Just a Blast from the Past

Chapter Four

It was hard to let him go that evening. Natasha kept coming up with questions and various topics for Natalie to ask and discuss.

He answered them gladly and with much interest moreover, but the clock soon struck an hour when any meeting had to reach its end to keep its respectable nature and when decency wanted a woman to head back home. God, it hadn't been a day yet and she already hated all this bothersome etiquette.

'Shall I accompany you back to your apartment?' Steve asked while she was putting on her coat.

She genuinely found the whole question and the chivalrous tone he had taken hilarious.

'Good one,' she laughed instinctively.

He looked at her with a perplexed frown. She realized her mistake.

'Oh, it won't be necessary. I'll take a cab, anyway,' she rectified with a smile. 'But thank you.'

Steve nodded and walked her outside the venue on the sidewalk. He lifted his arm and hailed for a cab which pulled over immediately, much to her regret. Steve went to the taxi and opened the back door for her.

She reluctantly stepped down the sidewalk and stood behind the door, face to him. She looked him in the eye closely, gathering the most vivid sight of him to take away with her. She brushed off the fear of losing him again by reminding herself he wasn't meant to die, neither tonight nor the day after. Steve was pretty much safe in that timeline.

'Good night, Miss Rushman,' he said with a polite voice.

She bit her bottom lip then composed her best smile.

'See you tomorrow, captain Rogers,' her eyes glittered at the prospect of it.

He nodded and waited until she got in the taxi then he gently pushed the door closed for her.

The car drove away and she looked at his reflection in the outside rear-view mirror as he stood tall by the side of the road.

She went to bed that night with this image of him playing in her head over and over till she finally drifted off.

* * *

The next meeting had been set for lunch in a quiet and affordable restaurant Steve had said he really enjoyed going.

She put on a more casual, but still elegant outfit and let her curly hair down. She then grabbed the key tool of her trickery, her notebook, and headed out of the apartment.

Finding him sitting on the chair at the terrace brought her joy and relief. Steve seemed to be doodling on the paper napkin put on the table. He glimpsed absently in her direction then looked again with a friendly smile on. He rose to his feet and straightened his jacket as she walked up to him.

He waited for her to sit first then sat back in his chair. They ordered a drink and she felt as he threw glances at her from time to time while she pretended to look down at the notes she had written in her notebook the evening before.

'I am going to ask you short questions and I would like you to give me an answer as brief as possible,' she eventually said, looking up at him.

Steve nodded.

She picked up the pen between her fingers.

'What name do you like to be called?'

'Steve.'

'What kind of people you think should be fought?'

'Bullies.'

'And what kind of people deserve to be protected?'