The Redhead, and The Dreamer.

That night, I wasn’t like the other girls. I didn’t parade past, waiting for the melody he was playing on his guitar to change, or any kind of musical note to slip through his lips. I walked right up to him and sat down beside him on the log he was sitting on a ways away from the main part of the party. Tonight I didn’t care about getting my face out there and being seen. I really was just there to see him, but either way, he looked at me like I’d slapped him in the face as I sat down.

“Am I still not good enough for you to play me a song, Batman?” I asked him, trying to sound as casual as possible. I hadn’t had anything to drink. I knew I’d need my head to have a stable conversation with him, so I refused all the drink offers and cups I’d gotten on my walk over to him.

“Batman?” he repeated. There was that crooked smile again. I melted a little bit on the inside and smiled back.

“Well, you’ve got to be some kind of superhero if you moved around here on purpose after escaping, either that or stupid.”

“Nah,” he said. He went back to plucking the same melody he’d been playing as I’d walked over to him. It wasn’t a song for me. It was a song for everyone. “I’m no superhero, so I suppose I’ve got to be stupid then.”

“You’re not the only one, Batman.” I smiled again. “I think I just totally found a decent nickname for you there. It’s so much more exciting than Ethan.”

He looked at me funny for a few seconds, never missing a strum on his guitar and smiled at me again. “If you can call me Batman, I can call you Skylar.” He said.

I shrugged. “Okay.”