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( CHAPTER TEN )
SHE HADN'T MEANT TO SNOOP AROUND HIS STUFF. James had left his jacket in the bathroom last night, after changing into the spare clothes Arden had given him, and she only wanted to keep the place tidy and hang the consumed, dirty leather somewhere else. She was filled to the brim with nervous energy from what had happened the day before: she didn't want to face the new problem those men from A.I.M. had just stacked to her ongoing list. Sometimes that meant cleaning up a minuscule hotel room to avoid having whatever talk she knew James was about to give her.
The flyer had slipped from the pocket in a flurry of colors, an inevitable eye-catch. She wasn't fast enough to put it back where it belonged: James caught her red-handed as she stared down at the face of Captain America, mind scrambling to understand why the Winter Soldier would have his own enemy stashed securely in the pocket of his jacket.
Of course she didn't hear him come close. Arden flinched when her eyes met the ones of the man, but tried to tramp down the feeling of guilt rising up in her throat. She wasn't happy when James found her family picture, back at home, so she assumed he wouldn't be either.
"Sorry, it fell out," she admitted, but for some reason couldn't give him back the flyer.
"Why... what does Captain America have to do with your old identity?" Arden stared at him through her eyelashes, a little demure because she knew that James was easy to spook and dangerous when he didn't have the situation under control. Meddling could very well cost her whatever tentative relationship the two of them had established in their time spent together. He looked back with stormy eyes: she saw a flash of uncertainty in them, like even he didn't really know how to answer that. The way he looked so lost tugged at her heartstrings enough to make her throw caution to the wind.
"I could come with you!" Arden blurted out, then immediately cringed at her own spur-of-the-moment idea. He watched her with a flicker of confusion, as if he couldn't understand why she'd want to do that; she couldn't really blame him. Curiosity, of course, but any sane-minded person wouldn't decide to willingly chaperone the Winter Soldier through an exhibition of the man he had almost killed, multiple times, in a place full of cameras and civilians. It was also a good diversion to redirect his attention from A.I.M.
But she didn't want to lie to herself: now that the offer was out, she hoped James would accept and let her come with him, because he looked like he needed help, yes, but it was not about the metal arm strapped to his chest anymore.
Arden was in deep. She might as well go down all the way.
She thrust the flyer in his direction like a peace offering and waited with bated breath for his reply as they stared at each other. James looked down at the piece of paper between them briefly, before his eyes went back to her face, searching. For a lie maybe, a trap. Arden hoped he would understand the sincerity beneath the straight line of her mouth, the determination behind her fiery gaze.
