EIGHTEEN—A COVER BLOWN
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WHEN HE GOT out of the shower, I was in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes and frying bacon on the stove, desperately trying to forget our...compromising position in the shower only fifteen minutes ago. The way the water droplets dripped down his golden skin, inviting me to run my hand along his broad shoulders, graze my nails down his chest, let my fingers curl into his hair, and—

"Isn't it a little late for lunch?"

I jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. Keeping my face turned away from him, I overcompensated my action of checking on the bacon, looking a little too closely at the strips of meat to look natural. But I had to keep him from seeing my flushed cheeks, turning pink from being caught in the middle of such sinful thoughts. 

Having him here has really made my hormones go wild, I thought bitterly, and he doesn't even know it. 

"Uh, yeah, but I never brought you any today, so I'm guessing you're pretty hungry?" The toaster went off, four crispy pieces of toast popping up. I grabbed the bread and slathered mayonnaise on each piece, topping it with lettuce, two slices of tomato, and a few strips of bacon. I took the liberty to perform these actions as slow as possible, to give my face some time to cool down and return to its normal pallor. 

He paused before replying as if he was waiting for me to turn around with the plates. "You know, I've gone longer than that without eating," he said with a straight face but took the sandwich from me anyway. This time, it didn't take the normal time for Bucky to slowly sit down at the table; he did it of his own accord. I felt a smile tug at my lips upon seeing his growing comfort in the house, however small it was. 

"You know, maybe it's not a good idea to be eating out here where your parents could walk in and see me," he added, saying the words with such ease that I felt my heart clench. 

I shrugged. "I don't want to make you feel like a prisoner when you're here." Swallowing, I sent him a gentle smile. "You're not."

He stared back at me with blank eyes, no hint of the joking Bucky from twenty minutes ago. All I could see were the deep depths of his blue eyes, my own reflection swimming in them. His eyes stared me up and down, studying me, analyzing me. I ducked my head to avoid his penetrating gaze. 

Shaking his head, he said, "When do your parents leave?"

Shrugging again, I answered, "I thought they were going to leave yesterday, but it seems like they have no intention of leaving anytime soon." I looked up at him guiltily. "But I can force them out if you want me to."

Bucky chuckled breathily, his fingers tracing the lines of the wood on the table. "You don't have to do that for me."

"What if—"

The front door opened then, causing my parents to appear in the living room. From where we were sitting, Bucky only had a few seconds to hide before our cover was blown to shards. He left his plate sitting on the table, carrying his half-eaten BLT in his hand as he raced to his room, softly closing the door behind him. Jumping up, I grabbed the plate and proceeded to wash it in the sink, ignoring the fact that I had a perfectly good dishwasher just two feet away from the sink. But I needed to keep my hands busy if I was going to make my parents believe it was just me in the house. 

"Oh, Elda, you have to go to the farmer's market, it's just wonderful!" My mother sang her words as she waltzed into the kitchen with bags of what looked like fresh fruits and veggies. Her steps silenced, however, as she saw me washing two plates. "Having lunch with a friend, my dear?" She asked, her voice giving away her suspicion. Shit.

Using my not-so-quick brain skills, I made up a lie: "No, I was just really...hungry." I smiled sheepishly and held up the two plates. 

My mother's dark eyes landed on me, her lips curling down in a disappointed frown. It took all my willpower not to snap at her right then. Controlling my life and how I lived it was not her job anymore. In fact, it never should have been a part of her parenting...curriculum. 

She goes on, saying something about the groceries she just bought, telling me about how good they looked and other information that I just don't care about, leaving me to reflect on my last words with Bucky. If it weren't for my invasive parents barging in on us, I would have finished my sentence, answering his defeated statement. He didn't want me to do things for him, to take such risks, but I would have answered, what if I want to? What if I want to take those risks for you?

Goddamn, I was in deep. 

"Anyway, they're for you. We thought you might want some help buying groceries because you're so..." she looked around the room with a sneer of disgust, "busy all the time."

Blood boiling at her words, I let the plate clatter on the counter and turned around to face her. "Actually, I'm fine, Mom, thanks. Now that I think of it, it's been much longer than just a weekend. Maybe it's time you go back to your perfect little life in Arizona, don't you think?" My fists were clenched, so I crossed them in front of my chest, trying not to show how much her snarkiness affected me. 

She shrugged. "Yes, I can see how much we're interrupting your...relaxing life here."

"You really are," I snarled at her. "You can take your carrots and go."

