Lucas returns wearing a grey hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants, though the same sneakers as before. He's just as attractive in that as he is in his uniform. I have to wonder if he knows he's having an effect on me.

While he was changing out of his uniform and preparing to go, I was thinking a bit. For whatever reason, he's going a bit above and beyond with me. Does he have some other motivation? I didn't ask Tabitha or the other lady at the desk, but I'm pretty sure this level of help isn't normal. I mean, taking me out for dinner after the first session, then helping me go shopping?

Maybe it is and I'm overthinking this just because I know he's gay and I find him cute and a nice guy. It could be he's just taking this as part of his job. I mean, he said to eat within two hours, and I mentioned that it's a forty-minute walk home. He probably wants to make sure I eat before the two-hour limit, for whatever reason it exists, and the shopping and meal plan is probably just part of his job as a personal trainer.

I've never been through this sort of thing before, so it could be normal. I mean, part of his job is coaching me on this, now.

"Ready to go?" Lucas asks.

"Yeah," I answer.

"Let's go," he says.

I follow him out of the center, and we both almost immediately pull our hoods up. The sun set a bit ago, and with it, the temperatures dropped. Sivalshi is potentially heading towards a colder zone right now. Though I don't follow the news beyond what I overhear when passing by a TV, I did catch the prediction. He went from swimming at a rate of about three miles per day to about six starting about a week ago and hasn't slowed down. He's also begun heading north. We may be looking at a freezing winter for the first time in my life.

Our breaths fog on the air as we walk towards the diner in silence, and I notice that Lucas is standing a little close to me. Maybe it's not my imagination. While he's cute, if he's looking for a hookup, he'll have to look elsewhere. Though I have a few fantasies from time to time, I don't really have much libido.

We reach the building with the diner he suggested, a twenty-story building with the diner on the first floor, giving it a view from the street. That must help to draw people in since they can see it better. There are probably a few more restaurants in the building itself, but the one with the street view gets a premium on impulse customers.

Lucas opens the door and lets me in first, then follows behind me. It smells of grease and fast food, and I can hear the sizzling of the fryers in the back, even though there aren't any customers in here at the moment. Maybe it doesn't get as many customers as I thought it would, considering the time.

There's a chrome bar running most of the length of the back wall, with booth tables along the front wall. The booths and the stools at the counter all have red cushioning, some of which is split. The chrome plating on the edges of the seats, table, and bar are all a bit dulled from age, and I can spot a couple of cracks, too. The lighting is decent. Not poor, but not excellent, either.

Homey.

"Hey, Lucas," the waitress behind the counter looks up from the book of puzzles she's working on. "Who's the cutie?"

"Not what you're thinking," he tells her. "New client at the center. He lives a bit away, though, and needs help figuring out what to eat, so I'm taking him to the store to help him. Figured we'd stop for something eat before heading back, because while I don't know about him, I know I'm starving."

Not what she's thinking? Does that mean he brings hookups here, then? Or a past boyfriend?

"Alright," she says. "Have a seat wherever and I'll be with you to get your drinks."

"Thanks," he beckons to me. "Let's have a seat."

Lucas sits in one of the booths, and I sit across from him. Because of their comments, I can't help but think about what that means. Just as I realize I'm staring at Lucas while he's trying to hand me a menu, he notices my gaze.

"Everything alright?" He asks.

"She, ah, knows?" I ask, letting my eyes wander around the diner a little more.

There's a TV above the counter at just the right angle for me to see from here, the volume high enough for us to hear the news that's playing, but low enough to not bother most customers.

"Yeah," his cheeks flush a little. "Sorry, I forgot about that when thinking of this place. I just love their food. I used to come here with my ex."

"How long ago did you break up?"

"About four months ago," he answers. "It wasn't, ah, pleasant. Sandy's been asking me when I'm getting a new boyfriend, she probably thought it was you because of that. I promise I'm not trying to make a move on you or anything. I mean, I know you're cute and look a twink, but you're just a client who started today, and I'd rather actually know someone before making a move on them. Hell, you seem pretty straight to me."

