The past few days had been so mentally draining, that it was no surprise I got a severe migraine on our flight to Florence the next morning.
I groaned and closed my eyes, leaning back in my seat. I'd already taken an aspirin, but the headache wasn't any close to going away.
I noticed Soler drumming his fingers on the armrest, and the constant rhythm of his movement was making my head hurt even more. I turned to him. "Hey, can you stop doing that? I'm getting a migraine."
He shrugged, his voice emotionless. "Then take an aspirin."
I raised an eyebrow at him. Why was he acting so cold all of a sudden?
"What's up with you? Why're you acting like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like how you used to act with me. I thought we were past all that."
His face remained stoic and cold for a few more seconds, before he looked at me. His resolve seemed to crumble as he sighed, his fingers no longer beating down on the armrest.
He turned away again, looking out of the small window. But despite my pounding headache, I was curious. I needed to know the reason for his sudden mood shift.
"You didn't answer my question, Soler."
He gave me an irritated look. "I don't have to answer all your damn questions."
My temper started rising too. "Well, for one, I'm having a terrible migraine now and you're not helping. Secondly, why are you suddenly acting like a jerk? These past few days we've managed to get along so well, and honestly it made me relieved. Happy, even. Now, again I don't know what you're doing. What's wrong, Soler? I'm trying to understand."
He remained silent for a few seconds, an agonised expression crossing his face for a fleeting moment. It's like he was struggling with something deep inside, and it made me want to reach out and listen, instead of being mad.
Finally, just as I thought he was going to confide in me, he turned to me with a look that was almost sad. "You wouldn't get it, Winter. Leave it, I'm fine."
The fleeting moment of vulnerability was long gone from his face, and his chiselled features adopted that cool, confident look once more, as if nothing in the world could affect him.
He didn't want to tell me. He was still pushing me away.
I knew how to respect people's boundaries, I really did. I wasn't a very nosy person who meddled in others' lives, but somehow, in that one moment, Soler had actually looked like he'd wanted to share everything with me, tell me whatever was going on in his mind. But just at the last moment, he'd pulled back and retreated, pretending nothing was wrong.
It bothered me, and deep inside, a part of me also felt hurt.
Hurt. I never thought I'd actually feel hurt that Soler didn't share something with me. A few months back, I wouldn't have even given a shit.
But now? Now it really sucked.
I figured there was no use trying to get anything out of him anymore, so I leaned back and closed my eyes, desperately hoping for the god-awful headache to go away fast.
I didn't remember when exactly I drifted off to sleep, but apparently I did, and when I awoke, I saw only a few minutes were left for us to land. My migraine had thankfully gone by now.
Suddenly, as I sat up, I noticed a light comforter draped over me, the kind they give you on a flight. I didn't remember putting it over myself, so then how...?
I turned towards Soler, and noticed his eyes were already on me, a slightly nervous expression on his face.
"Um," he began, "You--you were kind of shivering in your sleep. So I put that comforter over you. I, uh, I figured it'd help you sleep better. You need sleep."
His cheeks were ever so slightly flushed, and I couldn't help but smile. "That was...that was nice of you, thanks Soler."
He nodded, and I couldn't make sense of his mood swings. One minute he was being an asshole, and then the next he was sweet, almost like he cared.
Hah, Soler and sweet. Never thought I'd associate those two words with each other.
After a while, our plane landed at the airport in Florence and sure enough, our TIA authorised black Range Rover was waiting for us, ready to take us to our new hotel.
The missions might've been exhausting, but this luxury treatment of private jets and Range Rovers was definitely something I appreciated.
We reached our hotel within a few minutes. It was called Alfieri Collezione and was located right on the banks of the river Arno. A sprawling property, it was quite a beautiful place to stay in, just a stone's throw from the Uffizi Gallery and Pitti Palace.
