible. The library was empty, his office door closed, but the light in his room was on. I went to the doorway, and my whole body suddenly jerked.
Alex was changing. He was in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head. Golden skin rippled. Muscles I didn’t know existed twisted and contracted as he tugged a plain gray T-shirt down that incredible body.
And he knew I was there.
Keep it together. Keep it together. Oh boy, keep it together.
I cleared my throat super dramatically and knocked on the doorframe. “Hey, did you see my charger?” I asked, knowing he could hear how rough that came out but trying to play it off. So I’d seen him shirtless. That was nothing between us at this point. It wasn’t even the first time.
Alex turned, giving me a quick view of his oblique muscles as he finished pulling his shirt down. “On my nightstand,” he answered, those big hands already back to moving as he started to take his watch off.
I glanced toward his bed and stopped again.
I hadn’t done more than peek into his room that first day we’d arrived. His door was usually always closed, and I hadn’t had the balls to go in there without permission. I wasn’t about to go and violate his trust like that.
So I wasn’t expecting to see the stacks of what looked like magazines on his nightstand.
And along the floor.
There was even a small bookshelf crammed to the max with hardcovers and paperbacks.
And most surprising was the framed poster on the wall with a trophy sitting in front of it.
I glanced at him. He was watching me as he set his watch into a box on top of his dresser. His face was relaxed, but something about his features told me that wasn’t totally the case with the rest of him.
Making my way toward the furniture, I spotted my charging cable sitting on top of the tallest of the stacks there. I unplugged it and then stopped again, looking at the opened notebook sitting on top of the stack of books. It was that same notebook he was always scribbling in when he was working in his office.
I shouldn’t have. I know I shouldn’t read what he wrote in it.
But I did.
I read it twice.
No.
I flicked my gaze to the poster and squinted at it. Then I looked down to read the title for the magazine below it. Only it wasn’t a magazine. It was a comic book. I froze before taking in the one below it, then the one below that.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alex cross his arms like he was waiting.
I crouched and slowly picked through the stack, finding another notebook wedged between some of them, shaking my head the whole time.
And that was when I got a good look at it.
The trophy in the shape of a star. I didn’t need to get closer to read the plaque below it either.
PLEITSKY AWARD
BEST WRITER
ALEX AKITA
I’d heard about the Pleitsky Award because one of my students had taken lessons from me in preparation to start to work with a recipient. They were comic book awards. They were the Oscars of comic books.
I couldn’t believe it.
This sneaky—
His chuckle caught me almost as off guard as what the hell I’d just read.
“What are you laughing at?” I barked.
He laughed even harder. “The expression on your face right now.”
This sneaky motherfucker. I pointed at the trophy, then held up the book closest to me. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
Alex laughed even harder. It was brilliant and beautiful and everything I could have ever imagined a genuine laugh from him sounding like. “You never asked what I did for a living.”
I blinked. “Our whole friendship seems like a fraud now.”
Alexander Shōta Akita started cracking the fuck up.
“You have at least twenty Electro-Man comics right here!” I held up the one in my hand even higher. “You have a first edition of Steelflyer sitting around like it isn’t worth a fortune.”
The smile Alex gave me right then, midlaugh was something I was never going to be able to forget. Not ever. But I was too busy being fucking flabbergasted to really process it. Not surprised. Not astounded. Flabbergasted.
Who the hell was this man?
“I told you I understood your Mistress of Mayhem comment.”
“You said you had a TV,” I muttered, not believing this shit at all.
“I do. You’ve watched movies on it.”
I set the book down and shook my head. “How could you deceive me like this?”
Oh, his smile. “I thought you would’ve noticed them when you snooped through the rest of the house.”
“The rest of the house but not your room or office,” I explained again quietly.
It was like he plugged himself into an outlet, he glowed so brightly right then as his smile widened. “It’s more fun when you figure things out on your own.”
“We watched the fucking movies because I thought you hadn’t!”
“I haven’t,” he said, smiling. “I just read through the script to make sure they stayed true to the storylines.”
I put my hand over my heart as I stared at him.
And he… he fucking smiled even more. “My grandfather will love knowing you liked them too. He’s the creator of Electro-Man.”
It took me a moment to put that family tree together. “On your mom’s side? Your world-killer grandma’s husband? She’s married?” I squawked.
Curly eyelashes fell over incredible purple eyes. “Gracie…”
What?
His face was…
Oh boy, I wasn’t going to like whatever he was about to say.
“My grandmother has unimaginable power, but she didn’t… reproduce… asexually,” he deadpanned, eyes wide, that fucking smirk on his mouth. “Do I need to explain the birds and the bees?”
“You know what, Alex?” I asked him sarcastically before shaking my head. “How can someone handle who she is? What she is? I feel like I’ve walked through Chernobyl when I’m with her, even when she says she won’t make me feel sick. I swear I had this scar on my hand and it wasn’t there the next day.”
He didn’t look surprised. “They’ve been together seventy-eight years.”
How? And how old was she? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I was going to process that later. It was going to take some time.
He switched back to the other bomb he’d dropped on me. “It was my grandmother’s idea, but he was the artist. It’s a family secret. He was glad when I told him I wanted to do that instead of going to law school.”