The second time Aiden swept through my apartment, eyes taking in everything like the freaking Eye of Sauron from the "Lord of the Rings," was a much different and far less embarrassing experience.

For one, the apartment was clean, and two, I was too tired to watch him analyze my life in apartment form. Instead, I slumped down on a barstool at my kitchen counter, enjoying the feeling of the cool tile top on my face.

"Summers," Aiden said, cutting across my lone kitchen light, and casting me in shadow. "All clear."

"Thanks," I mumbled, continuing to stare off at a random spot on the wall, from where my head lay on the countertop.

When the shadow didn't move, I peeked up at him. "Did you want something? If not, I'm pretty sure I don't need a bodyguard to watch me sleep." He held something small out towards me and after several blinks, a white washcloth came into focus.

"For your wrist," he replied to my unspoken question.

I looked down and saw a small circular bruise along my wrist where the man had grabbed me. I took the washcloth that was filled with ice and placed it against my skin, wincing at the pain. "Thanks," I murmured staring down at the washcloth, feeling so touched by the small gesture that I couldn't bring myself to look up at him. It was always the small things that hit home for me. The ones that to most went unnoticed.

A scrape of a chair broke my mental monologue and I looked up to find Aiden settling down in another barstool across from me. "Um... Can I help you?" I asked, startled by the idea of him spending more than five minutes in my apartment.

He didn't fit into the world I had built, so seeing him sitting across from me like he was completely comfortable in my universe was a strange and foreign sight.

"I hope so," Aiden replied. "You've proven to be harder to watch than the Jonas Brothers at a concert. And I don't mean listening to their music. Boy band fans are terrifying."

A grin caught me by surprise, bringing a smile to my lips. Aiden was funny! But I wasn't sure if he was even aware of his own comedy stylings. It made it charming instead of cocky.

Forcing my brain to halt in its tracks, I tapped the countertop to have something to do. I refused to go down a dangerous mental path that resulted in me thinking of Aiden as more than just a pretty face that kept me safe. Nope. Nope. Nope. ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NOPE.

"I need to get a good picture of who this stalker is." Aiden leaned back, taking me in with his crisp blue eyes. "But I can wait if you want to get changed."

I stared down at myself and laughed. "Yeah, good idea." I was tired of looking like a horror show. Standing up, I moved to my bedroom door before turning back around. "Um... help yourself to..." Did I have anything for him to drink?

"To a Pop-Tart?" he suggested.

I shot him an annoyed glance. "Sure. Or a glass of water or something." He looked away, but I caught a hint of a smirk before he turned to stare up at my bare cabinets.

Shutting the door, I quickly hopped out of my dress and took the fastest shower of my life. Say what you want about girls taking long, never-ending showers. But when we want to, we are crazy fast. And I suddenly had a very good reason. I didn't like being naked with Aiden so close by. Hence the lightning-fast shower.

Changing into a large yellow and black flannel, and a pair of sweatpants, I pulled my wet hair up into a messy bun and walked back out into the living room.

I was surprised to find Aiden nursing a cup of tea in a Pluto mug, the sleeves of his buttoned-up white shirt rolled up to his forearms, revealing muscles that were most likely meant to protect more than distract. But they were unhelpfully distracting at the moment. Stupid illegal muscles.

His eyes were staring down at a notebook, scanning a set of scribbles that were too small for me to see from where I stood. After a moment of silent staring, he spoke without looking up. "The view is better over here."

My entire body blushed. I didn't even know that was possible. I had been caught openly staring at him, like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar. But he wasn't some cookie for me to have, and that feeling was somehow FAR WORSE.

Looking up, Aiden lifted his notebook. "You wanted to see what I was looking at, you can read it over here."

Oh my gosh... the dude is oblivious. He had no idea I had been ogling him. I had never been so thankful for this level of cluelessness in my entire life. Laughing, I offered up a shrug. "I'm gonna get myself something to drink first."

Aiden pushed a second mug across the counter as I reached the kitchen. It was filled with hot chocolate. "You didn't strike me as a tea person," he said over his own cup. "Anyone who willingly picks Pop-Tarts as their choice breakfast seems to land more in the world of sweet and creamy than in the world of spices and leaves."

I laughed, picking up my mickey mouse mug and enjoying the warmth that filled my forever frozen fingertips. "I didn't even know I had tea."

He took a long sip, adam's apple bobbing as he did. "You don't. I carry some."

"Seriously?" I asked, moving over to my plush chair in the living room. Tucking my legs underneath me, I settled down, finally comfortable for the first time that day.

"The hours are long," Aiden replied sitting down on the edge of the couch across from me. "You learn to have a few things on hand." I took a large sip of my hot chocolate, enjoying the familiar warmth that filled my belly.

Aiden set down his mug on a side table. "When did you start getting the notes?"

So the game of stalker twenty questions begins...

I took a large breath, steadying myself. "Six months ago."

Aiden nodded, "Anything significant about that time?"

I blushed again, staring down at the pattern of black and yellow that made up my warm flannel. I didn't want to talk about myself. "It was right after my second book started to do well." Aiden stayed silent, waiting for me to continue. It was like he knew there were things I hadn't said. Details I was omitting.

"Right after my second book hit the New York Times Best Sellers List. Everywhere I looked, someone was reading it."

