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Despite the potential impending doom heading our way and the fact that he barely even knows me, Evan reaches for my hand. And despite my tenacious desire to fight my battles alone, I let him take it.

“I think we’re done,” Evan says with an exhausted sigh. I watch the last digital bar on the wall screen turn from red to green, signaling the completion of the research building’s extensive lockdown procedure.

It turns out the building isn’t made of concrete as it looked from the outside. It’s actually a one-way glass where you can’t see in, but no matter where you are inside the building, (including the bathroom), you can see out into the vast ocean surrounding the place. It’s awesome. Everything about Research is awesome.

I follow Evan from the lobby of the building on the first floor up to the living quarters in the penthouse. Well, he calls it the penthouse at least, with a stupid little flourish of his hand. But if I know Research scientist nerds, it’s probably more like a university dorm room up there. We step into a glass elevator in the center of the first floor lobby and Evan presses the button for the top floor. We ascend slowly, which is so not normal to the Super world, but it’s probably a feature that allows Evan to check on all his projects as he rides up the elevator. It takes everything I can do not to press my grubby fingers and forehead to the glass and coo over my surroundings like a five-year-old.

There are computers, glass vials, and big metal objects that could be torture chambers but probably aren’t. There are glass wall screens that spend all day computing some sort of equation, or various forms of it, or maybe nothing at all like that—I have no idea what I’m looking at. Everything is shiny, clean, and beautiful.

We step off the elevator and into a kitchen. Although it’s not like any kitchen I’ve ever seen. The technology here makes the high-tech gizmos at Central look like antiques. So much for my dorm room analogy.

“Why don’t we have any of this stuff?” I ask, running my fingers over the kitchen countertop, which is basically a plasma screen running a program that looks like an aquarium. The realistic-looking digital flounder beneath my finger scurries away, swishing its tail quickly as if I had actually touched it.

Evan opens a silver refrigerator door and grabs two Gatorades from a shelf that is all Gatorade, all lemon-lime flavor. He takes a seat across from me at the bar/faux aquarium and slides me a Gatorade. The fake water ripples as the bottle moves across the smooth surface.

I crack open the lid and take a sip. “Why are they all lemon lime?”

The intensity of his stare could border on rude. “That’s the best flavor.”

He drinks, and I drink again, and this goes on for a while. Him sitting there staring at me, drinking his best flavor of Gatorade and me returning the stare, drinking mine and thinking that orange is actually the best flavor of Gatorade. But now isn’t the time to bring that up.

Eventually the bottles are empty and the fish find them fascinating on the countertop, and I can’t keep up the staring thing any longer. I glance down at my hands. “So, what happens now?”

“Hell if I know.” Evan inhales a deep breath and slowly lets it out. “We haven’t been alive during any other lockdowns.” I don’t look up for his reply. Instead, I stare at the chips in my nail polish. My subconscious nags me in the back of my mind. Nail polish is the last thing that should concern me. But I
want
to think about nail polish. It’s easy to think about nail polish.

The nag grows stronger as I stare at my cuticles. The question on my mind blurts out of me, causing the room to echo with my sudden outburst of sound. “Why aren’t you asking more questions? Don’t you want to know more details?”

Evan’s elbows rest on the counter as he peels at the label on his bottle. His eyes fill with apprehension. With deliberate slowness, he says, “I’m not sure what to ask. Of course I want to know. But I’m not asking because I don’t want to see that look on your face again.”

“What look?”

He sweeps golden hair from his eyes, pushing it behind his ears. His attention focuses back on the plastic wrapper. “The look you had when you said Pepper was dead.”

He watches me in silence and for a moment I think I might tell him, in detail, everything that’s haunting me. But I can’t relive Pepper’s death. I can’t tell Evan that the murdering psychopath Aurora is looking for me.

I drop my forehead into my hands and wriggle my fingers through my hair. “I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.”

“That’s good news.” Evan’s hand touches my arm. Goosebumps prickle my skin. “If you only feel like it, then you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“You’re not funny.”

He smiles. “I know what will take your mind off the lockdown.”

“A lobotomy?”

“That would take your mind off everything.” He crosses the room, motioning for me to follow. He pulls open the top drawer of a dresser near his bed and grabs for something with his back to me, and then swirls around with a flourish of his hand, revealing a silver box tied closed with a purple bow. “Your birthday present.”

I hold out my hand and he drops the box in my palm. “You didn’t have to buy me a present.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t get to give it to you at your party. And I didn’t buy it. I made it.”

“Oh?”

His crooked smile makes me smile. He’s right. My mind is officially off the topic of the lockdown. I untie the ribbon and lift the lid—but his hand is on top of mine with supernatural speed, holding it closed.

“I have a disclaimer.” He gnaws on his bottom lip as I stare at the black hair tie on his wrist. “Before you open it, you need to know that it’s totally not practical and actually, it kind of sucks.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You’re giving me a sucky present?”

“It is absolutely sucky, but it was my first invention.” The way he lingers on the word
first
makes me feel like he’s a part of an inside joke I don’t know about. “You remember, right?”

I shake my head.

“You don’t? Really? You have to remember.” He stumbles over his words, dragging a hand through his hair while shaking his head. With a shrug, he takes his hand off the box.

