Keira's POV
I jolted up at the sound of my phone ringing, the tone blaringly loud since I had turned the ringer to full volume. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, I noticed the time read 8 a.m. and I ran a hand through my long light brown annoyed at whoever it was calling this early in the morning…on a Saturday. I grabbed my phone and slid the touchscreen arrow over to answer the phone, sleep still apparent in my voice.
"Keira MacPherson?" a female voice answered my sleepy 'hello'.
"Speaking, how can I help you?"
"This is Gloria Williamson, from the bookstore the other night. I'm calling because you signed up for the pen pal event. We have selected the person who you'll be corresponding with and we would like you to come in when you're available," the voice explained, my memory clearing up with last night's impulsive decision. My heart pounded in my chest with excitement but also nervousness at the thought of corresponding with some stranger.
"Right. Is there a specific time I need to be there by? I remember you said that the guys were coming in the evening," I commented. I threw off the covers and placed my feet on the cold hardwood floor of my apartment, padding over to my closet to decide on what to wear on today's outing.
"We need you here by four in the afternoon. Don't rush to get down here now if you have other priorities. We realize that you're probably a very busy individual. If you can't make it in today, don't worry. We'll hold your information until you can swing by to pick it up," Gloria informed me.
"No worries. I'll be down at the bookstore in a few minutes. It'll be my first stop before I have to do any other errands of the day. I'm a little nervous about what to write so most likely I'll be thinking about it all day," I mentioned, pawing through my wardrobe, nothing standing out straight away. Gloria laughed, a melodic tone to it that put my mind at ease somewhat.
"Don't stress too much about it. Try being yourself. Tell them about the last exciting thing that happened to you in the last few days. Ask about interests and talk about yours. Let things flow. Can't go wrong with that,"
"I guess so. I'll see you soon," I told her.
"We'll be here. Oh, and Keira, there are other young ladies here picking up their correspondents so it'll be a little crowded when you get here," She told me, before hanging up, the conversation ended. Tossing my phone on the bed, I turned back to the closet, deciding on wearing a simple black t-shirt, dark blue jeans and black converse to match. I changed and pulled back my hair into a pony tail, adding a touch of makeup; thin black eyeliner, a gold eye-shadow that brought the olive green of my eyes, and pink lip gloss that added shine to my full lips. It didn't bring too much attention my face and it was simple enough for the day ahead of me.
Grabbing my keys to the apartment as well as my car keys, I headed out, the bookstore my first destination of the day. I went to the elevator on my floor and rode it to the lobby of my building and left for the complex's parking lot, finding my car with ease. I drove down to the bookstore, gasping at the crowd of people currently inside of the building. Gloria really wasn't kidding, as there was a huge line of girls gathered around the café when I walked in. I physically had to push my way through the sea of women to reach the table where the two hosts of the event were sitting, frantically passing out envelopes to the girls.
Most of them were angry at whatever was written on the envelopes, making me think that their correspondents were dull to them or that maybe they didn't get the name they wanted when looking at the list. I didn't care who I got because I knew that Frank and Gloria would have chosen the best person for me based on who they met as they all signed up for this event. Some of the girls were squealing and shouting with delight and I heard some of their outbursts as I shoved through them, elbows nearly colliding with my face.
"Captain America signed up! I want him!"
"No, he's mine,"
"You can't have him. I'd make a better pen pal for him,"
"He's so dreamy. Can I have him?"
These were only some of the ones I heard from the women surrounding the café. I had heard of the Avengers but I hadn't really seen them since I strayed away from the news; too much chaos going on the world that I didn't want to see or hear about. It was too depressing to listen to, so I chose not to. Whoever Captain America was had these women lusting after him in ways I hadn't thought possible. I mean, they were physically and verbally assaulting each other to see whom they got, frowning when they got their envelopes as the name didn't match up to the famous Avenger.
"I wonder if any other Avengers signed up. I would love to write to Thor too,"
"Me too. Although I'd love to write to any of them as long as it's not the Winter Soldier. I hear that he's much too dangerous to interact with,"
"That's true but I also wouldn't want to write to Stephen Strange either. When he got in that accident, his hands were ruined and now they're all scarred. Who would want to be with him?"
Ah, cruelty at it's finest. I knew who the Winter Soldier was. How could you not with his face plastered everywhere on the news that one year, but I thought that it was a misunderstanding, a framing that he had nothing to do with. What I had learned of his past, I had also found more about him during a trip to the Smithsonian in Washington D.C. and to me he didn't seem all that bad. These women didn't know him for who he was, just decided to make judgments before fully getting to know someone.