"I 'seem' straight?" I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that? Other than the bracelet, I wouldn't have any thoughts about you being gay."

Well, other than that and seeing him checking out my ass.

"You didn't hesitate much when getting naked in front of me," he clarifies. "Was basically just like 'whatever', and weren't constantly checking to see if I was checking. You also didn't react much to me touching you while you were naked."

So he wasn't basing that off my attitude or walk or talk or anything, but on if I was checking to see if he was checking me out and my response to his touch. He definitely had an effect on me, I was just a bit too disoriented to tell him.

"He's 'just a client', huh?" Sandy asks. "One who gets naked in front of you? I know you use a different changing room from the clients, hun."

I look at Lucas as I try to figure out if it's safe to tell her or not. Though most people accept power users, there are a few who hate us, and I don't know if she knows that his center is for power users or not. I'd initially thought it was just some exclusive, elite workout center that decided to plop itself into a lower district. Took me almost three years to realize it was for power users.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Yeah," he tells me. "She's cool with stuff like that. She's known about me since I was little."

"It's my power," I tell her. "I can't use it while dressed at the moment."

That's vague enough that it could be any number of powers. I've heard of people who can manifest wings from their back or spikes all over their body. I've even heard of someone who can catch themselves on fire. Kind of hard to keep clothes on when your body's flaming. It tends to burn them right off.

"Ah," she says. "And Lucas here is your personal trainer?"

"Yep," I answer. "He's going to work with me on not ending up naked every time I use it."

"That must be fun," she winks at him.

"Oh, jeez, Sandy," he groans, burying his head into his hands.

"What can I get you two to drink?" She asks as I wonder if she's poking at him being gay or if there's an actual story behind that.

"We'll both have orange juice," he tells her. "Unless you have lemonade made from lemons, then maybe a bit of that."

"I can do a citrus twister if you want," she says.

"Sure," he tells her. "Two of those."

"Back in a minute with those," she says, then leaves.

"She made a poke at you helping a guy keep his clothes on rather than take them off?" I ask. "Have you, ah, been trying to get hookups since your breakup? Just curious because you told me-"

"I hooked up with her son before I started dating my ex," he looks up at me, face crimson. "I had just turned eighteen, he's about a year older, and I'd been coming here for a few years at that point. Nervous and jittery, I was that time. She walked in on me fumbling as I tried to undress him. She's teased me ever since."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

We're quiet for a few minutes as we examine our menus, then Sandy shows up with two glasses of a thin-looking orange juice. I take a sip of it, tasting the orange juice, some lemonade, and the fizz I didn't notice to it. It's not half-bad.

"Made with all-fresh ingredients," she tells me. "We're able to order them from the orchards right now. Comes at a premium to sell, though."

"Figures," I say, wondering how much money Lucas makes from his job if he's able to come here regularly.

"You two ready to order?" She asks.

"Yep," Lucas says. "Let me order for you tonight, Kieran. I can pick the best thing to help you recover from the magic use. I know you're probably still feeling a bit off, and not just 'cause you haven't eaten in awhile. That's from using your ability without having proper nutrition for awhile."

I want to resist his offer because I found something I want to try, but jeez, I'm falling way too fast for him. He seems so caring, and he's just so damn attractive.

"Sure," I set the menu back in the holder beside the wall.

"We'll both have the power-up special," Lucas tells Sandy.

The power-up special? I don't remember seeing that on the menu.

"You're lucky I know what you mean, hun," she chuckles. "You made up that name."

"I use it 'cause you know it," he grins back. "Thanks, Sandy."

"No problem," she heads to the back.

Lucas and I are silent for a few minutes again. I'm not really sure what to say here, and he seems to be mulling something over.

"Do your friends know about your ability?" He eventually asks.

