Barbara took one look at my wincing form and gave me a look that screamed she didn't believe my false bravado for a single moment.
"Right… still sorry about throwing you around like a ragdoll," she apologized with nervous laughter, her arms moving to clutch her sides, clearly uncomfortable with the situation we found ourselves in, despite my earlier attempt to bring some levity to it.
"Seriously, don't worry about it. I've seen all the medals you've earned over the years, and muscle memory is something you can't fight," I said softly, a gentle smile on my face as I tried to ignore the pain spiking in my back.
I must have failed pretty hard at that, as she frowned with worry while examining me. Her eyes locked with mine, despite her earlier attempt to avoid them. I could see her worries fade as she gazed into them, but that faded as she regained control of herself.
Her gaze was nervous, embarrassed, and felt moments from wrenching away from mine, but above all, there was genuine concern that had me wincing.
Just not in pain this time.
I knew she was a good person, someone this city honestly didn't deserve, but that genuine care still caught me off guard. It made me feel terrible, like I really was the piece of trash the rich snobs thought I was. They were right in a way, weren't they? I was a street rat who, moments ago, was contemplating enslavement and murder to claw my way out of poverty.
How was I any different from the filth of this city? Just because I held power didn't mean my actions were above scrutiny. I knew I was trashy, but I never felt just how low I was until I saw those green eyes flicker with emotions I'd never seen before.
This time, I was the one who tore my gaze away. Weaving sweet words and lovely songs for her was easy; facing genuine care from a person I was manipulating was not.
"Look, I really am sorry. I normally have better control than that, but I'd been on edge all day, and when we crashed into each other, I panicked," she said sullenly, her tone making me feel even lower.
There were unspoken words there that the reason she was on edge was because someone had decided today was a great day to confess to her in a grand, public way. I knew she wasn't really blaming me; she wasn't the kind of person to throw words like that, but her being on edge was my fault.
"Right, sorry about all of that. I should've thought things through better, but I needed to say something," I said lowly, a small grimace on my face. I wasn't handling this sudden introspection well.
Being near someone like her was unraveling the threads that made me who I was. It was uncomfortable in the worst way, it would be far easier to just use her and forget this complicated mess.
Barbara stood in front of me, her head tilted. Her gaze was bright, looking at me like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit but one she couldn't stop thinking about. After examining me for a moment, she let out a soft smile.
"You don't need to apologize for that," she said, her voice a little snarky but soft, ensuring I knew she wasn't really bothered by what happened.
"The whole thing was… really unexpected, but it wasn't terrible," she admitted with a teasing smile. "Although that doesn't mean I'm anywhere close to accepting, Moore. I still don't know a thing about you," Barbara continued, that same smile on her face.
She tensed as some students passed by on their way to the lunch hall. The pair stopped and stared at us for a moment, whispering to each other. Barbara made a point of not looking at them, but I shot them a sharp glance, causing the duo to move on. They looked like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
"We're going to have plenty of time to get to know each other, Barbara," I said, slightly distracted as my gaze followed the duo. Hearing my words, Barbara let out a snort and threw a mock glare at me.
"Where was Mr. Sensible in the courtyard? I may not have minded it too much, Moore, but the whole big, showy confession was not something Mr. Sensible would have done," she snarked, more open and comfortable now that she wasn't dealing with an audience.
"Mr. Sensible had been nervously trying to figure out how to approach you for weeks, so his sensibilities left the building," I snarked back with a small grin.
The conversation was light in a way that lifted my mood. There were no worries on my mind, no heavy weights on my shoulders, no twisted envy burning in my gut, just a soft smile and softer words.
I let myself slip into contentment for a moment but winced as losing myself in her rhythm didn't feel fair. I liked the concept of Barbara Gordon, and I was beginning to like the girl herself, but my reasons for liking her were dirty, a far cry from the genuine emotions she was showing me.
"Hey, you sure you're okay?" she asked with concern, catching sight of my wince, likely thinking it was due to my injury rather than the emotional turmoil she was stirring in me.
"If you're really hurt, you've got to tell me. The last thing I want to hear around school is that I hospitalize guys who confess to me, even if my dad would love a rumor like that," she snarked, chuckling awkwardly. She was joking, but the concern in her eyes showed how much she cared about my state.
I let out a chuckle of my own. Looking back at her with a smile, I stretched to show I was fine. I still felt an ache in my back, but it was bearable now and fading.
"I dunno, a rumor like that might be for the best. If people think you're hospitalizing guys who flirt with you, they might stop trying. Less competition that way," I said with a grin and a lightness that I was trying my best to feel.
Barbara let out a snort and rolled her eyes, a mock pout on her face as she tried to fight off her amusement.
"Oh no, my reputation is ruined. I guess I'll just live as a spinster for the rest of my life and raise twelve cats. God knows that's what my dad is hoping for," she said dryly, her tone completely monotone and unserious. My lips twitched at her rebuttal.
"If only there was a dashing young man who confessed to you hours ago?" I grinned, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She gave me a flat stare.
"I know, right? All I got was a skinny dork confessing to me. Where's my prince charming?" she asked in the same flat tone. I let out a snort, and that broke her control as she laughed too.
"Well, I guess you'll just have to start your cat lady lifestyle. Make sure to broadcast that to the rest of the school, too, just to ensure no one gets any ideas about sweeping you off your feet," I said seriously, though the twitching of my lips gave me away. She rolled her eyes again.
"You'd like that, my dating prospects going even lower," she snarked, but I nodded along seriously.
"I really would. I know for a fact that if you wanted, you'd have to beat boys off with a stick if you said you were looking to date," I said sincerely, a small smile on my face.
