The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 21

I am a nervous, insomnia-filled human. Meaning, that as soon as I want to sleep, I can't. My brain decides to send me into a spiral leaving me helpless and so wide awake that the idea of sleep seems like a joke.

My brain becomes a ping pong of energy and questionable sanity. The key is knowing when to stop fighting your brain. To know when to just give in and try to tire your brain out. I think Aiden must have understood firsthand how to handle insomnia because after Tate walked out the door, Aiden turned the television back on, understanding on some deep level that it was the background noise I needed to shut my brain up.

A moment later I heard a familiar theme song start playing, the short jingle that started Fraiser, filled the room and washed a sense of calm over me. It was followed up by the smell of cinnamon and a warm cup of spiced chia hovering next to my face.

Aiden held out the hot cup of tea towards me, the steam from the cup tickling my nose. It smelled fantastic but... it was tea. And I knew better than to believe that leaves would taste as good as this drink smelled. "Humor me," Aiden said in an amused tone. "I let you pretend to sleep during my whole conversation with Tate. Just try it."

I clamped my mouth shut and took the hot cup of tea, too embarrassed at being caught to protest.

Aiden sat down in the chair next to the couch and sipped his own cup of tea. His white button-up shirt was a crumpled mess, his hair disheveled. And all the unkept state did was make him look more approachable in his attractiveness. He seemed more vulnerable and tired in the shadows of the night with only the light of the television to frame his face.

The flickering colors carved into his lines, like a glowing frame highlighting his jaw, the curve of his neck, the veins in his arms, his beauty in the dim light. It was utterly disarming. A filter that threatened to open my heart and swallow me whole. My gosh, he needs to stop being so good-looking. It's not good for my health.

"You should go home," I said, pulling my eyes away. I stared down at my cup of tea, eyeing it with distrust.

Aiden took a long sip of tea and grunted, which I took as a sign that he wasn't going to be swayed. Finally, after several hesitant sniffs, I took a sip of the chai. My eyes went wide in surprise.

"Not that bad is it?" Aiden smirked without even glancing in my direction. "Figured a sweeter flavor would be my best chance to get you to be open-minded about tea."

"This would taste great with a cinnamon PopTart," I blurted.

Aiden nearly spat out his tea. "Please never disgrace the tea by pairing it with—"

I snorted. "Oh come on! Tea and biscuits! Isn't that a thing! Think of the PopTart as a biscuit."

"That would be an insult to biscuits," Aiden said looking beyond flustered. He stared at me like I was a deranged psychopath.

I laughed. "You sound like Frazier," I said motioning to Kelsey Grammar on the screen as he began to monologue about how pairing a glass of red wine with fish was a crime. "So particular!"

Aiden smiled. "What does that make you?"

I weighed all my character options from the show carefully, trying to pick a character with the least amount of flaws. They were all dramatic in their own way, the question was... what type of dramatic did I want to declare myself as. "Martin."

Aiden laughed. The sound filled the living room and warmed me down to my toes. "The cranky retired cop who hates trying new things?"

I stood my ground, jutting up my chin in defiance. "Yes."