As for Stephen Strange, the infamous former neurosurgeon, I knew he could be arrogant and narcissistic but I thought he had mellowed out a little after the accident; again someone I didn't know personally but I did my best not to judge based on reputation. People could fool you and turn out to be completely different than what you heard or saw.
I forced myself through two groups of women arguing over Captain America again. This is what I heard from them:
"You have to give me Captain America,"
"No, me,"
"He'll like me better,"
More demands from them, more disappointed faces, even tears from them. Come on, you can't always get what you desire. Just deal with whom you have and move on or choose not to write to them. It's not mandatory, I thought as I edged my way to the table, breathing hard from all the shoving through I had done. I heard a loud slap, wincing when I turned back to see a woman slapping another woman. Clearly people were distressed enough to resort to violence.
"Keira! I recognize those eyes of yours. They really stood out when you came in last night. Come with me. I'd really love to be able to talk to you without all this yelling," Gloria spotted me, taking my arm and leading me to a quieter part of the store, away from the shouting.
"That's some crowd. They're all going crazy over Captain America. Must be one sweet guy," I told her, earning a giggle out of her.
"Yeah, he's something all right. He stopped by here last night and practically begged for us to wait until he made some purchases so he could sign up for the event. They all think they'd be the perfect matches for him but I chose someone else for him. Anyways, here's your pen pal's information. I think you'll really like him. Remember; try to be yourself as much as you can. Don't overthink things. Just write whatever you feel like you can," Gloria replied, handing me my envelope with Steve Rogers and the address to his apartment or house written on it.
"Thank you for this. I hope everyone else will be happy with theirs, though from the look of things they seem disappointed. I fear for whoever has Captain America. It seems like these girls might tear him apart if they ever met," I stated.
"Oh, I'm sure they'll be okay. He'll be fine with the one he's been given. She's a real sweet girl. Thank you for signing up and good luck," She said, winking at me as she walked back up to the crowded café. I waved goodbye and browsed the store for a few more minutes, picking up another stack of books before leaving the store to run a few errands.
I returned home, put away the groceries I picked up and placed my newly purchased book on the ever-growing stack on the floor. I needed to get a bookshelf soon because the ones on the floor were getting dusty. I hoped my schedule would die down enough in order to run to a furniture store to select one that would go with my room. I pulled the envelope that had my pen pal's name on it and walked over to my office, placing it on my desk with my notebooks. With it sitting there, the anxiety returned and I paced the room as I thought about how to construct my first letter to Steve. I didn't realize that I had been given Captain America, the two names not matching up in my head. I wouldn't know that I'd be falling for him until I had fallen for the man behind the name. It hit me then what to tell him and I sat down to write, the ending of the letter finished while lying in the bed before I picked up a book and read for the remainder of the night.
Steve's POV
I anxiously waited for the phone call from Williamsons so I could pick up the information for my pen pal. I was eager to get started in corresponding with them, hoping to spark some different connection with someone other than the ones around me. I had friends within the team but I wanted something more, someone that could be more.
Natasha always had tried to set me up with someone but all the women she tried to get me to date were more interested in the title of Captain America than the real me. I was tired of it all. I wanted someone who could enjoy all I had to offer, the man behind the title. I knew I could be more than what the media portrayed me as, more than the hero I am.
This was an opportunity to connect in a way I hadn't in a long time, not since the 40's. It intrigued me to see what this woman could send via an old-fashioned letter. We could almost open up completely with words on paper. We could be more expressive with our passions. Writing allowed me to let things flow, a kind of therapy that I thought everyone should experience.
I constantly checked my phone, worried that I was in areas that the call wouldn't come through. I never got any notification throughout the entire day, the night approaching fast. Once when my phone lit up, the sound of a chime echoing in my ears, I got excited hoping it was them calling; I frowned when all it happened to be was a text from Natasha asking to go out and pick up pizzas for dinner tonight.
"Steve? Is everything okay? Is there something wrong? You look upset?" Tony asked me, walking into the living room, concern etched across his features.
"Everything's fine. I am waiting on something but nothing's come across yet," I told him, not revealing too much. I chose not to tell anyone what I had done, what I had signed up for. I hadn't even told Bucky, my best friend in the world about it. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up at my finding connection with someone if things didn't go well.
