“He was trying to help you!” I barked, disgusted by everything happening.

She looked at me with her bloodshot eyes and rolled them so hard I was surprised her vision wasn’t impaired from the dramatics of it.

“Shut up, will you? Come on, Ronnie. Let’s go,” Wonder Woman said, taking Thor’s hand into hers. He wrapped an arm around the woman and kissed her temple as if they weren’t in an insanely toxic relationship. I swore they even had a bit of bounce in their step as they walked away.

Halloween is weird.

I wished Mario were there to witness all of it with me. I wondered how he would’ve handled the situation. I bet he would’ve stepped in to help. I bet he would’ve been his own kind of superhero. I bet—

Wait, no. Screw him.

Why was I thinking about my ex-boyfriend Mario at that very moment? Was I drunk? No, just sad. Funny how my sad and drunk thoughts sometimes were interchangeable.

“Shit,” Captain groaned, rubbing the side of his head. America’s sweetheart had really taken a beating. He started walking back toward the bar entrance, and I did something completely out of character for me—I inserted myself into someone else’s world for the second time in the span of a minute.

“Hey, you dropped this,” I called out, bending down to the ground where he’d dropped his cell phone and shield. I picked up his items and walked over to him as he kept massaging his jawline. It was a nice jawline, too, the kind you’d imagine Captain America would have: chiseled to a godly point of perfection.

He turned to me, and my breath caught in my throat. He was beautiful. I knew men probably didn’t want to be considered beautiful, but that was the only way I could describe him. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen in my life, almost as if the ocean had decided to reside right inside his spirit. His lips were full with a small Cupid’s bow, and his facial hair was groomed to a T. Unfortunately, his left eye was already swelling from the punch, but that did nothing to take away from his good looks. If he wasn’t a superhero, I was almost certain he could land a Calvin Klein ad.

“I must look like I feel.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he took his items from me.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The way you’re looking at me makes it clear that I look like I got my ass kicked, which is…well, accurate. Did you see that?”

“Every second.” I wrapped my arms around my body and tried to ignore the slight chill that hit me. I needed to head inside before I got too cold. “For the record, Thor was a dick, and what you did was noble.”

He held his arms out and smirked. “Comes with the suit.” His smile disappeared for a moment as he lightly touched around his eye. “Though, in my mind, that situation was going to end differently.”

“Let me guess: in your mind, the woman was thankful for you saving her from an abusive man?”

“Yeah, something along those lines.”

I arched an eyebrow. “You aren’t from around these parts, are you?”

He laughed. “Does the accent give it away?”

“No, the fact that you tried to help in that situation did. Most New Yorkers keep their heads down and stay in their own lane.”

“I never was any good at that staying in my own lane thing. Plus, my mama would kill me if she knew I saw something as shitty as that and kept walking.”

I didn’t know why, but I liked the way he said mama. He really was a Southern boy.

“Well, I’m sorry that moment didn’t turn out like the fairy tales.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “Maybe next time it will.” His smile somehow seemed to make his eyes brighter than before. He brushed his thumb against his nose and nodded in my direction. “Thanks, Red.”

“Red?”

He gestured toward me. I glanced down at myself and rolled my eyes at my slowness. Right—Red, as in Little Red Riding Hood.

“Oh, right. Thanks to you, Cap, doer of good.” Doer of good? Could you sound any more lame, Aaliyah?

He kept smiling as his eyes traveled up and down my body, not in an invasive way, but as if he was simply taking note of me overall. It happened quickly, and I didn’t feel an ounce of disrespect, because my eyes had done the same thing to him.

Then his blues locked with my browns. “You think I can buy you a drink?” he asked, bruised eye and all. The amount of confidence it took for him to offer me a drink after I watched him get his butt kicked was inspiring. If it were the other way around, I’d be on the subway, licking my wounds and avoiding human interaction for the remainder of my life. Perhaps that was how my villain origin story would’ve begun—beaten up by Wonder Woman and Thor outside a New York bar.