My Sort-of, Kind-of Hero (18 page)

The fight can definitely wait until tomorrow.

Chapter Seventeen

My feet are
killing
me and things aren’t going very well.

Not with Travis and me; that’s going great. It’s been seven weeks since we started dating, but it feels like much longer than that− in a good way. I totally underestimated the benefits of dating your best friend. We completely skipped over that awkward “get to know you stage” because we already know everything. He knows when I am about to get into one of my neurotic questioning everything episodes, and I’ve already introduced him to Harry Potter.

I’m really happy. Like
really
happy. Travis is so attentive; he calls me every day; he stops by my work to drop off a hot chocolate when he’s in the neighbourhood.

He’s perfect. Everything is perfect.

A little
too
perfect.

Which is why I now have blisters on the back of my heels, and just want to sit on the nearest curb and not get up until dinner time− all because Mr. Perfect is nowhere to be found.

First I went to his apartment, ate his last bagel, and remembered that it’s ten o’clock in the morning on a Monday so it might not have been the best place to find him.

Then I went to his office, but his secretary told me he was on the job site at the complete opposite end of the city. A twenty dollar cab ride later, since Lloyd didn’t feel like getting up this morning, and I am walking around the job site with a hard hat that was forced on my head by the security guard. After narrowly avoiding running into Sara at the end of the hall I finally find Justin on the thirtieth floor. I should mention the thirtieth floor has no windows yet, which is making me extremely nervous.

“He’s not here,” Justin says as I peel his arm from around my shoulder.

“I can see that,” I say, and try to curb my annoyance for a minute. “Do you know where he went?”

“He goes to Gerrard and University on Mondays,” he says, looking down at his watch. “He didn’t leave too long ago so he won’t be back for at least an hour or so.”

“Gerrard and University?” I say, frowning. “For what?”

Justin shrugs. “Have no clue.”

“Then how do you know?” I ask.

“Dropped him off once,” he says.

“And you didn’t ask what he was doing?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.

“I didn’t really care,” he says.

“So, Travis goes there
every
Monday and it doesn’t make you at all intrigued as to what he’s doing there?” I ask incredulously.

He just shrugs like it never even occurred to him.

Men are so different from women. If Jill asked me to drop her off somewhere I would have definitely quizzed her on what she was doing there. And if she didn’t tell me, it would have eaten away at me for the rest of my life until I figured it out.

Which is kind of what I feel like now.

“Well, did he go in a building?” I ask.

I’m not even sure if I’m more concerned about my problem, or if I’m more concerned about what Travis is doing every Monday at eleven.

Okay, it’s definitely the Travis mystery.

“I just dropped him off at the corner,” Justin says. “What’s the big rush to find him anyways? Maybe it’s something I can do for you.”

The way he says that gives me the creeps.

“That’s okay, I’ll find him.”

“Is eight good tonight to pick you up?” he asks.

“In your dreams,” I shoot over my shoulder as I walk back to the elevator.

After I finish warding off Justin’s advances and give my hard hat back to the security guard I make my way to Gerrard and University. I decide to walk, mainly because there isn’t a cab in sight, but I didn’t anticipate that it was sixteen blocks away. Forty-five minutes later I’m walking up University, sweating, panting from speed walking, and developing huge blisters on my heels.

I get to the corner and look around and then realise that I have no idea where Travis is or what building he’s in. There are a million tiny offices in the buildings surrounding the children’s hospital on this corner, and I have no idea where to start. Or if Travis is even still here.

Maybe I should consider being less impulsive. If I had just waited at the job site for an hour I would have seen Travis when he came back.

But then I wouldn’t know what he is doing every Monday at eleven.

I turn my head, squinting at the different buildings, when something catches my eye on the sidewalk.

It’s him. It’s Travis. Except it’s not Travis.

I turn around and walk towards him. He’s also walking towards me but his head is down and he’s walking pretty quickly.

“Travis?” I ask, still skeptical of what I am seeing.

