For the Love of Super Soldiers

The Best Defense

Hello, hello! Happy 2017, everyone. Welcome back to FLOSS! Let's see what kind of trend I can get going. Probably none, but maybe one, hopefully some? Ha. What are your desires for the new year? Let me know, honestly.

💛

Chapter 18: The Best Defense

"You know, I'm starting to find it kinda sexy when you run away from me," Aaron murmured.

I glanced behind me as I placed silverware in a drawer. "What are you talking about?" I responded, eyebrow cocked.

Yes, we both knew I was working on "feelings" and "relationships," but even an attempt at discussing these concepts was up for debate. I mean, if one looked at Victorian and I, it was easily noticed that I wasn't too skilled at either of them. He was my best friend and I was ready to kill him every time he chanced a simple inhale.

Definitely not appropriate for social situations.

"We're getting closer right? Am I just imagining things? I think we're getting closer but I still scare you for some reason." Aaron said matter-of-factly. He dried the last plate and walked over to the cabinet beside me. "I don't know why that is, but I do know that I don't want that. I certainly like finding you sexy, but what I'd really like is to find you sexy because of something else. Like maybe running toward me instead. You get me?"

My forehead stitched together in an attempt to discern his rambling. I was sure there was an innuendo I had lost in translation but pressed forward. "I'm not afraid of you; fear has nothing to do with me running away from you. And, for further correction, I'm not running away, I'm—"

"Artfully retreating?" Aaron suggested. His face was close to mine and his grin was of a wolfish sort that could infect anyone in the same room.

"Artfully retreating. Yes." I felt the corners of my lips turn upwards slightly.

Cue infection.

"I just don't think that this is a good idea. We barely know one another—honestly, it's been a little over a week—and I just discovered that my father may or may not be alive. His not being alive also being recognized as a direct product of my actions, or lack thereof. There are plenty of indicators of future failure." My hands moved in the air in a nonsensical direction, just like my words. While my mouth had said "bad idea," my body wanted to scream the exact opposite.

Aaron rolled his eyes. "Don't start with the 'couple days' thing again. We're not gonna argue about the 'couple days' thing again. And two indicators doesn't equal plenty, Miss Lieutenant. That wasn't even two, really." Aaron's head moved side to side, giving his dissent a physical form.

He tacked on the nickname he had established for me after our first meeting and while it might have sounded simple to an eavesdropping ear, I knew what he was doing; dropping the Scarlett bomb would have made it too personal. I definitely would have pulled away from him then.

He was starting to figure me out.

Thank God.

"That still doesn't change the fact this is not a good time to be initiating relationships..." I hesitated. "Or whatever!" That's right. Save face, girl.
"Do Slicers, Hunters, and near-death experiences turn you on?" I frowned. "That's not an attractive fetish—that is, if fetishes can even be attractive—and it certainly won't be earning you any brownie points." I scrunched my face in disgust to drive my point home further.

Aaron inched closer and boxed me in against the counter. "If you're involved? Absolutely." He bent while wrapping his arms around my middle and lifted me to sit atop the marble surface. "And, if given any amount of time and space that allows me to be with you, I will be."