Super Avenged

“Jimmy, I—” I emerged out of the kitchen in time for something small, sharp, and square to slam into my shin with surprising velocity. I cried out more in surprise than pain and looked down to see a small, square piece of metal lying next to my foot. Slowly, I raised my head to look across the living room at Jimmy, shock etched into my features. In one hand he held his belt; in the other, he held the dainty square belt buckle that contained the button that, when pushed, would set off an alarm in the residence of Super Avenged.

“I am so sorry, Miya!” Jimmy exclaimed hastily, hurrying over to me. He picked up the square piece of metal before looking innocently at me. “Will you ever forgive me?”

“Consider it done,” I answered, leaning down to rub my shin where it had begun to throb slightly. “But what was that, anyway?”

“Um...” Jimmy replied, looking with obvious confusion at the items in his hands. “I took this belt buckle off of the belt,” he held up the belt buckle in his hand, “and the cover popped off, flew across the room, and hit you right as you stepped out.” I noticed that the belt buckle was, indeed, missing its cover.

“Why were you taking it off of the belt in the first place?” I asked.

“It started beeping at me!” Jimmy answered. Right as he finished, it began to beep again, sounding like a wheezing alarm clock.

“Ohhh,” I cooed, “even its beeper is broken.”

“Precisely! Which is why I must take it to Zacky, immediately,” Jimmy answered, attaching the cover once again to the belt buckle. He held it out at arm’s length like it was radioactive or something and walked over to deposit it on the coffee table.

As he straightened up, he turned back around to look at me.

“What were you saying?”

“When?”

“When you walked in.”

“Oh, I was just about to tell you that I couldn’t reach something and could you please get it for me?” I said, jabbing a thumb behind me into the doorway that led to the kitchen. Jimmy smirked before sauntering casually towards me.

“Are you...too short to reach it?” he asked smugly as he stepped up to me. I glowered up at him, where he stood a full foot taller than I did.

“Shut up, beanstalk,” I snapped, turning around and leading the way back into the kitchen. “Maybe I’m the average one, and you’re just freakishly tall.”

“Nope, we’re both extremes,” Jimmy answered, that smugness still evident in his tone. “You’re extremely short, and I’m extremely tall.”

“I am average-sized! Everyone’s extremely short to a giant like you!” I sputtered, turning back around to face him.

“How tall are you?”

“Five feet, four inches, and proud of it!”

“Yeah, you’re short. Five feet, five inches is average.”

“So, I’m an inch off! Deal with it!”

“I do deal with it. You’re my short, cuddly little kitten,” Jimmy cooed, patting my head. I continued to glower at him.

“What, do you want me to purr?”

“It would be nice, yes.”

Instead, I hissed, and Jimmy quickly whipped his hand away. We glowered at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Just get the pot, will you? It’s in the back of the cupboard,” I said, pointing towards a cabinet. Jimmy didn’t even bother to look at the cupboard. He just stretched out an arm, grabbed the pot, and pulled it out before handing it to me.

“And stop being a show-off,” I added before turning towards the stove.

“Right,” Jimmy agreed with an incredulous laugh before retreating back into the living room.

((*****))

“Should I call a cab?” Jimmy asked the next day. He stepped into the bathroom where I was fixing my hair and rested a hand on my waist, meeting my eyes in the mirror. We were getting ready to go to his old house, where the rest of the guys still lived. He had to take that broken belt buckle to Zacky, because he might need it later on.

“No,” I answered, shoving a bobby pin into my hair to hold down a stray wisp of chestnut hair. I ran a hand over my hair and shifted the little bun at the back of my head. I repositioned a strand from my bangs before turning to Jimmy.

“We can drive my car,” I finished. Jimmy blinked, obviously surprised that I actually had a car. “Yes, I have a car. I just don’t drive it very much when I have all these lovely cabbies to do it for me.”

“Is it a nice car?” Jimmy asked hopefully as I led the way out of the bathroom. I grabbed my purse from the bedroom and Jimmy scooped up the broken belt buckle from the end table.

“It’s actually a cute little sports car,” I answered as I linked my hand with Jimmy’s and walked out of the apartment. I made sure the door was locked before closing it behind me.

“What model of car is it?” Jimmy continued as we walked towards the door at the end of the hall that had a stairs sign on it.

“It’s a charcoal gray Corvette,” I explained as we clambered carefully down the stairs. The apartment building had an elevator, but I preferred to take the stairs, when it was obviously the healthier option. It had to be doubly healthy, since I lived on the tenth floor.

“Where do you store this car?” Jimmy said as we emerged into the lobby. I waved at the receptionist before stepping out into the mild early-August New York City air.

“There’s a garage around back of the apartment building,” I told him. I walked around the side of the apartment building, where there was a paved lane leading back behind the apartment building. The lane curved at the end, and there was the garage.

“I have to rent a space in the garage, though,” I explained as I pulled the door of the garage open. With a sound of metal rolling against metal, the garage door slid open to reveal my gorgeous little Corvette.

“We’ll definitely be riding in style,” Jimmy commented. He stepped forward and ran a hand along the hood of the car.

“That’s the only way I ride,” I informed him. Jimmy smirked across the car at me as we both climbed into it.

“I might have to shrink myself a bit to be truly comfortable, however,” he said, looking around the interior of the car.

“Go short people!” I cheered, pumping a fist in the air. Jimmy scowled over at me. I smiled innocently back before turning the car’s ignition and pulling out of the garage. I climbed back out, closed the garage door, climbed back in, and then drove out onto the clogged New York City street.