Old Soul (Captain America/Steve Rogers)

2

Steve lifts my couch as easily as I lift a pen—and I'm talking about the ballpoint kind. Now with a bulkier, fancier kind of pen, I might struggle a bit. I was made of nothing but thin limbs. In high school, I was always more of a track runner than a basketball player.

I managed to drag my chairs up the stairs as Steve carried the heavier items, which was almost everything in the truck. He did most of the work, and completed it faster than I could carry one box.

He grabbed the second to last item, hauling it upstairs as I grabbed the last item. It was just a simple dining chair. It shouldn't be that hard for me to carry.

I picked it up the best I could, making my way up the stairs. Steve, who had already set down his box of books, bounded down the steps as I advanced them. He skidded to a stop as he saw me carrying the chair.

"Do you need help?" he offered, reaching to take it without waiting to hear my answer.

I dodged his grasp. "I think I got this one," I tell him, even though I feel myself slowly losing balance.

I trudge passed him on the stairs confidently, but he follows me up anyways. "Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say with a shake of my head. "I got th-"

My words choke in my mouth as the toe of my sneaker fails to grip slips the wooden steps of the apartment building's stairs. The rubber sole slips with a loud squeak, and I let out a shriek as my feet fall out from under me.

I panic, the breath escaping my mouth and the chair falling from my hands. I feel the wind rush away from under me—a feeling I know all too well. Klutz, I mentally curse myself.

All I could think about was the wooden stairs, and how my head would surely be busted open on them. I would break several bones as I tumble down. I would have to go to the emergency room. I wouldn't be able to go to work in the morning. I...

I  squeeze my eyelids shut, ready for the impact to come. But it never does. Instead, a pair of strong arms wrap around my torso. When I finally catch my breath from shock, slowly reaching my bearings again, I realize my back is pressed up against something hard and muscular.

"Steve," I exclaim, sighing relief. My head spun. I could hardly register everything, it had happened so fast. "I...Oh, my God, Thank you!"

"It's no problem," he says from behind me, his voice in my ear. I can feel his chest vibrate from behind me as he speaks.

Then, realizing with a start that I'm still in his arms, I blush and pull away. I lurch forward and grab the railing, even though I was reluctant. But I had to, for I knew that if I didn't leave his arms, I never would've. They feel so warm and safe.

And yet, he's just a stranger.

But then again, he doesn't feel like a stranger. He's just so....familiar. I just can't place my finger on it.

"Are you okay?" Steve questions with concern, setting a hand on my waist as I regain my balance.

I shake it off. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Steve holds out the hand that wasn't on my waist, revealing his grip on the chair that I had dropped.

"Your chair is, too," he says.

I gasp. "How did you catch us both?"

Steve shrugs modestly. "It's no big deal."

And maybe to him, it isn't. Maybe he does things like this everyday. He's so kind that I wouldn't be surprised if I learned that he rescues kittens from trees during his lunch break.

I continue up the stairs, Steve closely behind me with the chair in tow. When we reach my apartment, Steve sets down the chair next to the other furniture.

"That's all of it," I say, turning to him. "Thank you so much for helping me. I don't know how I will return the favor."

"There's no need to return it," he says, and then with a smile, "It's a present, remember?"

I laugh, nodding my head. "Yeah, but I really should do something in return. Anything you want, anything at all." I can't help but laugh slightly as I look at him, feeling like a school girl again.

It was silent for a second as Steve thought, a nervous look on his face. "How about a cup of coffee?"

Inside, that same school girl side of me screams. Is he asking me out? OH MY GOSH!

No, the adult inside of me argues, being a realist. You are neighbors now, he just wants to get to know you. Don't flatter yourself.

"Sure," I say. "I'd love that."

"Great," Steve replies, his nervous expression turning into a smile. "Tomorrow morning, then?"

I nod. "Tomorrow morning."

We bid each other goodbyes, Steve walking to his apartment next door, and me jumping around excitedly in mine in disbelief. Steve Rogers, a guy so kind and gentlemanly—not to mention handsome and heroic—asked me out for coffee.

As promised in the brochures, New York really is a magical city!

- - -

For the rest of the afternoon, I unload my boxes. Steve had already placed the furniture where I wanted it earlier, so all I have to do is decorate.

I start with the kitchen, putting all of the cups and plates and whatnot into cabinets. I am a very organized person, and my OCD forces me to label each cabinet and drawer.

Next, I unpack my clothes, cracking open the box of hangars to hang them in my closet. Then I fold my tank tops, underwear, socks, bras, and pajamas and place them in my dresser.

Then I spread the bedding out over my mattress, decorating the pillows along the headboard.

I set up my floor lamp, side table, mirrors, pictures, bookcase and jewelry box just like it was back at home. I sigh as I look around my new room, noticing how is looks just like my old one. But it doesn't feel like my old one. Strangely, it feels better.

It must be the fact that I'm on my own now. That, and maybe the fact that I live next door to an actual Greek Adonis—but it's mostly the living on my own thing.

After I finish my bedroom, I realize that it was eight o'clock. It took me five hours to decorate. Yikes.

Looking at the time makes me realize how tired I am, and it also helps me remember that I have my first day at work tomorrow!

I make my way to my new bathroom and unpack the boxes that belong in there. I set everything up and take a shower.

I let the water run down my back, which is actually warm. I thank myself for turning on my electricity ahead of time.

Then I swipe a towel, drying myself off and throwing on a big t-shirt. I lay out my outfit for my first day at work, air drying my hair as I do so.

And once everything that need to be done is done and my hair is all dry, I climb into bed. Moving to the city alone was a huge risk for me, and my parents tried to convince me not to go. But I have been living here for just a day, and I am already loving New York and the new life I have established.

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Okay, guys, this was just a quick update because I'm not done writing for tonight and I wanted to give you more chapters to sample before you start to judge.

And please, feel free to judge and give me feedback. I would like to know your thoughts and if you think this is a bad story or not.

Thanks,

1FanGirlGeek