"Okay. I just didn't know and you looked angry enough to punch something. I didn't know if someone said something to piss you off or not," he told me, turning on the T.V. and propping his feet on the couch, thick socks on for warmth. I sighed, leaning back to close my eyes, two fingers coming up to pinch the bridge of my nose. Why hadn't they called yet? I glanced down at the time on my phone; the white numbers reading 3:15 p.m.
"I'm going out for a run," I mumbled, leaving the room to change into athletic wear. Running cleared my head of all thoughts and I needed to get rid of the anxiety I felt waiting for the call of my dreams. Leaving the compound, I decided to run around the block a few times, trying desperately to not look at my phone, feeling like I had spent too much time on it anyway. About halfway through the run, the device buzzed freezing me in my tracks, a little too eager to answer it.
Taking a deep breath and collecting myself, I slid the touchscreen bar across saying hello as calm as I could.
"Steve Rogers? This is Gloria Williamson calling about the pen pal event. If you would please come by before the store closes at ten, that would be great," the female voice informed me.
"Thank you for calling me. I thought you weren't going to call for a while there. I should be down there in about an hour. I just got done with a run and would really like to shower," I told her, making my way back to the compound.
"Take your time dear. There's no rush. Just as long as you make it here before the store closes but if you need another day, we will hold the envelope for you to grab later," Gloria continued.
"See you soon," I stated, hanging up the phone and sprinting the rest of the way back. I nearly collided with Bucky bursting through the door, my best friend jumping back a few paces.
"Where's the fire? Hey, where are you going?" he asked; I didn't answer him, the desire to get my pen pal overtaking my senses. I made it to my room and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water run over my body, thoughts of her entering my mind. I didn't know what she looked like or who she was but I craved her letters even though the first one hadn't been sent yet.
Getting out and dressing quickly in a blue, long sleeve shirt, jeans, and brown boots, I left the compound; the keys to my motorcycle in my hand.
"Don't forget the pizzas!" I heard Tony shout right before the door shut behind me. I rode down to the bookstore, not many people crowded around inside and made my way to the café where the hosts were sitting at a table.
"Hello, Steve. Here's your pen pal. You're the first to show up to collect the envelope. It's much quieter compared to this morning. Most of the women went crazy over the names this morning, especially when they found out that Captain America signed up," Frank told me, handing me the crisp white envelope with the name Keira MacPherson and an address written on it.
"I'm not that surprised. Everyone loves a good hero. Thank you. I hope I can make a good connection with her," I stated, the idea of women fighting over me making my heart fill with a sadness that they only wanted the hero.
"She's not so bad. She's a sweet woman and I think you'll be surprised at how she might interact with you. She didn't react as bad as some of the others. Perhaps she wants a real connection as well. Good luck," Gloria told me, reaching out with her hand in a comforting gesture. I nodded, saying thanks again and headed out to a pizzeria to place the order for a few pizzas for dinner. While I waited for the pizzas to be done, my mind went to what I wanted to write to this woman. I didn't want to reveal that I was Captain America but there was a chance that she might already know the name and connect the dots to the hero.
The odd thing that hit was that Gloria had told me that she hadn't reacted the same as the others; the hope that she might not connect Steve Rogers to Captain America crossed my mind. Maybe I could be myself with this one, get her to fall for the man behind the mask and costume. My name was called and I carried the pizzas in bag to hang off the bike in order to return to the compound.
Bringing the pizzas inside, I decided to opt out of eating with the team, but instead grabbed a plate with a few slices on it to my room, needing silence to write to my pen pal. Placing the plate on the bedspread, I grabbed a notebook and a pen, stretching out to begin my first letter. It would be the first in many that would lead me to fall in love with the woman of my dreams.
Three Days Later – Letters Sent
Keira's POV
After finishing up my first letter to Steve last night, I had managed to drop it off at a 24-hour post office to send it to him. It was a simple letter; I introduced myself, told him about some of my hobbies and finished it off with something kind of sweet. I had to admit that I was a little nervous about receiving Steve's first letter and how he might take mine when he got it today.
I hope I could at least capture his attention with it even though the simplicity of it could flutter away in his mind. The mail usually came around 4:30 p.m., which only made the anticipation extremely nerve-wracking. I had to busy myself with menial tasks to distract my mind from the negative thoughts running around in my brain. What if he didn't like what I wrote? What if he put me off? What if he didn't even write me? These were some of the thoughts that plagued me as I cleaned around the apartment.
