𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰

6 - Distances.

He didn’t kiss her first. She did. Though she still wonders if it counted, if it seemed real.

What did he do instead?

He pulled her into his arms—the gesture completely unblemished from the stains of lust and want—just comfort. Just warmth. Just the ghostly feel of his lips pressed against her hair, just the sensation of what she needed.

What she longs for.

Elsa could stay cocooned there, relishing everything he has to give while those precious eyes can watch her without a hint of greed, green irises softening out of concern. Her heart was too prickled with the sharp sensation of urge, there was only so much she could deny.

It wasn’t just plain attraction, it was beyond that. It was something she kept discarding every day, each time he arrives first in the office and his smile would reach far higher than his dimples, because he got to see her arrive before it would deepen the meaning of the quickening pulses in her chest.

Claire’s clearly fond of him. She could tell he is relentless to the toddler’s wishes, not to keep up with her good graces, though while he isn’t doing it to earn her attention she does find it very, very endearing. Her little girl is usually wary of men approaching her with idiotic intentions, yet even Claire sensed the difference Aiden resembled.

Scared. The word is abrupt, since she is especially scared things may go downhill once she tells him that perhaps things have become real. Her formulated act of camouflage is basically beginning to be her simply indulging herself with what she wants more of.

She wants it real.

She wants it to naturally fall into place.

She wants him.

But what if it was only real in her perspective alone? What if she’s beginning to look like a fool who listened to the imaginary rather than what really there is?

He was a clean canvas before she became the paint to make the abstract shapes she cannot understand either. She felt his arms all before; when she pulled him to her own mess. When he comforted her and whispered to her ears it wasn’t her fault but damn it was.

He’s different.

He’s the first Aiden.

Wasn’t he?

Elsa has always despised the silence between them. Her mouth was tempted to gather up the courage to even say a simple “How are you?” but she couldn’t, she just couldn’t. Instead she’ll find herself gripping the hem of her skirt, keeping her eyes on the steaming coffee that always seemed to be present by her desk as he stayed there at her side, keeping his lips zipped unless he had to remind her of an incoming appointment.

If only the silence could be more.

“You like Noah Gundersen?”

That ought to snap her out of her reverie. Her eyes abandoned the crisp papers and her nose left the foggy scent of ink as she nearly fell off her chair to find emerald green orbs locked on hers.

“The Clockmaster, good taste,” Aiden had a toothy grin, “Glad to know there’s still a fellow bookworm around.”

She didn’t believe in miracles until now.

“Real books still exist, you know,” She joked. Thank goodness she’s articulating the right things.

Aiden smiled and felt a little more confident, “May I?”

For once reluctance was absent in her words.

“Sure.”

Aiden pulled out a seat and sat next to her, “Which chapter are you reading?” He curiously asked.