Forelsket

A put her logic over emotions, rationality over feelings, and used her head more than her heart.

At least, that was what she hoped.

She was never the type to laugh boisterously, weep in front of everyone, or give whoever was around her an easygoing smirk. She was never like that. The only emotion she showed, in fact, was either irritation or anger. Irritation when she didn’t have her usual dose of coffee, anger when she decided that everyone was just being plain ridiculous and needed some harsh words to their face. In the office, she was pretty much known as Ice – Ice Queen, Ice Princess (because some others thought that the title of ‘Queen’ belonged to Jean Onix) or just plain.

Because really, there was only one A in the office. All other people who had names that started with A had accepted the fact that really, she was the one who was the most identifiable with such a title.

And it followed. People called her ‘A’, ‘Agent A’, ‘Miss A’, but never really ‘Ms. Maxwell’ either. If they called her that, she would just send them a look (with the temperature decreasing bit by bit) and remind them that simply ‘A’ would do, and that they needed to skip the formality and screw the last name basis. She wasn’t like J, who demanded authority and radiated with an air of dominance wherever she went. A was there. She didn't like being in the spotlight, but she didn’t want to be spat on either. The Englishwoman didn’t have an aura of dominance, but instead, kept barriers around her that was chilling to the touch.

Chilling.

And she knew that, of course. That her reputation was, well, wasn’t bad but didn’t really attract people at the same time. Either way, she was alright with it. The less people involved in her life, she had decided years back, the less she would get hurt. A had learned that at a much younger age. As young as she was, those events were enough to make her stop in whatever she was doing.

Because all people, good or evil, had their drawbacks, their weaknesses, their Achilles’ heel. All people had that one piece of memory that they wished didn’t happen because it was either too embarrassing to speak about, or too traumatizing to get out of unscathed. But that, she thought, didn’t matter.

After all the past was in the past.

That was who she was.

Rational A, sophisticated A, icy A who preferred her coffee sweet and her meals light. She was, in truth, an enigma. They never really knew that feeling reflected in her green eyes, what each move she mad e meant. Hell, they never even knew if what she was saying was sarcastic or not. More often than not, it was. So that point was moot.

So why the hell, she thought, am I showing more than I should?

She couldn’t understand it at all.

Complexity of feelings were too much to comprehend, she decided, but all the feelings circulating in her system were too much to handle. They made her want to rip her hair out and scream, but sigh happily and play with her hair like a silly teenage girl at the same time. It was so reactive, so chemical…nearly radioactive, even. All the emotions were confusing and frustrating.

She blamed her hormones.

But they weren’t to blame.

She couldn’t blame her mind.

It was screaming for her to solve the goddamn problem.

And it wasn’t her co-workers, either.

They were surprisingly tolerable for the past couple of days.

A, after contemplating, had three to blame.

There was herself (perfectly plausible, since it was her after all).

There was her heart (because if not the mind, then the heart. Some logic, really).

And then there was him.

She could feel her cheeks heat up at the thought of the pronoun.

Him.

There were so many men in the world, but her heart immediately recognized who that certain person was and decided to do back flips and play a sonata with the beat.

It was always like that whenever he was around.

Every time his hand would touch hers, his eyes would gleam at her own, his lips would rise in a playful smirk – all her heart did was go pitter-patter and dance the swing as well while singing a cheesy love song only she would admit to know.

And as if that wasn’t deadly enough, there was his voice.

“Maybe you’d like to join me for a coffee sometime, A?”

She shamefully remembered her stuttery reply. Luckily for her, he grinned at that and ruffled her hair, commenting on how cute she was.

Additionally, she remembered being on cloud-nine for the rest of the day.

But that was months ago.

Her heart still did back flips and cartwheels, but it wasn’t the same as before. The was infatuation before, definitely. But now, all she wanted was to reveal herself layer by layer to him. Never had she wanted to do this to anyone else before. A gave a soft sigh.

She especially wanted for him to discover each and single one of her scars that lingered, even as the years had passed. She wanted him to realize how fractured she was, that she wasn’t all makeup and hair and slimness and leather. A found herself wishing that he didn’t see her that way – she wanted to be seen as three dimensional and not as a Barbie doll. Definitely, she wanted him to see her as human. Because she was human. Even if she tended to be flat and icy with other people, she still had a heart, as much as she didn’t want to show it. She was a living human with a soul that longed for another.

Longed for him.

Longed to love.

A almost rejected the thought.

Love and all its hardships.

The reason why she shut herself away in the first place.

And now, she wanted it.

She wanted its company.

She wanted to relish in the feeling.

She wanted to be in love with a man who couldn’t possibly love her back.

With a man who would most likely freak out at her cracks and stay away.

With a man that was perfect in every way that someone like her didn’t even deserve to know.

With a man.

With him.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there she was, in her office, contemplating and realizing that indeed, she was in love. All the small moments and conversations had led to this.

Was it even love, a small voice in her head asked, or infatuation?

She thought about that for some time.

Eventually, much, much later, she had decided.

Yes, it was love.

It was love because she was going to risk majority for a man who she could never have.

And the strange thing was, she wasn't bothered by it at all.