With the box free, I pull it to my chest. “Guess I only remember important things,” I say with a smirk, wrapping my fingers around the lid.

“You know, I’ve heard stories about your selfishness.” His words catch me off guard. I drop my gaze from the silver box and look at him, eyebrows raised. His eyes squint in a mock glare. “But this is the first I’ve seen of it.”

“I’m not selfish. Who told you that?”

He closes an invisible zipper on his mouth. “Doesn’t matter. I’m crushed though, truly.” He clenches his chest and I roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you don’t remember.”

I cross my arms, also in mock annoyance. At least, I think we’re just messing with each other. Friendly sarcasm and all that. “I can’t imagine why I’d bother remembering someone who quit Hero training.”

“Ouch.”

“Why did you quit?”

“That’s a story for another day.” He nudges the box. “Just open your stupid present.”

“With pleasure,” I say with exaggerated chivalry. I pull the lid off the box. Two silver rings rest on a pillow of foam. The metal bands are crudely hammered and polished. A glass disk rests in the center of each ring, etched with the King City crown logo. “I … er,” I say, slipping one of them on my index finger. “Thank you. Why are there two?”

“Let me explain.” He takes the other ring and slips it on his finger. “It’s a communication device. I can’t believe you don’t remember this. You made me promise to invent you something.”

“Seriously?” I don’t remember much of Evan except that he was the thin kid in Hero training who always had his nose in a book and typically ate lunch alone. I’m sure I talked to him at some point but I don’t exactly have a habit of asking nerdy guys to invent things for me.

He scratches the back of his neck. It’s not hard to see that he’s hiding disappointment. “My last day of Hero training. You said something to me, remember?”

I shake my head. “I was twelve. Why would I?”

His smile falters. “Never mind. Basically you called me a loser for dropping out of Hero training and said I better invent something to help the real Heroes do their job.”

I snort. “That was rude of me, I’m sorry.”

He ignores my apology, focusing on the ring on his index finger. “So this is the first thing I invented. It was supposed to be for Heroes, but it’s incredibly flawed and useless in the real world. Anyhow, I want you to have it. You inspired it.”

“So what does it do?” I twist my hand in front of my face, captivated by the shiny glass surface on my finger.

“You’re wearing it wrong, for starters.” He takes my hand and twists the ring upside down. “The diamond has to press against your skin.”

“This is a
diamond
?” I freak. A diamond that’s bigger than my thumbnail. He laughs. “Yeah. Diamonds are the only material that will transfer thought vibrations into our veins.”

I don’t exactly hear what he says because I can’t stop staring at the gorgeous rock on my finger. The facets reflect every light in the room. The King City crown beams with pride under the diamond, multiplying several times in the facets as I twist my finger around. “The first time a guy gives me jewelry, and it’s a freaking diamond,” I murmur. I glance up at Evan and find him staring at me with a weird look on his face. “Shouldn’t you be on one knee?”

His cheeks flush a glorious and embarrassing red. “Diamond is the only material that would work. And it’s only a ring because of happenstance and—besides—”

“Happenstance? What kind of nerd says words like happenstance?”

Evan lets out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t catch a break from you.”

“Sorry. Please go on. Tell me about this sucky invention of yours.”

“Like I said.” He takes my hand again and flips the ring around. “It’s a communication device between you and the person wearing the matching ring, which is me in this case. The diamond needs to press against your skin like this.” He folds my fingers so that I’m making a fist. “It doesn’t have to be your palm. You could press the diamond to your chest or your arm or whatever. The palm is convenient for this demonstration.”

He flips his ring inward and wriggles his eyebrows. “You ready?”

I roll my eyes. “Ready.”

He closes his fingers.
Hello there, Maci.

“What the shit?” I gasp, taking several steps back until I crash into a column. Evan gives me a coy smile.
It’s a communication device. Try it.

“How are you doing this? You’re in my head.”

Evan sighs. Again, his lips don’t move but I hear his voice in my mind.
I’m talking to you through my powers. Concentrate on the vibrations in your chest and tell me something.

“I—” I say, before snapping my mouth shut. I take a breath and close my eyes, focusing on the central power source just behind my ribcage.
I can’t believe this is happening. Can you hear me?

He crosses his arms over his chest, a smug smile filling his gorgeous face.
Loud and clear.

You invented a mind reader. This is insane, Evan. You’ll be famous.

“It’s not a mind reader,” he says aloud. “I can only hear what you choose to tell me. And I won’t be famous because I’m not making any more of them. They’re incredibly flawed.”

“How so?”

“The idea was to create a way for Heroes to communicate with each other during an attack, so that information can be transmitted without the villain hearing a word. However, there’s no way to make the rings exclusive to each other. If every Hero had a ring they would all hear everyone’s thoughts at once—it would quickly become a cluttered mess in everyone’s mind. So, anyhow …” He takes off his ring and holds it out to me. “I’m fulfilling my promise to invent you something. They’re the only two in the world, so whomever you give it to will always be just a thought away.”

I push his hand back. “Keep it. It’s your invention. You should keep the other half. We can be pen pals. Er, thought pals.”

He puts it back on his finger.
Thank you.

I squeeze my fingers tightly around my ring.
Best birthday present ever.