Confidence is Key?

Bewildered, Luke examined the message on his phone once again. Early morning sunlight streamed through the window, painting a soft glow on his baffled countenance as his eyebrows knitted together. The nagging ache in his shoulder was momentarily overshadowed by the odd text from Gwen.

StarryEyedWanderer: When I bit you on that train, you tasted good 7:18 AM

"What on earth...?" he mumbled to himself, his brow wrinkling as he endeavored to decipher the cryptic message.

A peculiar idea flickered in his mind: Could this be some convoluted flirtation? Their encounter on the train had been jarringly bizarre. He'd thought they had both tacitly agreed to leave it unspoken. Yet here it was, blurted out.

And why on earth would she mention how he tasted? He raked through the memory, reliving the sharp surprise of her teeth sinking into his shoulder, the jolt of pain that was swiftly overshadowed by the shockingly... No, he wouldn't dwell on that. The whole incident was as abnormal as their meeting had been.

With a groan, he forced himself up from the bed, disregarding the piercing throb in his shoulder. He needed to distract himself from the uncanny thoughts that were consuming him.

His bare feet brushed against the cold floor as he roamed around his room, his hand ruffling his tousled hair. Pausing by the window, he watched the sun rise over the gradually awakening city. The promise of a new day lay ahead, yet all he could think about was his pending response to Gwen's message.

Ensnared in a whirlwind of confusion and curiosity, Luke was conflicted. Was Gwen genuinely trying to flirt, despite the trauma of the previous night? The idea intrigued him and amused him simultaneously. The scene of her biting him on the train was vivid in his memory, yet now she seemed to be reminiscing about it?

Was he merely a diversion for her? A temporary detour from the actions of his alter ego, Nightling, last night? He pushed such thoughts aside, not wanting to overthink. If Gwen, in spite of the chaos, was trying to flirt, maybe he should reciprocate?

However, his physical condition was less than ideal. His super-villain physique had hastened his healing, but it hadn't fully restored his strength. His shoulder ached constantly, a painful souvenir of their recent encounter.

As he began to craft his response, Luke inhaled deeply and expelled a quick breath, steeling himself for the unfamiliar journey ahead. A strange thrill coursed through him, a curious blend of exhilaration and nervous expectation, as his fingers started to tap on the screen.

Succumbing to an impulsive moment of madness, he drafted a cheeky reply:

TheLuke: "Don't think you should be trying to eat me... If you're that hungry, I could just take you out to buy food, idiot." 7:22 AM

He hit send before fully comprehending his words. A wave of self-consciousness crashed over him as he re-read his message, his heart plummeting with the realization of his audacious flirtation.

He'd actually suggested she shouldn't eat him? Had he really called her an idiot? What if her message was a playful joke and he'd just blown it out of proportion? Embarrassment surged within him, turning his previous thrill into a chill of dread.

"ARGHHHH," he roared, his frustration boiling over. His phone was flung from his hand, making a soft landing on his pillow, just as the throbbing pain in his shoulder redoubled. The sharp jolt sent a wave of excruciating pain coursing through his body.

As he battled against the overwhelming pain and his vision blurred with unshed tears, Luke found himself gasping for breath and falling down to the floor of his room. The dark, shadowy bandage around his shoulder began to unravel under the strain, causing him to grit his teeth and summon every ounce of his willpower to keep it intact.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot," he admonished himself, the throbbing pain in his shoulder serving as a temporary diversion from his embarrassing flirtation with Gwen. However, as the sharp pain subsided to a bearable level, his thoughts undeniably veered back to her.

What was he thinking, attempting to charm someone in his current state? If Gwen accepted his spontaneous dinner invite, would he even be able to hold himself together?

Despite his self-reproach, he couldn't help but entertain the fantasy. He envisioned a cool evening, Gwen neglecting to bring her jacket, and him chivalrously offering his own. The thought was strangely satisfying, but why?

A realization hit him like a freight train. Did he harbor feelings for Gwen? He blinked in surprise, as if attempting to dispel the sudden revelation from his mind. She wasn't typically his type, with her shoulder-length blond hair, striking blue eyes, and delicate frame. Yet, there was something about her, something ineffably enchanting.

The image of Gwen on the train resurfaced unexpectedly, the way her bright eyes had locked onto his, her hair framing her face just so. Her height was just right too, tall enough to be a match, yet not overly so. His mind played out the sensation of pulling her into an embrace, feeling her tucked securely against him.

A mental picture of her cheering him on at a basketball game while wearing his jersey sparked a flutter of warmth in his chest. No, he reconsidered, she should wear his hoodie - it would be cozier, and he liked the thought of her enveloped in something that belonged to him. Yet, a jersey with his name and number on it would be a clear statement to the world that she was his...

An electronic buzz echoed in the room, pulling Luke out of his reverie. His phone vibrated on the pillow where he'd tossed it in frustration. Despite its relative distance from his spot on the floor, the allure of the unanswered message beckoned him to fight through the pain.

Grimacing, he commenced the painful trek across the room. Each motion rekindled the biting sting in his shoulder, leading him to wince and groan. As dire as the situation was, he found a shred of gratitude for the vacant house. The last thing he needed was a well-meaning maid discovering him and worse, alerting his mother.

Finally, he managed to pull himself onto the edge of the bed. Relief washed over him as he reached out, retrieved the phone from the pillow, and unlocked it.

An unread message from Gwen awaited him, causing his heart to skip a beat.

StarryEyedWanderer: Is that you asking me out on a date? 7:33 AM

The message staggered him, his eyes darting to the timestamp. Had he seriously spent ten minutes lost in a daydream about Gwen? Embarrassment flooded his cheeks. He was behaving like a lovesick teenager. This was unlike him.

Yet, he couldn't suppress the thrill that coursed through him at the thought of Gwen accepting his proposal. But how was he to respond? Was he even prepared for this?

Without responding to her message, he fired up his browser and typed out a frantic search: 'How to ask a girl on a date'. A slew of websites appeared, each offering their brand of advice, which seemed to blur into a vague chorus of: 'Confidence is key.'

But if he possessed such confidence, would he be resorting to internet wisdom in the early hours of the morning?

"Who the hell wrote this?" He grumbled to himself, shifting to ease the pain in his shoulder. Platitudes were the last thing he needed. He craved a clear-cut answer.

He was acutely aware of time ticking away. His mother had always emphasized the importance of timely responses, particularly when it came to girls. Not wanting to keep Gwen waiting, he returned to their Snapchat conversation.

He began typing a response, only to erase it moments later. This cycle continued several times, each new attempt crinkling his forehead with anxiety. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he sent a reply and immediately switched off his phone. He couldn't bring himself to face her response just yet.