His head whips up, his eyes wide with shock.

And it is him. Standing right in front of me.

Dressed as Batman.

“Umm…” I say, putting my hands in my pockets. “Well, this is a little awkward.”

Travis looks like he is in complete and utter shock.

“Justin told me you would be somewhere around here,” I say in way of explanation.

Travis doesn’t move.

“So…” I say, pursing my lips. “Should I ask the obvious, or…”

Travis stands up a little straighter and his cape picks up the breeze, causing it to ripple at his back.

If this wasn’t the weirdest thing I have ever seen I think I would be dying of laughter right now. I probably will when we have dinner tonight, but right now we are both too startled.

“I− uhh− visit here on Mondays,” he says, pointing behind him.

I look over his shoulder and see the entrance to the SickKids Children’s Hospital.

“You visit the kids every Monday?” I ask. “Dressed as Batman?”

He shrugs, and I can’t help the tears that start forming in my eyes.

“They like it,” he says. “I didn’t have a great childhood and theirs is pretty crummy right now, so I wanted to do something to help.”

Now the tears spill over my lashes and Travis sighs.

“It’s kind of my self-made therapy,” he jokes.

I can’t laugh with him. My bottom lip is shaking too much in an attempt to stop myself from sobbing.

“Stop right there,” he says, holding up a finger. “I see exactly what you are doing.”

“What?” I say, and try to keep my voice even.

“You’re putting me up on that pedestal,” he says. “I’m not a hero. I just do one nice thing, once a week, for an hour.”

And he’s right. But the problem is, it is just the nicest, sweetest thing I have ever heard of, and I can’t stop crying.

“Please stop crying; this is why I didn’t tell you,” Travis says, and now I can see people on the sidewalk have stopped to take pictures of him with their cellphones.

“I can’t!” I blubber, my words coming out in a mess. “You’re perfect, we’re perfect. Everything is too perfect!”

And there I am, sobbing on the sidewalk with Batman’s arms wrapped around me while everyone takes pictures.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“My book is a disaster! I came here to tell you we need to argue so that I can finish it and I find you dressed up as a freaking super hero making sick children’s dreams come true,” I sob uncontrollably into his shoulder. “How can I argue with you
now
?”

I feel Travis’s chest vibrate with laughter. I pull back and wipe my nose with the back of my sleeve.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

“Why do we have to fight?” he asks.

“Because, that’s just the way things work in fiction! We like each other, we start dating, one of us has some insurmountable obstacle that doesn’t seem possible to overcome, somehow we
do
overcome it, and then bam− happily ever after,” I explain, swiping my eyes. “For some reason I can’t seem to write anything believable for this novel unless it
actually
happens, and my editor already gave me an extension but she needs the completed manuscript by Friday.”

Travis rubs my arm.

“This was my chance, and I just can’t do it. I don’t want us to argue, but we will never be that
great couple
if we don’t.”

Travis seems to give my words a lot of thought. “Well, how about we just be you and me instead.”

I open my mouth, ready to argue.

But that’s not the way it is supposed to work.

That’s not what my editor wants.

I can’t think clearly when you’re wearing that cape.

But you know what, it all sounds old to me. It sounds like a girl that I just want to shake and say− you’re
happy
.
Really happy
. And you’re complaining because things aren’t happening the way people who don’t even know you tell you is the way things are supposed to be? I don’t want to have a huge fight with Travis where one of us has to leave, because that’s not how we are going to solve our arguments.

“You’re right,” I say, nodding decisively.

Travis takes a stumble back and looks around. “Was anyone recording that? Can I get a copy?” he asks before smiling at me.

“Very funny. You know, it’s not too late for that fight,” I warn.

Travis lowers his face to kiss me and my heart is a flutter of nerves. His hand settles on my cheek as his lips take possession of mine.

I’m kissing Batman!

I mean, I know its Travis, but this kiss feels a little different. A little… dangerous.