My dad entered the room with his hands up. "Sheathe your claws, ladies," he said, a forced lightness to his voice that only made me roll my eyes harder. "We're all family here."

I shot him such a dark glare that he actually flinched. Good, I smirked to myself. 

"Elda's right," he turned to my mom, "it's about time we get going. Our neighbors are going to think we died on the plane ride here." Looking at me, he nodded in a civil manner. "I'm sure we can find a flight for the day after tomorrow, El. We'll only have to tolerate each other for another thirty-six hours."

Shaking my head and stalking to the stairs, I grumbled, "Fine. Just don't try to make it seem like we get along. There's no one around to impress. Feel free to take a stab at my unconventional lifestyle a few more times before you leave. That's all you seem to do, anyway."

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"They're leaving tomorrow," I whispered in the dark room, sitting in the desk chair beside Bucky's bed, where he was sitting up and listening to my frustrated rendition of the conversation the day before. Waiting into the wee hours of the morning, I balled up my anger and carried it into his room, gently waking him so I could unload it all in front of him. I knew that if I held it in, it would only turn out worse than this "surprise visit" already was. "Only twenty-four more hours to wait."

His eyes didn't leave the closed door. "You're happy." It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

I blinked. "Are you kidding? I can't wait. No more dirty looks at the way I organize my kitchen, or snide remarks at the way that I choose not to mirror their life choices. It's gonna be a great day when they get the hell out of my hair."

It was a second before he replied softly. "You know, I'm going to be glad to be able to walk around freely again, but at least you still have your parents. Mine have been gone for over eighty years."

My ears perked up at that, but then I sighed. "Sorry, I forgot about that. The whole, 'I was a murderous assassin for seventy years and preserved in ice like a piece of meat' was kind of lost on me."

He nodded. "Yeah, well...I'm glad you forgot about it. It's not the most appealing descriptor that I have." 

Catching myself with the words, you're a whole lot more than seventy years of destruction on my tongue, I blurted, "I'll let you go back to bed. I'll be up in my room if you need anything."

Nodding again, Bucky laid down under the sheets, flat on his back. "Goodnight, Elda."

If it wasn't pitch black in his room, maybe I would have stifled the wide smile that graced my lips at the sound of my name on his lips. It was intoxicating. Maybe I would have stopped myself from lingering at the door, looking at him laying there. The darkness always gives people courage, though. "Goodnight, Buck."

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The morning was going smoothly. I was in a bit of a lifted mood after my late-night conversation with Bucky. It was a little alarming, the way that he could change my mood merely with his presence. 

After breakfast, Mom had mentioned something about going around the house and collecting a few more old things to bring back to Arizona, an action that I'd granted without much more of a thought. So she was wandering in the hallway near Cade's old room when it happened. 

She had a few picture frames in her hand of my brother and me, a sentiment that might have made my heart burst with love for my mother if she wasn't such a disapproving bitch. 

I could hear it as soon as it happened. She'd walked up to Bucky's room, noting the closed door. "What did I tell you about closing the doors to empty rooms, El?" She called up to me while I was upstairs changing. I froze with one arm in my sleeve, my eyes wide as saucers. "It blocks fresh air flow."

Maybe it was a cliche, but everything did happen in slow motion. My clambering steps down the stairs to stop her from opening the door, seeing her face contort into an expression of utter shock as she took in the sight. As I approached the room, I turned to see what she was seeing: Bucky, in all of his one-armed glory, reaching for a shirt to cover his broad chest. And there he was, staring right back at me, his eyes wide like mine. 

My mother looked at me with such anger in her eyes that I couldn't help but meet her eyes. 

"What the hell is going on here?"

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OOOOOOOF SHE FOUND OUT ABOUT BUCKY AGHHHHHH 

i've legit been waiting to write this chapter for so long, i finally know where i'm going with this book and we're not just writing filler chapters anymore! okay, that's a lie, there will most likely be some filler chapters in there. but let's talk about the fact that elda's kind of developing a crush on buck!! like, finally, bish get in there!!

also, my birthday is in a few days! july 8, people! put it in your calendars!!! lol, i'm joking. i'm also hoping that i can update this story more frequently, as i always feel so bad for it being once a week. i just get busy or daydream and never get anything written. it probably doesn't help that my parents are in my face about going out and doing stuff all the time, so i can never get anything done. oh well, we'll figure it out.

okay, this is almost 2,000 words, so i hope you guys enjoyed it. see you next time!

published on: july 5, 2018