The Bodyguard

ROSALIE

I never thought living with someone could be so easy. I was worried at first, but Jonathan made it simple.

I didn’t know if it was me or him or both of us who made this whole situation undemanding and effortless. It had been only a few days—too early to judge—but I could definitely see him as a wonderful roommate.

I’ve been enjoying his company, and he was just really easy to get along with—probably too charming for his own good.

“No. That’s too thick,” Jonathan remarked when he saw how I was cutting the green bell pepper into strips.

We were in the kitchen trying to make steak fajitas for lunch. We were planning on tacos but had switched to fajitas at the last minute.

He came up behind me and took my hand with the knife in it, showing me how to cut thinner strips. My heart started beating faster, and the weird sensations in my stomach came back as my body tensed up.

I didn’t pay any attention to the process in front of me since all I could focus on was his heat against my back. His scent invaded my nose, and I found myself taking a deep breath—taking him in.

“Hey. Are you paying attention?” he asked. He had felt my hands go slack and saw that he was doing all the work.

“Y-yeah. I got it,” I said quickly, starting to continue where he left off.

“Are you sure?” he teased as he bent his head, his left cheek grazing the right side of my head.

I blushed as I nodded, and he finally released me. My body instantly relaxed the moment the heat disappeared from my back.

“Just cut the rest like that,” he said. “Cut the red bell pepper and onion the same way.”

“Okay,” I nodded as I finished chopping the green peppers.

When I started cutting the onion, the fumes immediately attacked my eyes. I found myself blinking rapidly at my stinging eyes as tears fell down my cheeks. I started to sniffle.

“Can you cut the onion? I can’t see.” I looked and sounded pathetic as I dropped the knife and turned toward him.

He chuckled and handed me a tissue. “You’re such a baby.”

“I am not,” I said defiantly. “Let’s see you do it.”

I wiped my eyes so I could watch him turn into the same pathetic mess. But he cut the onion like a professional, unaffected by its fumes.

“How come you’re not crying?” I asked, a little resentful of how he could keep his look of perfection even while cutting onions.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m tall and the fumes don’t quite reach me.”

“Riiiight,” I drawled, not believing the explanation.

“Okay. Let’s sauté these and then we can throw in the steak and spices,” he said as he threw the peppers and onion strips into the hot oiled frying pan.

He showed me how to push the food back and forth with a spatula so they would cook evenly. While he prepared the steak strips, I was in charge of the frying pan.

Being left-handed, I reached for the handle to turn the pan around, but my fingers accidentally touched the hot part. I hissed and immediately let go, causing a loud clang as the pan dropped against the burner grate.

Jonathan instantly turned and saw me holding my hand. He seized my wrist and pulled me over to the sink, turning on the faucet right away. Cold water poured out and soothed my burning fingers.

“What happened?” he asked, slightly frowning as he held my hand under the water.

“I was stupid,” I admitted, trying to pull my hand back. “I picked up the pan handle and somehow touched the hot part.”

“No.” He didn’t let go and kept holding my hand in place. “Keep it in the cold water a little longer. It’ll help you feel better and the burn will heal faster.”

I felt so foolish and incompetent. I couldn’t even cut the stinking onions, and now my fingers were throbbing.

All I’m good for is eating.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asked gently as his free hand came up to wipe a tear away.

I didn’t realize I was crying. I got more frustrated with myself.

God, now I’m a crybaby too.

My free hand came up to angrily wipe away at my face. “I’m just being silly. Just ignore me.”

“How can I ignore you?” he asked playfully. “I’m your bodyguard.”

“Oh, right. My bodyguard,” I muttered.

Yup. Just my bodyguard.

He would probably show the same concern to the next person. But why did this bother me? Why did my heart hurt?

Maybe this is just like the situation with my maid.

I had unintentionally overheard my maid telling my housekeeper one day that she was only nice to me because she was the help. She had added that under different circumstances, we wouldn’t have been friends.

That statement had hurt me and stayed with me these last two years. I couldn’t get over it. Whenever I saw my maid after that, I would feel awkward and couldn’t be myself. Maybe I was overly sensitive, but I couldn’t help it.

I took my hand back from his grasp and walked out of the kitchen.

“Hey,” Jonathan called after me. He quickly followed me and seized my arm. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?”

I didn’t reply but slowly turned back toward him. His blue eyes stared down at me, worry etched in his beautiful features.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked softly, averting my eyes to his chest. I couldn’t hold his stare due to his intense gaze.

“Shoot.”

“Are we…friends?” I whispered. It then took all my courage to look back up to hear his answer.

“Yeah. Of course!” He said it like it was super obvious.

“No. I mean, if you weren’t my bodyguard, would we still be friends?” I repeated with vulnerability in my voice.

“Yes!” he declared. “What’s this about?” His voice was full of concern.

“Nothing,” I smiled as I wiped at the sudden happy tears that came upon hearing the sincerity in his voice.

God, he must think I’m bipolar. What’s wrong with me today? Why am I so hormonal? Sad one minute and happy the next. Maybe my period is coming.

JONATHAN

I immediately embraced her the moment I saw her tears. Tears had never affected me much. My exes cried when we broke up, but it had never bothered me.

However, watching Rosalie cry really tugged at my heartstrings. I instantly softened the moment I saw her first tear appear—just like earlier by the sink.

I could feel the front of my shirt getting wet, but it didn’t bother me one bit as I continued to hold her. She felt so small in my arms as I rested my chin on her head and inhaled her fragrant shampoo.

I didn’t know why she was crying, so I just assumed it was along the line of being friends. With that reasoning in mind, I tried to reassure her.

“You are one of the most interesting people I know. Had we met under different conditions, I would still like to be your friend and get to know you better.”

“Really?” she asked as she lifted her face up to look at me. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“Yes, really,” I answered seriously. “And no, I’ve never been one to sugarcoat things. Besides, we’ve been getting along pretty well, right?”

“Yeah. But you’re probably friendly and amiable with everyone,” she stated, still not believing me.

“Not true. I’m not nice to everyone, especially those who get on my nerves,” I countered as I stared at her open, unguarded, sweet face.

Suddenly, I dropped my arms as realization struck. I hadn’t noticed that I’ve been holding her intimately this whole time.

Her petite frame had felt so nice and natural in my embrace that I didn’t register how long I had held her—probably longer than what was appropriate between a client and a bodyguard.

She must have had the same realization since her face was scarlet and she looked down at her hands.

“Let’s get takeout since the food is burnt,” I said, clearing my throat and going to turn off the stove.

“Okay,” she answered with her head still bent.

“Oh, yeah. My buddy is having a party at his place tonight. Do you want to go?”

“Yeah. Sure. Sounds like fun.” Her head snapped up enthusiastically.

“If you get uncomfortable there, just let me know and we can leave anytime.”