“Oh my God!” I say, pulling back, my eyes alight. “I could come with you! I have that Catwoman costume.”

Travis’s eyes darken and he shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“How come?” I say.

“I don’t like the idea of those handsome, eligible doctors who save children’s lives all day seeing you in that outfit,” he says, though I see his lips twitching. “I already have enough competition.”

“But I finally figured out how to use the whip,” I pout.

“Also, it could cost me a fortune to repair the damage you would cause with that grappling hook,” he reasons.

“See, this is why I love you,” I say, laughing.

“Because I fix things?”

“No, because you’re always chasing me around, trying to protect me,” I say, putting my hand on his arm. “And not because you have to, but because you want to.”

“Well, you’d be lost without me,” he says, sighing.

“Alright, Casanova. Don’t let that head of yours get too big,” I say. “You are wearing spandex, after all.”

“So… You realise you just said you love me, right?” he says, and I can see he is trying to act calm about the joy that those few words give him.

“I know,” I shrug, trying to stay as casual as possible.

He soaks in the words, and I stand waiting.

“Well?” I prompt.

“Well, what?”

“Don’t you have something to say to me?” I ask, widening my eyes.

Travis thinks about it for a minute. “You hair has come out of its clip at the back.”

I smack him on the arm. “That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

“I know,” he smiles and it softens all the features of his face. I love when he smiles at me like that. “But if I said it now, you would just go home and overthink whether I just said it because you said it to me first.”

I open my mouth to argue, but then close it. Damn it, he’s right.

“And, I’m not going to just say it so you have a good scene for your book,” he says, eyeing me as though he knows exactly what is going through my head.

What is he, psychic?

“Can we at least have a great kiss?” I argue in exasperation.

“Well, it’s not raining,” he says, looking up at the clear sky. “And your hair is kind of all over the place.”

I put my hand up to my hair and know that he’s right. Those sixteen blocks didn’t do my bun any favours.

“Should we maybe back up a little and slowly walk towards each other so I can twirl you at the end?” he asks, the smile tugging at his lips.

Actually, that’s exactly what I want to do, but I obviously can’t suggest it now.

“Or maybe I could push my way through this large crowd, trying to get−”

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me,” I say, grabbing his face and pulling it to mine.

Epilogue

I walk into the coffee shop and scan the tables for Travis. I smile when I see him at the far table in the back, looking at his cellphone− probably reading about the hockey trades− with two drinks in front of him.

I wind my way through the tables and collapse on the chair in front of him.

“Remind me never to walk here again,” I say.

“Lloyd didn’t feel up to it?” he asks.

“Does he ever?” I say in exasperation.

“How did it go?” he asks, putting his phone away in his pocket.

I forget all about my poor feet and reach into my bag. I take out the package I received before I left the apartment and put it on the table.

“How was Lisa?” Travis asks as he starts to devour the cookie he bought with his coffee.

“Well, I had prepared myself for a lecture after our last few meetings,” I say. “But she was really nice to me. Which means that the publisher loved it.”

“That’s great,” he says.

It turns out Lisa and I aren’t meant to be best friends. When I went to her office two months ago and told her there wasn’t going to be a huge conflict in my novel, she wasn’t happy, to say the least. She didn’t yell, though I almost wish she had. Instead, she went icy and said, “Well, that’s disappointing”. I hate that word: disappointing. It seems pretty tame compared to other words, but it holds a lot of hidden meaning.

She agreed to read my manuscript anyways and she must have loved it because I got a call a few days later with the happy version of her, asking me to come in to chat.

And then the negotiations started. She wanted me to change something and I said no. I wanted to add something and she said no. In the end I introduced her to the veto system and everything ended up working out.

She sent my manuscript off to a few publishers; I anxiously waited a few weeks, which means I no longer have any nails left, and I got the call last week. Someone bought it!

And here it is. In my possession. The first book I didn’t have to beg someone to buy.

“Open it,” I say to Travis, pointing at the envelope.