I don't like to analyze my life. I'm a "live in denial" kinda girl. But when you are on the verge of death, your mind works so fast that everything you've ever done, every regret you have slaps you in the face without remorse.

As I laid pinned to the ground, face shoved into the pavement, I thought of my parents and it was the image of them that made me cry out when I got my breath back. "Don't be such a drama queen. You're fine." The man protested.

But I wasn't. Everything in the world made me scared and all this man had done was make it something I couldn't hide from anymore. The fragile image of the world I had built in my head shattered.

"LET ME GO!" I yelled. He tsked, as if he was addressing a child. "Not until I've had my say." He shoved me, forcing me to turn over and look up at him, his features still in the dark. The man stared down, foot on my collarbone. "You've been given a gift. One that was meant to be shared. And you've turned it into something that only you can enjoy."

I gritted my teeth, trying to think of a way out. I couldn't focus past the panic that filled my chest. I answered carefully, not wanting to provoke this clearly deranged person. "I don't understand."

"Didn't you get the last message?" he asked playfully.

Chills ran down my spine and all breath left my body. This was the man who had been in my house. The one who had left a note for me in lipstick on the mirror. "You—." I said but was cut off when he adjusted his foot and put pressure on my throat.

"Now now, if you aren't going to thank me for putting you on the right path, it is better to not say something you will regret." His voice was clear, every word carefully pronounced, every syllable enunciated with care. 

I began to see spots. I didn't understand. What had I done? What was he claiming I change?

"Shit!" The man glared down the alley. Then he offered me a dangerous smile and whispered, "do better," before disappearing into the night.

Another figure came into my field of vision. A pair of blue eyes found mine. He saw the terrified look on my face, one I didn't care to hide, and instead of chasing after the man, he knelt down and gingerly helped me sit up. 

He crouched before me, beautiful blue eyes staring into mine with a force that should have been illegal. If there was a way to make eyes less intense by filling out a pile of stressful paperwork, I would have happily stood in line to make that happen.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, scanning me for potential injuries, eyes sparking with concern.

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine," I replied, looking away. 

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked, killing all potential butterflies that had worked their way into my stomach at the sight of him.

Clearly, he is terrible at the knight in shining armor dialogue. I stared back at him, suddenly seething with rage.

There are different types of anger. Some wrap-around, transforming you in the span of a single moment like you've become the Hulk, but if the Hulk was a warlock that could destroy the world with words and glares chorded in magic. That kind of anger doesn't sneak up on you. It hits you like a ton of bricks. It's all-consuming.

Then there is the type of anger that is filled with disbelief. Exasperation because you are thrown into a position to either stand your ground and fight for your opinion with every last breath or yield. This kind of anger can fizzle out just as quickly as it hits you. It isn't as concrete. It's more a spike of will and rage.

The third is a calculated one. It is built up over YEARS. A stronghold of memories of how someone has wronged you. Evidence that feels a mile high. It's strong, and brings a set of deadly focus, and is terrifying. It's the most poisonous kind because even if the person wants to make things right with you, it's too late in your mind because you've wasted too many years hating them.

Then there is the 'I AM SO FLUSTERED AND UNHEARD THAT I AM GOING TO EITHER SCREAM OR CRY!' anger type. The problem with this fourth option is how unstable it hits you. It doesn't make you feel strong like option one, or passionate about your position like option two, or calculated and focused like option three. No. In my opinion, it is the MOST USELESS AND EMBARRASSING kind. And number four is the one that I had landed on as I stared up at Aiden with a look that was half furious and half-filled with despair.

Tears filled my eyes and I wiped them away in a frenzy as I continued to glare up at him, refusing to show how embarrassed I was. "What was I thinking?!? I didn't do anything wrong!" 

"You ditched me and climbed out the window! That's insane," he replied, his hard tone betraying his calm exterior. 

"So what if it is insane!" I countered. "I spend every day writing by myself. Going to events by myself. Living by myself. My job is all about being alone. And then I get you—." I laughed bitterly, the words spilling out of my mouth like a raging waterfall of feelings I couldn't stop. "You who are a shadow that's supposed to follow me around. And like some idiot, I think 'great I'll have someone I can talk to. Someone that will make things a little less isolating.'"