"I don't really have friends."

"Really?" He seems surprised.

"I spend most of my time just trying to do whatever odd jobs I manage," I tell him. "When I'm not, I just relax at home. It's not much time, though I guess with the advance, I'll have a bit more time to myself. It seems the potential boss wants me to not have to worry about needing to do so many temp jobs."

I might keep doing the jobs, though, in preparation for if I don't get the job. It'll help me be able to pay back the Patron, too, and I might actually manage a little bit more food for a short while. Though I'm dreading what'll happen when I tell my agent at the temp agency I go through. I may end up getting less jobs because of it.

"Good luck," he tells me. "As long as you follow the schedule I set and follow the guidelines for the post-training meals, you should be fine."

"Thanks," I say as something on the TV catches my attention, the face of a seven-year-old boy with blond hair and dark brown eyes. "A kid was murdered."

"Huh?" He turns and looks at the TV.

"The Blond Boy Basher has struck again," the news anchor says. "This marks his sixth victim, following his pattern of one kill every four days with his latest kill occurring only hours ago, the victim's body left in front of the boy's home, as with all previous victims. As with the previous five victims, it was a blond-haired boy no older than ten, and he was found with his body severely beaten, as if repeatedly bashed with a large, heavy, blunt object until every bone had been broken. Seven-year-old Matthew Holmes was playing at Lamatri Park in the upper districts when he went missing four days ago. His parents had taken their gazes off of him for only a few moments to talk with a friend.

"Parents," she continues. "In this trying time, please remember to always keep your children near and your eyes on them. Until the Blond Boy Basher is found, it is especially important for the parents of blond boys under the age of eleven to keep careful watch over their sons."

"Disgusting," Lucas mutters.

"Yeah," I answer. "I hope the guy's caught soon."

"Not just that," he looks at me. "The Patron doesn't care about things like that. It's not a threat to the actual safety of public order, only a select few. Sure, people will be worried, but does he care? No. Most of what he sends his Sivalshi Guardians after are people who oppose him."

Of course the cute guy who's going to be training me for the next month is anti-Patron. I should've known he had a flaw.

"Most of them try to incite riots and anarchy," I point out. "That's what he's going after. Norman Whitehall is basically ignored."

"That's because he has power users who know what they're doing," Lucas shakes his head. "The Patron doesn't want to have to replace them."

"Is it really?" I ask. "No one's really heard of more than an encounter between one of the guardians and Whitehall's men. It's only been four separate occasions, and only one guardian was present at each time. Yet they always wiped the floor with Whitehall's men. Those men were also trying to incite riots at the time. It's entirely possible that if the Patron wanted, he could wipe out Whitehall by sending all of his guardians after the guy."

"We're going to have to agree to disagree on this," he mutters. "You seem nice enough, I don't want to get into an argument."

"I can agree with that," I say.

We fall into silence again, and Sandy returns with our food.

There's a decent-sized salad plate full of leafy greens, carrot slices, and some other things I don't really recognize, all sliced like the carrots. There are also some blueberries, chopped nuts, and even small orange slices. I've never seen oranges that small before. Then there's a small dish with five thick mozzarella sticks and a cup of marinara.

In addition to those, there's a basket with six decent-sized chicken tenders, the rest of the basket full of seasoned shoestring fries. In a dessert bowl to the side is a bright yellow pudding. Then there's also a milkshake that I find out is blueberry banana.

This order isn't for us to share. We each get this much food.

"Damn," I say.

"What?" Lucas asks as Sandy finishes putting the food down.

"This is more food than I eat in three days."

"We're going to your apartment first," he tells me. "So I can see what dishes you have. If needed, you will be buying new dishes to help you make these meals. You're probably helpless in the kitchen, so when you show up for training tomorrow, I'm going to have a recipe book. All you need to do is follow the instructions exactly."

Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm in no way offended. He's absolutely right about how helpless I am in the kitchen.