15 Robin is Rescued By Batman

July 19th

Norsemen University had a mascot called Varr the Viking. In the abandoned little courtyard behind Machsted Hall, there was a hyper-realistic statue of Varr, and the Nordic icon held his axe at a slight tilt, so the handle stuck out at an upward angle.

This was the protrusion over which Terri Bishop Co. had hooked the back of my Peter Pan leggings and then hurried off, leaving me to dangle.

They'd just left me.

I'd spent the last twenty minutes since they'd left trying to get down, twisting and grabbing, but the axe handle stuck out just far enough that there wasn't anything for me to grab. I kept expecting to fall, to collapse onto the ground—which was a good six feet away—but the fabric was holding up surprisingly well. I'd yelled for help, but it was late on a weekday. It had been almost half an hour and no one, not even campus security, appeared to have heard me or walked by.

And I was starting to lose feeling in my thighs.

Apparently I deserved this. At some point I'd pissed the universe so very off that it had created Terri Bishop to punish me. Though this time he hadn't even stuck around to laugh at my suffering. He'd just left.

This wasn'tlike high school all over again.

This was worse.

Tonight had started out like any basic bullying experience—they'd found me on my way home and Terri had made some jokes about my outfit, going all MythBusters about how far my leggings would stretch. But once he'd gotten me up here ...

Terri's little posse and their girlfriends had laughed and jeered, the sounds loud enough to echo down my spine. But Terri had only stared. Smiling, silent. And when one of the girls had tried to take a selfie with my legs, he'd said: "Don't be stupid, this never happened. Did it, Flinch?"

And they'd left.

It was almost like Terri wasn't using me to entertain and impress other people.

It was like hurting me was the point.

I whimpered softly and stared despondently at the ground so far below my pointed little shoes.

"Whoa, is someone there?"

I froze. Well, to be honest, the upper half of my body froze. Everything else dangled as uselessly as before.

"Over here!" I called, my voice breaking with enough pathos to serve the needs of every rescue dog in LA County.

"What— Oh my god." Whoever seemed to be addressing my situation rather than myself hadn't stepped into the vague circle of light shed by a nearby streetlamp. All I could make out from the silhouette was that the lifeform addressing me was a Dorito-shaped human. "Are you okay?"

"No, not really," I managed, stifling a moan as speech illogically caused my body weight to shift again, bringing forth pain from exciting new areas.

Mystery Man stepped into the light, handsome and clearly concerned. On second glance, handsome did not do him justice; gorgeous barely started to cover it.

His wavy black hair and the way it fell around his face reminded me of classical Greek statuary, but hotter. Much of him was hot: his large soulful eyes, strong yet cherubic features that when arranged into such a look of apprehension on one's behalf, would inevitably cause one's knees to react liquidly whether one had feeling in them or not. I could hear mine sloshing around somewhere below.

"What happened?" His voice was warm, sexy.

Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!

"Upbringing, mostly," I said hoarsely. "The translation of fear into hate on one side, and overcompensation for self-consciousness on the other. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Skyler Evans." He smiled at me a little thinly. "And you?"

"Robin Finch." I waited for the cringe of sympathy and answered it with an appreciative smile. "That's nothing, my middle name is Peregrine. Any chance you could help me down from here? I didn't exactly have a vasectomy planned for this evening ..."

"Oh, right! Sorry!" He moved forward immediately and held me by the waist, which would have been a lot more exciting if I'd actually been able to feel his hands. I'm a pretty small person, and I am aware of and resigned to this fact, but I still felt the display of effortlessness with which he lifted me up and off the Viking axe-handle that held me captive was bordering on tasteless.

Worst was that as blood rushed back to the rest of my body, the pins and needles stage set in with a vengeance, and I gripped his arms desperately. Those lovely large blue eyes gave me a questioning look as he continued to hold me aloft. "How long were you up there?"

"A while ..." My voice broke spectacularly as I waited for fifty percent of my body to return from the ethereal plains of Numb.

I heard a sympathetic hiss—my eyes were shut tight—and Skyler gently set my feet on the grass. He kept a hesitant hold on my waist, making sure I stayed upright.

"Who did this?"

"I'd say—" I coughed. "—two future lawyers and one future senator." Between the physical crisis my body was dealing with and my brain's attempts to comprehend that I had apparently been rescued by Batman, I was about to fall over. "You don't mind if I lean on you, do you?"

And with that, I plummeted headfirst against Skyler's chest.

He laughed, but anger rang under it. Oh, be still my moronic little heart.

"Of course not. How's your ..." And then he shut up, apparently realizing that gauging injury in these particular circumstances could lend itself to the Awkward.

It was my turn to laugh, though it was more of a squeak, like a guinea pig was dying somewhere in my throat. "Operational, I believe ... eventually, anyway." I levered myself up, allowing some weight to rest on my feet. I gave Skyler a resigned and apologetic grimace. "Thank you. I can honestly say I've rarely met a man of your restraint."