I tugged on a strand of my blond hair self-consciously. "It was weird seeing what I had written scattered across LA like that." It had been a strange out-of-body experience. Hearing people discuss it, eyes light up as they read it. Seeing it in bookstores.

It was amazing and terrifying because I was so afraid that every head would eventually turn, eyes angry, and tell me how much they hated it. Tell me I had wasted my life and theirs by tricking them into reading it.

"What did the note say?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Can I ask you something?"

Aiden leaned back, picked up his mug, and nodded before taking a sip.

I took a moment to think through the millions of questions I had for him and started with the one I thought I would have the best luck getting answered. "Have you always been a bodyguard?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to the conversation."

I finished my hot chocolate, because yes I drank the entire thing in twenty seconds. That's what chocoholics did. They loved chocolate to a passionate degree and needed to have it all. Then I put my mug down and stared at Aiden, my face serious. "Well, that's just it. This doesn't feel like a conversation. If I am going to be spending endless hours with you—.

"Thanks," Aiden replied dryly.

"—Then I should know who you are," I finished. "It's an easy question anyway."

He sighed, finger tapping his mug as he lifted it to his lips in contemplation. "You said you would try to be more conversational," I added.

"Fair," he relented. "No. I haven't always been a bodyguard. Now my turn, what did the note say?"

I paused, pretending to think. Pretending that the first words the stalker left were not burned to the inside of my eyelids like a curse on my soul. "Your life decisions are disappointing. You won't get much farther. Fans are just smiles. They can turn deadly from one moment to the next."

I gripped my empty mug, fingers shaking. I felt scarred by the words I just spoke aloud. Like I had just uttered an incantation that turned my mouth to ash. "What was your first job?" I asked, needing a distraction.

"I worked at a dry cleaner," Aiden replied. "Do you have any enemies?"

I shook my head. "I don't think so."

"Did you keep any of the notes the stalker sent?"

I shook my head. "My turn to ask a question."

Aiden ran his fingers through his hair. "This will take forever if you insist on asking me pointless questions about my life," his tone had gone from cordial to flat-out irritated.

I offered an empty laugh. "Wow. Sad that you think your life is pointless."

I probably shouldn't have provoked him, but I was desperate. I didn't want to go back to the notes. I would rather have risked angering Aiden than go back to the words that had left me spiraling, questioning my life choices to a soul-crushing degree.

But I probably could have explained that better than verbally poking him like he was some science experiment. Or a nurse who couldn't find someone's vein while trying to take their blood.

"Hardly," Aiden replied, the word clipped. "Just ask your damn question."

"How long have you lived in Los Angeles?" I asked. He was a wall of mystery. An attractive staring statue of silence that hadn't been open to talking until half an hour ago. And I was going to exploit that for all it was worth.

Aiden paused, letting out a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "I lived here until I was eighteen, then I enlisted. After serving, I did a few other things before I moved back six months ago."

It was the most amount of information I had gotten out of him so far and it left me feeling proud... until he asked me another question about the notes.

"Do you have the notes and if so, I'd like to see them."

I raised a brow. "Technically that is a two-part question," I pointed out.

"Summers," Aiden warned, rubbing his temples. "Please for all that is holy in this world... just answer the question."

"I do have the notes," I replied, making no move to stand up. "Do you have any siblings?"

"No," Aiden responded, standing up, clearly at his limit.

"No siblings? Or no you won't answer the question?" I asked staring up at him.

Aiden plucked up his mug and strode to the kitchen. "Whatever gets me out of this stupid game of twenty questions," he replied, washing out his mug. Then he turned and leveled me with a stare, his brows furrowed, causing a small dimple to form between his eyebrows. He began to dry his mug with a towel. "I don't understand you. You are in danger, yet you refuse to let me help you. Why?"

"I didn't ask for your help," I answered, angry.

"That is clear. It seems that Sanders cares more about your life than you do," he replied, placing the mug on top of the towel to dry.

"That's not fair," I answered, standing up.

"Isn't it?" Aiden tilted his head to the side, trying to read me. "You were attacked twice since I've known you, which has been for a total of fourteen hours by the way." He walked around the kitchen counter. "Someone broke into your apartment last night." He stopping several feet from me. "And you refuse to answer my questions. Questions that could help save your life."

I balled my hands into fists. "Just because I don't want to do things your way doesn't mean I am wrong. You assume that because I don't easily give you all the answers you want that I have an unhealthy view of my own self-worth."

"You need to trust that I know what I am doing."

I crossed my arms. "I don't know you Aiden. Like you said, I've known you for fourteen hours. Trust is earned. Not bought with a contract."

Oh crap.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted it. He was just trying to do his job and hadn't asked for such a broken and terrified person to look after. I suck. He's probably gonna quit and I don't blame him.

He winced, like my words nicked him. I had drawn emotional blood.

And in a flash, his face went blank. All emotion washing away and leaving behind a blank canvas like he had never looked wounded by my words. Aiden walked over to the couch silently and picked up his small notebook. Writing something down, he ripped out a page and put it down on the side table.

Aiden walked towards the front door. "I recommend you put those numbers into your phone." Then without a word, he shut the door quietly behind him, leaving me standing alone, torn between guilt and frustration. For a writer, my life is way too dramatic.

---

What are your go-to comfy clothes? Are you like Laliana and all about that flannel and sweatpants?