“I don’t know, man. But if that ever happens? No double dates.”
Danny snorted. “Deal.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Andre asked more seriously again. “When you ran out of here last night…”
Thinking back on the evening’s events—on his outburst at Joey, Stella, and John; on how he’d acted with Cho before he snapped out of his anger—Danny’s gaze drifted until he focused on the mended glass again, ready with the usual canned response of I’m fine. I’ll be fine. But he was so tired of lying.
“I’m not. I’m not okay. I’m trying…but I think I’ve kept some things in for so long, I don’t know how to let them out without exploding. It’s like every resentment and insecurity I’ve ever felt is right under the surface all the time. And god, that must sound so selfish when I’m Zeus,” Danny laughed—falsely, miserably. “The local superhero, who the whole city loves, and I’m complaining about bad moods. I don’t have the right to be this messed up when other people have had it so much worse.”