S A U D A D E

marry me, you have bought me books

It's around 3:15 and a steady stream of supermodel looking Americans, male and female, are flooding the gate. The girls hit on the Cap. The guys just watch in complete jealously. I would stand with them but I probably shouldn't.

I'm flipping through the Marvel comics, trying to block out the noise for the next twenty minutes, when I feel someone tap on my shoulder. My heart skips a beat, but returns to its normal boring rate when I see that it's just some American kid with too many freckles to be genetically possible and crystal clear blue eyes. I would have once thought he was hot but this has been quite the hectic morning.

He leans in for a kiss and I slap him in disgust with a comic book. "Sod off," I proclaim, and his friends jump out from their hiding places laughing their sorry arses off, and so I raise the comic book at them too and they scatter immediately. Americans and their idiotic dares.

I continue reading.

Not even ten minutes later, I feel another tap on my shoulder. Gentler. I turn around, comic book prepared.

Cat eyes. I sigh with relief.

He tilts his head, opens his mouth to say something, and I blurt out, "How come your nose is bent?" STUPID. STUPID, STUPID, STUPID. YOU BLITHERING IDIOT.

He smiles again. "You know, you're awfully cute when you're embarrassed."

I groan and lie down immaturely on the floor of the bookstore like any normal 17 year old. "I must be real hot right now, then."

Captain America leans back and laughs, a big, booming sound that comes straight from his heart, and it fills every shadow momentarily with beautiful golden sunshine. If the sun ever burned out and the world fell into complete darkness, Captain America's laugh would probably light up all of London.

While he's laughing, I'm scrambling back onto my butt so I can sit comfortably and read. The bookshelves are shielding me from the horror that is American teenagers.

Captain America scratches his head. It's oddly adorable. I'm hoping that he can't read my expressions all that well because then I would be pretty screwed.

"You know, I was trying to talk to you before," he says, flashing his smile at me. My entire body screams. Except my mouth. Everything else is internal.
     "I wasn't going to disturb your conversation with those gorgeous American girls," I reply in a sickeningly sweet voice, and stand to match his height, except I'm short and he's not. I instinctively step up on the table nearest to him, just barely topping his six foot something frame.
     "I wasn't exactly interested in talking to them," he tells me, gaze flickering slightly upward and smiling.
     "Were you, now."
     "No. Because I'd picked up the guts to talk to you."
     I suck in a large gulp of air and hold it for a bit.
     "Clever decision, dear."
     "Are you always this sarcastic?"
"Are you always such a flirt?"
"You sassy little shit."
     "You should see me scolding my friends," I lament, "I'm a shitload of sarcasm then."
      "I'd love if you could scold me instead of telling me about it."
      "You want me to scold you?"
      "I'd pay to see it."
      The trace of a smile flutters across my lips, and he looks up at me, eyes crinkling with suppressed laughter, patiently waiting.
      "Like you would be tough enough to take it," I respond haughtily, crossing my arms. I love this game.
      "I probably wouldn't," he admits, flashing a snarky grin at me. I smile and turn back to my pile of books.

"Let me get those for you."

Seeing that he's noticed my gigantic pile of pages and souvenirs surrounding me, I shrug and slip down from the table to hand him the comic books because I know the plane's loading soon and he wants to put them away for me. Very gentlemanly. So I start freaking out when he brings them to the cash register.

"What?!" I screech very plainly, and try to take the books away from him. I'm too short. Jumping up and down and standing on tables, I reach for his hand but he's holding the books up so I can't reach them. "NO, YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THAT'S ALMOST 87 POUNDS!" I scream, trying my best to convert American money to mine.

The little shit just laughs. "Hey, sweetie, please. Got my credit card out and everything."

Pouting, I cross my arms and sulk but I can't contain my excitement when he walks out with me, shouldering a huge bag of comics and Harry Potter specials and cool shit that I want to bring home and obsess over.

"I may be tiny but I can damn well hold that."
"I believe you."
"Then why won't you let me?"
"Because you're too cute to be holding all this."

I growl and slowly unsheathe my Wolverine claws, hissing as I swipe the bag from his hand, running away gleefully as he laughs.

As I sit down to catch my breath and rummage through my bag of amazingness, I tell him, "I would say for you to stop flirting with me but it's nice getting free stuff. And I don't even know your name."

Captain America mocks looking offended. "Oh, so you're using me?" he implies dramatically as he watches me pull out a Hufflepuff Quidditch hoodie from the bag and pull it on. I smile at its softness and pull the hood over my head, and put a hand to my heart. "I am the beautiful seductress who has captured your heart and you therefore obey my every wish..." I look to him, eyes pleading for a name.

"Wren."
Heart flutter. One of my favorite guy names. Also a discreet Pretty Little Liars reference.

"...Wren," I finish, lightly touching his shoulder and giving him a tiny smile. He grins sheepishly and blushes and I'm glad I have some effect on him because hell, we might as well hit it off — we're gonna have to be real good friends for the flight.

     Wren holds his hand to his heart and mocks fainting. "Oh beautiful Queen, I shall live to see your light and die if you shall pass," he relishes dramatically, and I laugh as he waves his fingers in the air to suggest glitter. Glitter just fucking flying everywhere. This man may well be my next best friend.

"So what is your name?" Wren (sigh) wonders aloud, and I reply quietly, "Annabel."

"Annabeth?"
"Bel."
"Belle."
"No. Annabel," I correct him shyly. I'm not used to nice guys who asks happen to be drop dead gorgeous asking for my name. "My name's Annabel," I whisper, and shrink away from him, burying my face in Avengers v X-Men.
Wren cocks his head and scrunches up his nose, which I imitate. "Have we met before?" he questions.
"Was that a pickup line?"
"No, I just honestly feel like I've met you before."
A beat.
"I don't think I've ever laid eyes on you."
"Unfortunate. But I guess you're right. I couldn't forget meeting someone like yourself."
"AHA! It was a pickup line!"
He chuckles and shakes his head.
"An overused and abused pickup line wouldn't work on you. I'll have to be creative."
"Wren!"
     He looks at me like I'm a little girl (which I am) and right on cue, the announcements boom over the intercom: "We are now boarding Group 1" is repeated over and over again. Wren sighs and stands up, grabbing his luggage. "That's me."

I actually have to take a second to process that. "You-You're group one?"

"...Yes."
"S-so am I."

Fate hates me.

Wren actually laughs in disbelief and then kisses me. Not a long make out session but the sweetest peck on the top of my head ever. We're both blushing madly. And we're both looking like damn fools.

I gently shake awake the old lady and tell her we're boarding, although I saw her ticket read Group 3. I call up security to help her onto the plane, and she kisses my hand before I leave. "Thank you, dear. And have fun with your boyfriend there. He's a catch."

"Oh, he's not — "

She's disappeared in the swarm of people.

I retrieve my luggage and begin boarding the plane alongside Wren, who's still smiling like he's won the lottery.

It might not be the same thing, but he's definitely won my heart.