The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 13

Talking on the phone is an awkward uncomfortable experience. It feels like an intimate set of secrets whispered into someone's ear. You can hear things in someone's voice that you would otherwise miss in a regular conversation. The sound of someone's mouth turning up into a smile. An intake of breath. It's like every audible cue is given a loud microphone.

Sure none of my physical flailing and large dramatic tics can be seen, but I feel vulnerable and caught off guard every time I have to talk on the phone. I'm a "text you" kinda girl. But I made an exception when I called the number in my phone titled, Random Number Aiden Gave Me #2.

Aiden picked up on the second ring, confirming my theory that he was in fact the owner of the second number that he had given me with ZERO context. "Hello?"

I always sat in the strangest places when talking on the phone. Like it would give me a superpower to be sitting in a bizarre pose, or better reception if I sat on the kitchen counter or laying upside down on my bed.

So as I hit the call button, I found myself half perched on the arm of my couch, tugging on a strand of my hair in a rhythmic measure to distract from the idea that I was willingly making a phone call. "Uh, yeah, is this Aiden?"

"Summers? You okay?" Aiden asked, the sound on the other end of the phone slightly garbled.

"What time does your shift start —" My phone slipped through my fingers, hit the couch, and flew across the room like it wanted to kill all potential conversations. I scrambled for it like a cat after a fish, and after dropping it three more times because, yes why not do that when you are trying to come across as a calm and collected human being, I finally got a grip on it.

Sitting on my knees I lifted it back to my ear. "Aiden, sorry about that."

But the line was dead. "Awww crap," I groaned. "I'm one smooth operator."

A sudden crash made me yelp in surprise.

Turning, I watched with wide eyes as my front door splintered at the lock, flew open, and hit the wall next to it with a loud CRACK. I scrambled back like a crab, screaming in surprise as a shadow filled the doorway. I couldn't hear anything past the ringing in my ears.

Spots filled my vision as I began to hyperventilate. The stalker is here, my mind screamed. But I couldn't move. I felt trapped, frozen, unable to defend myself. Where is a good pair of high heels when you need them to stab somebody?

But the idea of the stalker vanished, replaced by Aiden as he bolted through the door. He scanned the room searching for something before finding me half-hidden behind the couch. Dashing to my side, he crouched, looking out of breath. "Are you okay?"

I nodded mutely, my heart roaring in my ears. His voice sounded far away.

"What's wrong? Did someone get in?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he scanned my apartment again, his gaze menacing and strangely territorial.

My voice sounded like a pubescent mouse. "Just you."

He rocked back on his heels, his expression turning from cold to confused. "But you called... and on the phone, you..." He sounded flustered and if he hadn't just made the most dramatic entrance I had ever seen, on level with Rambo, it would have been adorable.

"I dropped my phone and your first thought is that I was being attacked at seven o clock in the morning?" I asked staring past him at my broken door. Damn, he's strong.

He ran his fingers through his hair. "It wouldn't be the first time."

I laughed. The idea of having a habit of being found in dangerous places wasn't funny, but there tends to be comedy in moments of dark truths.  "Fair point, but maybe knock next time."