For the Love of Super Soldiers

Built Flower Tough

"We already established you don't do that unless you need to. Do you think you need to?"

I mumbled my answer.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Yes, I do." I grumbled. "I thought you came in here for something else."

"Like what?" Aaron asked. His eyes were shining now, like he was ready to tell a joke.

"Like not to tell me to apologize to my best friend for being my best friend."

My body flattened against the bed and Aaron was hovering over me again. He lifted the hem of my tank top up, and I felt the knuckles of his fingers brush against my stomach. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," I whispered.

Why are you whispering, Scarlett?! Scream! Yell! Kiss him! Do something!

Brain talk. I was starting to believe that it was an effect of the injections. Maybe I was finally going insane.

Aaron leaned down and his lips brushed back and forth along my collarbone.

Yep. Insane.

"Something like this?"

He stopped in the middle and kissed his way up to my lips. I never really had many chances to kiss boys in high school or men in the military, but instincts told me that Aaron was the best kisser I had encountered in my entire lifetime.

Hell, hormones told me.

He pulled back and brushed a finger along my cheek.

"Yeah," I answered quietly. "Something like that. Jesus, you're turning me into some dandelion."

The mattress lifted as he got off the bed. "With your personality, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Mmm. And here I was hoping you'd take it as otherwise."

"Don't be sarcastic. It takes away from your bright outlook on life."

I rolled my eyes and sat up straight. "We wouldn't want that, would we?"

Aaron laughed another one of those throaty laughs that made me want to curl up and just listen to it. He had a nice laugh. One that I didn't want to stop hearing anytime soon.

"When you're ready, everyone is downstairs."

"Why?"

"Fish and Chips said you told him to find out what everyone wants to eat. He suggested lasagna. Everyone said yes, which means..."

"I'm going to cut Victorian in two," I said to myself.

The bastard would tell them I could make lasagna. And I could. A good one. I just hadn't felt compelled to in five years. Or however much time had passed since then.

"Well, I was going to say, 'that means you're making lasagna,' but...hmm. Why on earth would you do that and not me?" Aaron questioned. "Something I should know about your lasagna?"

I debated on whether to tell Aaron about her. Whether I should tell him about my family and how absolutely and dysfunctionally perfect it was.

I debated on whether I should tell him about me.

"Hey, your answer should have been something like, 'yes, it's the best damn lasagna you'll ever have!' or something like that. Instead, I'm getting silence. What's wrong?"

He grabbed my hands and laced his fingers through mine.

"Everyone has things they'd rather not bring to light, right?" I asked. "Things they don't want people to know?"