I sometimes wished I were a normal, everyday tourist, who was travelling the world and seeing everything she possibly could. But unfortunately, my travelling was only limited to putting up at hotels and navigating dirty roads to spy on shady criminals.
Shaking my head to rid my mind of these pointless thoughts, I took a quick, much needed shower and wore the soft bathrobe given by the hotel. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I actually looked like I was on vacation.
Suddenly, there was a knock on my door. I hurried out and opened it, to reveal Soler. His dark hair was wet and he was wearing a simple black t-shirt and joggers. But even simple clothes managed to looked great on him. Life was so unfair.
He seemed a bit hesitant as he entered my room. "Hey."
I was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that I was only in a bathrobe, as I felt his eyes travelling over my form. Heat rose up my cheeks, but I didn't want to let him know he was affecting me.
I nodded at him. "Hey, what's up?"
He looked down at his feet for a second, then raised his head to stare at me again. The green of his eyes was excruciating.
"I, um, wanted to apologise for being a jerk on the flight. I was feeling pissed at myself, and I kind of let it out on you."
I was indeed surprised at how far we'd come from the stubborn, fighting mess we used to be.
I shook my head. "It's fine, but if you want, you can tell me what was bothering you. We're friends, and I thought friends share stuff with each other."
He took a deep breath in. "That's the thing. I--I can't tell you. Sorry, Winter, but this is just something which is my own problem and I don't want you knowing about it. At least, not now."
"What do you mean?"
He looked pained. "I mean...I want to tell you, but I can't right now. Maybe one day, I will. I don't know yet. I wish you knew, Winter, but I just can't bring myself to tell you."
I frowned. What was so secret that he couldn't share it with me? "Are you a double agent?" I blurted out before I could help myself.
I really wished I could've kept my mouth shut, but my idiot brain just refused to listen. What kind of a stupid move was that? Soler wouldn't be a double agent, and if he was, this was the most rookie move I could've played.
I was honestly starting to believe my brain switched off whenever I was around him.
Soler stared at me for a solid five seconds before bursting into laughter. I'd never seen him laugh like this before, the full and laugh-until-your-cheeks-hurt kind.
Even though I felt like an idiot, hearing and seeing him laugh like this made me happy, for some strange reason.
He spluttered out between his laughs. "Is--is that what you think? I'm a double agent? Winter, after ten years of knowing me, this is what you could come up with?"
He was shaking his head and grinning at me, making me glare at him. "Shut up. You--you never know."
He took a step closer and stood directly in front of me, his voice smooth and deep. "But you know. You know me best out of all the other agents, Winter."
I gulped. We were again standing too close, far too close for my own good. This wasn't done. Why was he affecting me so much with his proximity?
Suddenly, Miranda's words came back to me. I've seen the way he looks at you sometimes, Kaia.
No, I needed to focus on the case. I needed to devote all my thoughts towards finding Mason and Amélie, and bringing them back in one piece. Thoughts about Soler, puzzling, confusing thoughts and muddled emotions couldn't get in the way.
Then why couldn't I tear my gaze away?
His eyes, god, his eyes were pretty. Why couldn't my eyes be like his? So brilliantly green, like a forest after rain. The kind of green you can't take your eyes off, the kind of green that can draw you in like a black hole.
He was staring at me like he was deep in thought, as if his eyes were committing my face to memory. Why was he looking at me like that?
God, I needed to stop this now.
I turned my head away to look at the ground, shrugging. "Yeah, that was stupid of me to say. I should've known better."
I heard his exhale as he ran a hand through his hair. He was frustrated, I could feel it.
So was I.
There was this growing tension between us, and I couldn't figure out if it was good or bad. The uncertainty was killing me.
"Right," he finally said. He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'd better get going. I--I'll let you change now."
I felt his eyes linger on my monogrammed bathrobe for a tense moment, before he turned and walked out.
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and sat down on the bed. This was officially more confusing than the case itself.
a/n: you know your feelings have gotten *really* messed up when you think they're more confusing than a case like this.