It's what I did when I got nervous, rearranging everything and cleaning everything to where it would satisfy my nerves. Other tasks included fixing food throughout the day feeding my hunger even though I felt nauseous over the letter currently making it's way through New York to the address of its intended recipient. I even baked, the scent of cookies filling the room, giving me a comfort that I feared no one could fulfill.
At 4:30, I made my descent to the apartment mailboxes, forced to wait as the mailman placed everyone's everyday mail in the golden slots. He eyed me a few times; I tried not to make eye contact as I waited but still the awkward silence filled the room, a weight burdening itself on both of our shoulders.
"Here, just take your mail," the mailman finally said, uncomfortable with my presence of standing at the bottom of the stairs watching his movements. I nodded and quietly crept back up to my apartment, quickly discarding the unwanted magazines and junk that got sent my way. At the tail end of the pile of mail, one bill in the mix, there it laid, the letter from Steve.
Retreating to the solitude of my bedroom, I placed the letter on the comforter staring at it; the contents of it frightened me but also excited me. Unable to fight the anticipating much longer, I grasped the letter and flipped it to the back. With shaking hands, I ripped open the sealed envelope pulling out a folded page of notebook paper beginning to read.
Keira,
It's wonderful to write to you this evening. I am Steve Rogers, which you have no doubt realized since it is printed in the corner on the front of the envelope. I haven't written a letter to anyone in quite some time so forgive me if this seems awkward at all. I guess I should tell you about some things I like or about my day.
First thing you should know is that I'm excited about this pen pal event because I feel as if a deeper connection can be made through a different form of communication. I enjoy technology but writing gives more meaning don't you think? We can open up more to someone through writing and I believe it's a form of therapy everyone should try at least once. Instead of looking at a screen all day, perhaps they should consider writing in a journal or writing to a loved one about anything and everything.
One should also consider the joy of books, to be transported to a world different from their own instead of focusing so much on social media posting ridiculous things. I shouldn't have to open up an app and see a picture of food sitting there. What is it going to represent? Just eat it. It's not a piece of art.
I laughed aloud, thinking about all the food pictures that people posted on a daily basis to impress the world. I didn't really think the world really cared that someone ate pizza or avocado toast. The only things I liked looking at were pictures of beautiful, decorated wedding cakes or baking creations of cupcakes, cakes, brownies and cookies.
I enjoy reading books, often staying up late to finish a chapter or to finish the whole book because I'm completely engrossed in it. I often go on morning runs to clear my head, sometimes one in the evening if I'm feeling particularly stressed about something. I also like to draw. Well it's really doodling when I'm bored, something that I often find myself doing out of habit from my past. If you like, I'll send you one of these famous doodles in the next letter. They're not the best things in the world but maybe you'll enjoy them.
Another thing is that I am from Brooklyn, New York. Born and raised, a place that I love calling home. I have a best friend that immigrated here with his family and there's nothing he wouldn't do for me. I have other friends here with me, two that I'm super close to. I find myself struggling to figure out what else to put in this letter. We're "meeting" each other for the first time, so I expect this to be a little hard at first but maybe as time passes, we can get better at figuring out what to say.
Yesterday, I got so eager to find out who you were that I had to go on one of my head-clearing runs, worrying that I wasn't going to get called to find you. I have to admit this isn't one of my more adventurous days but I find myself excited to write to someone not involved in my everyday world. I think if you would like to envision what I look like, this is the part where I'll do my best to describe my features. I have blonde hair, blue eyes and I'm tall. You might already know who I am but somehow I wish that maybe you don't. There's so much more to me than you might think and I wish to leave a good impression with you.
Hoping to hear from you soon,
Steve Rogers
I smiled as I put down the letter. It was a good start to the correspondence and already I was happy to get one from him. He had a same interest as me, reading and it made me glad that there were those who disappeared in the world of books, reality sometimes overwhelming to be in. I lay back against the pillows; trying to imagine what he looked like from the description he gave me. I could only think of what he might think of me while he read my letter, not knowing Steve was also lying in bed, a smile gracing his face as he got lost in my words.
Steve's POV
Last night I dropped off my letter to be sent to Keira, nervous about what she might think of my introduction. I knew it was going to be awkward but I tried to keep it as simple as I could. I didn't think I should've laid out my whole self out just yet and I had nothing to complain about yet. I hoped we would get better at sending letters to each other, the contents filled with our days and passions that we had.