He raised his eyebrows adorably. "Restraint?"

"You've only laughed once."

He tried to smile, but there was obvious outrage pulsing behind his eyes.

I didn't quite manage to hold back a shudder. He must have felt it, because the outrage immediately subsided into concern as he gripped a little tighter, holding me steady. I could feel that now—his hands on my waist—because feeling was finally returning to my legs.

And, to be real, at this point all I could feel were his hands on my waist—no pain, no pins and needles, nothing but Skyler Evans's strong grip.

Ah Rob, yes, a perfect time to blush, you moron, bravo. And sweat, of course. Why don't you just swallow hard and look up at him with big, anxious puppy dog eyes?

Sweet Lord, you did it. You actually did it, you fruity little bastard!

Skyler's face softened slightly, making it obvious to the world that he was fond of kittens and considered me to be among their ranks.

"Can you walk at all?" he asked gently.

"I could probably limp, yes." I nodded.

He grimaced and moved one hand up under my shoulders. The other slid down behind my knees, and before I knew it, I was in the air again.

I couldn't help myself. I squeaked and wrapped my arms around his neck; he must have been trying to kill me.

"Warn a guy, would ya?"

Skyler smiled at me, soft curls falling over sad blue eyes and causing what felt like a temporary abdominal displacement.

"Sorry, I didn't think ... Where do you live?" He glanced at the deceased waistband hanging limply around my hips. "I could take you straight home."

I clutched at the fabric, holding it in place. I had to swallow twice before attempting to speak. "That ... is very ... very kind of you. I'm in Fisher Hall." I gave a weak laugh. "I'm not used to kindness from masculine strangers."

He started walking toward my dorm, shaking his head. "Because of the theater thing?"

I blinked up at him. "H-how did you know I do theater?"

This time it was a real smile, and I was almost blinded. "Are you telling me you walk around campus dressed as Robin Hood for no reason? No judgment, just wondering."

I smiled back, and I never had managed to stop blushing. "Heh, I'm actually Peter Pan. And yes, it's for theater. I was wearing it home to do some alterations." To shorten the leggings, ironically.

Skyler shook his head and shrugged, inadvertently bouncing me. "I still don't know why people would do this."

I wanted to Aww and run my hand through his hair. And people said I was naive. I also had to fight the urge to snuggle up against his chest and close my eyes, a tiny thespian in distress breathing in the imaginary scent of leather padding beneath Skyler's shiny armor.

In reality, he smelled like rosemary-and-mint soap, which was better. The scent suffused my body with warmth and a lightness that didn't seem real—this couldn't be real, could it? Terri must have finally killed me. I was dead. Dead and happy. I was falling so hard they'd probably end up naming a crater after me.

"Are you going to report this to campus police?"

"Huh?" In the warm, pink, fantasy dream-state brought on by Skyler, I'd actually forgotten about Skyler. "Oh. I ... I don't know. Maybe."

"I don't want to tell you what to do," said the beautiful man carrying me across the nighttime campus, "but I really think you should. I can go with you, if you want."

So much fluttering was happening inside of me I was in danger of floating away. "How about you let me buy you a cup of coffee instead?"

He looked surprised. "Right now?"

I shook my head and forced the words out before I lost my nerve or passed out from how very a lot this all was. "No, um, later. Friday?"

He gave a bemused smile, glancing at me, then back at the path in front of us. I was a little devastated that we'd already arrived at the front steps of Fisher Hall and he was going to put me down any minute now. Sure enough— "Yeah, I'd love to. Can you stand?"

It took me a moment to understand that he wasn't just evicting me from the safety of his arms, he'd also said yes! That he'd love to!

Once he'd carefully set me on my feet, two things became very clear: one, there was nearly a foot of height difference between us, and two, I'd been a bit cavalier about standing.

I leaned back against the front door, using one hand to keep myself decent, and the other to fish for my phone and keycard, easing my legs back into the role of holding my weight. Skyler was watching me in concern.

"You okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm feeling better. Yeah—yup, much better." I needed to stop talking. "Not better than when you carried me, because obviously that was, well, nice ... I just didn't mean that I preferred it when you— I guess I just wanted to say thanks."

He smiled, then pulled out his phone. "Wanna give me your number?"

Right. Because he'd said yes, he'd love to. Whose life even was this? I rattled off my number, my voice rising in pitch by the digit, and then watched as my phone screen lit up with a text that said, somewhat adorably: hi it's me Skyler.

I held it up to show him I'd received it and then, riding the cresting wave of panic inside me, I said, "So, um. See you Friday. I'll text you. Bye, thanks again for saving me." I fumbled with the key card and darted into the building, up to my room, and into my bed, where I could curl up and gently scream into my pillow.

Maybe I hadn't pissed the universe off quite as much as I'd thought.