"Yeah, yeah," she replied, not taking my words seriously for a moment. I paused, about to snark some more, but opted for a more genuine tone.
"You really are something, Barbara. You've got a smile so bright it feels like dawn in a city that never sees the sun, a wit so sharp you could wield it as a weapon, and a genuine human kindness I doubt I'll ever see again. You're not just one in a million, you're the kind of girl stories and songs are written about," I said, listing all the things that drew my eye, all the qualities that stirred my gut.
The words were manipulative, sweet nonsense whose only use was to bring us closer, but if I was going to sell her a dream, I hoped a part of it could be real.
My 'love' might not be entirely genuine, but I truly felt Barbara was something this world needed more of.
Someone I wanted nothing more than to clutch onto even knowing that she was better off without someone like me in her life.
Barbara stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood. She'd been in her groove with snark and jokes dancing between us, but this moment of genuine compliments had her head spinning.
"Wow, uh…" She chuckled nervously, her gaze refusing to meet mine again. The easy banter slipped away as she remembered who she was talking to.
"You really don't hold back, do you, Moore?" Her voice carried that familiar snarky edge, but it was softer now, almost hesitant.
"Life's too short to hold back, Barbara. Say what you mean and make sure you mean it," I said seriously, not a drop of doubt in my voice.
She looked at me as if measuring my words, but her gaze wavered as embarrassment and shyness built in the usually confident girl. She straightened, placing her hands on her hips in a confident stance she didn't fully feel.
"You're laying it on pretty thick there, poet laureate," she said, tilting her head with a teasing smirk. The snark was the same, but a creeping blush threatened to overtake her face.
"Look, I get it, you're all about the big declarations, but you can't just say stuff like that and expect me to swoon or something," she added, waving a hand dismissively, though the gesture was less confident than intended.
"I don't expect a thing from you right now, Barbara. I want things, a future where I can smile at you without the city's worries weighing me down, but that's the future. Right now, I'm just trying to stay on your mind, so if you ever feel like romance one day, you don't forget the kid who was willing to shout his feelings from the rooftops," I said softly.
Her gaze seemed to swim as she tried to get a handle on the situation, but she wasn't having much success.
"Seriously, can you cool it, Moore? The courtyard was already embarrassing enough. I don't need you up on the rooftops screaming you like me," she snarked, but the bite was missing from her tone.
I let out a soft chuckle. "I promise, no screaming from the rooftops. I won't stop with the sweet words, as I can see you like them even if you deny it, but they'll be reserved for when it's just you and me," I said seriously, a grin on my face.
"You're impossible, you know that?" she said, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and amusement.
"When did my life become a rom-com with a guy throwing corny words at me like they're going out of style?" Barbara sighed, but the blush on her face hadn't faded for an instant.
She might deny it, but I was sure a part of her liked the attention I was showering her with.
"Would that really be so bad, Barbara? I think the genre of our story needed a shift a long time ago. I'm tired of the gritty hopelessness this city seems to bleed," I said, my grin not quite reaching my eyes due to the seriousness of the topic.
"No, it really wouldn't be so bad," she admitted, her gaze searching mine and finding the genuine, worn, and torn emotions beneath.
"But I don't trust this, Moore. You say all these things, but you don't know me, not really. You have an idea in your head about who I am, and it's certainly flattering, but this is the longest conversation we've ever had, and it's been nothing but jokes and compliments," Barbara said, her gaze revealing all the worries she held.
She might be kinder than anyone else in this city, but she was smart. She knew good things didn't just show up at your door, that everyone had a motive, and she was searching for mine.
"I know I don't know you, Barbara, but I want to," I admitted softly. Even without the system, I'd want to know someone like her; I just never would've had the guts to approach her.
That was a truth I could hold onto.
She looked at me with hesitation, biting her lip before settling on a soft gaze, seemingly deciding something.
"You say you want to get to know me? Prove it. No more grand gestures, no more roses, no rooftop shouting. Just… talk to me. Like a normal person. Think you can handle that, poet laureate?" she asked with some snark, but there was vulnerability in her gaze. She was giving me a shot, and my breath hitched at the thought.
I had a lot of bravado, but I never thought it'd be so easy to get along with her. I didn't need wealth or power; I could've talked to her ages ago. Barbara didn't know me as some superhero or a person with wealth beyond the norm, but she was willing to give me a chance. That thought made my heart swell, a beat thrumming that left me feeling too light, but I tore my gaze away from hers.
Guilt built in my head over my motives, a certain pen burning in my pocket.
"I'd love to, Barbara," I said softly, but with a slight bitterness. She perked up at first but gave me a confused look as she caught the bitterness.
I looked at her, my gaze locking onto hers. That speck of vulnerability made me sullen and sour, but I was running on a timer and couldn't afford that talk right now.
"Can we reschedule that talk? I'm a bit busy right now," I said with a bitter smile.
Barbara deflated slightly, the vulnerability in her gaze fading as she put her walls back up. A teasing smile returned, but it felt more cutting now.
"Sure, Moore, I've got to get going anyway. Practice to get to," she said confidently, giving me a cheery smile as she started to walk away.
I almost reached out to stop her, to say we could have that talk now, that I meant everything I said, that I wanted to know every piece of Barbara Gordon. But the device in my pocket kept me rooted in place.
The timer ticking on my future was counting down and I could not afford to delay because I wanted to talk to a girl. Shame and guilt welled up in me but I gritted my teeth and strode away.
What did it matter if Barbara liked me? She was just a target. Someone I needed to confess to over and over again, her feelings were never a part of this equation.
Those words really were starting to irritate me. They have been ringing in my head all day, and I hate how I'm starting to doubt them.