Close. Oh god, so close, too close. Summer sucked in a few shallow breaths, eyes fixed to his, and tried to find her voice again. “Yes,” she whispered, and squashed a mad desire to close that narrow space.
This wasn’t going to last. Johnny Storm was a flirt even more notorious, if that was possible, than Tony Stark. He was just playing until someone better caught his eye, and then she’d be picking herself up off the floor.
She bit her lip, and tried, hopelessly, to look demure. “You’re very good at this, Mr Storm.”
He smiled at her, knowing she wouldn’t fall for his bait so easily. That’s why he liked her so much. She would be more of a challenge – but most were unaware of the amount of patience he actually possessed.
“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice, as I’m sure you’ve read about,” he said, with only the slightest hint of bitterness. Tabloids – whether truthful or not – made it very difficult for him to form any serious relationships. He had a reputation to uphold, it would seem.
“What was /that/?” Something else, something sharp and a little ugly, had slashed a hole in the flirtatiousness there for just a second. She stumbled, distracted by it, and her smile faded into something concerned and sympathetic.
“Johnny — Mr Storm, why does it seem like saying that hurt you?” she asked softly.
He rolled his eyes at that, a bit of his charm waning.
“That’s what you think, isn’t it?” he asked. It wasn’t harsh or bitter, just a little disappointed, “That’s what everyone thinks, isn’t it? That I’ve been around a lot. That I can’t do anything serious. I just make everything a game don’t I?”
He didn’t stop dancing, but the smile fell from his face as he stared at her intently.
Her hand shook a little against his back as she muttered, “I don’t now. Most people don’t have my gifts, though.” Her voice strengthened as she went on. “They can’t see your motives, Mr Storm, all they can see are your actions.” She summoned a soft smile.
“Maybe you should think about proving them wrong.”