I closed my eyes. "But you've just made things worse." I stood up and dusted off my dress, aware that no amount of hand wiping would fix the muddied material. "I didn't tell you where I was going because I didn't want another reminder hovering around me like a cloud of inevitable death that I was alone!"

"But you were alone, Summers," he replied, anger entering his tone. "You talk about not wanting to be alone, but you refuse to take me with you when you need it most!" 

I took a step towards him, arms flying up in exasperation. "I just wanted some fresh air. I didn't think I'd get hurt by just..." I paused, hands waving faster as I tried to find the right words. "...taking a moment alone! A moment where I actually CHOSE to be alone instead of it being forced upon me!" 

Then, feeling brave, I poked him in the chest. "If you didn't have your stupid rules, or were at least MODERATELY FLEXIBLE," my voice grew louder. "I'D PROBABLY CLUE YOU IN! BUT YOU DON'T CARE! YOU CRAZY STATUE OF STARES AND UNCARINGNESS!"

My monologue was far from well-versed, which is why I was a writer and not a public speaker. But I could see by the look of surprise that filled his eyes that I had somewhat struck a chord.

Aiden ran his fingers through his hair and let out an uneasy sigh as a heated silence filled the alley. The air was thick and full of unspoken thoughts on his side. Then Aiden pulled out his phone and punched in a number.

"It's Aiden." He stared down the alley where the man had disappeared. "Ms. Summers needs an adjustment to her contract." He shrugged off his suit jacket as he listened to the response.

"Yes," Aiden shot me a look. "She would like to have more communication..." He placed his phone against his shoulder, his ear holding it in place. Then he put his suit jacket over my shoulders, suddenly enveloping me with warmth and the smell of citrus and musky earth. Stupid Aiden and his stupid nice smelling jacket. And his stupid face. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"...and I agree," Aiden finished as he stepped back from me.

"She has a habit of getting into trouble." Geeze, thanks.

"Send the updated contract over to Sanders in the morning," Aiden finished, then hung up and looked down at me, his gaze less sharp, replacing the storm in his eyes with a calm sea.

"I'm sorry." The phrase had a decent amount of pain and regret behind it. "You made it clear what you wanted from me, and I should have listened to that." I blinked, half to clear my vision and half to try and compute his words. 

Aiden continued, a strange look crossing his face. "I'm not often asked to be more vocal." He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming uncomfortable. "To be someone seen or heard. That isn't normally part of my job. And I assumed you were just messing with me."

I shook my head, baffled. "Who does that? Who gets a bodyguard and tries to get him to talk as a prank?"

He offered me a quirk of his lips, a near smile. "You'd be surprised how often things change from moment to moment in my job. And how often the people who are hired to protect are the ones that get hurt by the ones they are protecting." The ghost of a smile disappeared. "I'll try and be more conversational."

"And I'll try and not talk your ear off," I replied, not fully believing what I was hearing, but not wanting to lose the progress. "Or yell at you... or ditch you by climbing out the bathroom window," I finished. Dang, I sound crazy. 

He snatched up my shoes from the ground and paused. His eyes found the blood on one of the heels from where I had stabbed the man. "Quick thinking. In the right hands, these things can be deadly."

I snorted and then clamped my mouth shut, suddenly embarrassed. But Aiden didn't seem to notice my dorky laugh. "Good to know these things are useful for something other than falling. I'll add a knife to each heel next time."

"So long as you don't trip and impale yourself," he responded, with a shrug. 

I couldn't decide if he was joking with me, or at my expense, so I said nothing. Always better to stay quiet than to react and realize later that you had NO idea someone was making fun of you. I had learned that one the hard way.

"Let's get you home," Aiden said, his tone warm. 

I nodded. The truth was, I had no interest in reentering the premier looking like I just landed the lead in a horror movie or a girl who had just climbed out of a gutter. "But we need to talk about these notes you've been getting. Because whoever the stalker is, seems to just be getting started."

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What is your favorite smell? The smell of freshly cut grass? The smell of rain? Chocolate? Something else?