My day was spent first with a daily run, followed by a training session with the team. We worked harder than we had before, breaking for lunch and getting back at it until we could go on no longer. I returned to my room to read while waiting on the mail to arrive and I had a hard time concentrating on the words on the pages before me. I would periodically check the time on the clock sitting on the wall in front of me, the time seemingly going by slow, frustrating me.
I turned away from the wall, groaning as I shut my book, pulling a pillow over my head before finally taking a short nap. When I awoke, I glanced at the clock, saw that it read 4:30 and sprinted from my room to the front entrance of the compound where Tony had just received the recent mail.
"Natasha, mine, mine, Wanda. Oh, hey Steve. Mail came. Stephen Strange? Why am I getting something for him sent here? Oh look, something for-," he stated, cut off when I snatched the letter from his hands and left for the privacy of my own room.
"You're welcome!" I heard Tony shout before the door shut behind me. Lying back on the pillows, I opened the contents of my envelope, reading her first letter to me.
Hello Steve,
I begin this letter sitting at my desk in my office and I wonder what to say to you that might sound interesting or catch your eye. First things first, I guess. My name is Keira MacPherson and I am excited to write to you. Funnily enough, I enjoy writing, one of my many hobbies apart from reading and…forgive me if I sound like a grandma…knitting. I know, I know. You might be thinking wait is my pen pal an old woman. The answer is no. I am almost 27 years old, my birthday being in two weeks. I guess you could really day that I am an old soul, picking up hobbies that make me seem older than I really am.
I smiled at her hobbies and when she went into the whole old soul spiel, I chuckled and crossed an arm behind my head. She liked to read, which is something we both had in common, but knitting was a thing that I had always admired. The thought of homemade items were sentimental and could bring joy to anyone that received them.
Hey, maybe I'll send you a picture of the giant blankets that I've made. They make my room the coziest and comfiest place in the planet. You probably want to know what I look like. Though it's only a description and I probably resemble most people in the world with the same features. Well here goes. Let your imagination run wild if you want. I'm a short girl (though I will tell people that I'm fun-sized if they want to insult me) with waist-length light brown hair and my eyes are olive green. They're an odd shade for someone, especially when I'm fair-skinned. They don't quite match the shade much but they do enough on their own to capture people's attention. Nothing really exciting happens to me much other than this event, which was an impulsive decision on my part. I don't regret the choice that I made in signing up because it'll give me a chance to connect with someone outside of my normal friend group. Don't get me wrong, I love them but there's a part of me that feels like I'm a disappointment to them. They all have glorious dream jobs and here I am, babysitting and walking dogs.
I wouldn't trade this job for anything because I love animals, especially dogs. I do wish I had a furry companion of my own but my busy schedule leaves me no room to go out and adopt one yet. Also, you'd like to know that I was nervous about writing to you because the first letter might seem awkward, but it fits my personality well. I've always been shy and awkward when meeting new people. I know we haven't technically met yet but it still has the same affect on me though. I even paced the room for a while, trying to figure out my words.
I'm glad this isn't e-mail because I love to handwrite anything that I set my mind to. Stories were always something I liked to create and I hope to do that someday. I'd like to have my own book or books published in a bookstore like the one I go to most days. Writing just frees you, you know. It's a lost art when you see writers typing out their words on their computer but for me I can't do that. I like seeing them on notebook paper; the words seem to flow better that way.
That's enough about me. I feel like I'm getting carried away with talking about things. I want to know about you, which I'm sure you'll send my way in your first letter. I want to know more though. Tell me what you like to do for fun. Maybe you like reading and that's nice but I do want to know what you like to do with your friends, where you're from. Tell me your favorite memory, or your most funny one. Just tell me anything and everything about you. Maybe we can even talk about our day or week. Maybe we can rant or give each other comfort when we're feeling down.
I told you at the beginning that I started this letter at my desk but now I've retreated to the bedroom to finish it. I get the most comfort out of being in the comfort of my own bed when trying to figure things out or sometimes hiding from the world. I finish this letter before I pick up a book and read late into the night like I normally do. I love to escape reality when I read. I love when books can transport you somewhere else.
Anyway, I can't wait to hear more from you and create a wonderful connection with each other.
Yours truly,
Keira MacPherson
Already she seemed like someone I could grow to like maybe even love. It was almost as if she let go completely and let her words flow on paper, which is something I loved about writing letters. You get to open up more to people without even realizing it. In the coming months, I wouldn't realize that I was starting to fall for her through her words. Fate would also intervene and our worlds would intertwine in the form of coffee.
