Why did it have to be you?

Poised, serious, authoritative. You were someone who didn’t even need a statement as you walked in the briefing room. You weren’t here to play nice, nor to build rapports.

You were exactly what the 141 needed. After Laswell’s absence, her cousin was called for a temporary replacement, but sure your presence demanded attentions. Despite the cold professionalism, there was something provocative about you, about the way you held yourself, about the strong and attractive femininity in a base where majority of the soldiers were men.

But none of them were caught off guard like Simon.

You came in with strict orders, every word harsh and measured, every command on point — something Simon didn’t care for. He never liked displayed authority, not from anyone. And yours was irritatingly getting to him.

It was a clash from the start, your personalities collided like two opposing poles. You didn’t enjoy fools, and he certainly didn’t enjoy being ordered around.

But as they say: opposites attract.

Missions unfolded, tension grew, stirring something unexpected that none understood. Beneath the masks of professionalism, hid unspoken attraction. But how in the hell did this happen?

The aftermath of a mission was just how you had imagined; left in the briefing room, only you and Simon remained, too exhausted to speak a word. The others had gone, there was a lingering silence as he sat on one of the chairs, vulnerable and tired. But as much as he hated it, he couldn’t hide the emotions displayed in his hazel irises as he watched you get closer to him with a hidden smirk, the click of your heels ricocheting in the room.

One step too close, the tension crumbled.

A low groan erupted from his throat, eyes narrowing as he looked up at you, a hand wrapping around your ankle, halting your foot just as you raised his shirt with your heels. How irritating of you to always come to work looking so pretty.

“Are you always a person of a few words?” He remarked, his thumb brushing over your skin.