The Bodyguard

ROSALIE

As I stood talking with Peter, my eyes would stray every few minutes looking for Jonathan.

It wasn’t that Peter was dull; he was actually almost as charming and handsome as Jonathan, but I just couldn’t help myself. He had been very nice and even asked a lot of questions about me, like he genuinely wanted to know the answers.

But I was distracted by the fact that every time I looked around the room, I still couldn’t pinpoint Jonathan anywhere.

Peter must have noticed my wandering eyes since he commented, “You seem preoccupied. Am I boring you, or are you looking for Jonathan—or both?”

He didn’t seem upset by my behavior, more like amused.

“To be honest, you’re a great conversationalist,” I said sheepishly. “It’s just that I feel more at ease when Jonathan is around.”

“You like him, don’t you?” Peter said bluntly while smiling knowingly.

“Like him?” I repeated cluelessly. “Yeah, he’s been a great friend.”

“No. I mean you like him.”

Instead of denying it, I gave a pathetic excuse. “Um…I’ve only known him for a few days.”

I couldn’t possibly like him. I barely know him.

“It’s not impossible,” he teased. “People have fallen in love in less time.”

“But…”

Before I could come up with another lame excuse, he interjected, “Does your heart beat faster when he’s near? Or you feel butterflies when he’s around?”

I blushed. Butterflies? So that’s what that was. But how does he know?

Without waiting for my answer, he continued, “I thought it was odd how he had introduced you earlier—standing right behind you with such possessiveness.”

I laughed. “You’re reading too much into it. That’s probably because he’s my bodyguard and has to stay close.”

“So you’ve said.” Peter looked entertained. “I’ve never liked any of the girls Jonathan dated. However, you’re special, so I’ll let you in on a little secret.

“Jonathan gets bored easily. He doesn’t hang out with any women for more than three hours at a time, let alone the whole day. He doesn’t do serious relationships; his relationships have never lasted longer than a couple weeks.

“Do you know how I knew you’re special?”

I shook my head.

“Because Mason and I are the same way. So believe me when I tell you, Jonathan treats you differently.”

Okay. Differently…but in what way?

Different was not necessarily good; it could mean good or bad.

Before I could ask, he said, “Come on, let’s go find your Prince Charming. I noticed your eyes have been searching for him for the last hour.”

He steered me around the room, but we couldn’t find Jonathan. Then we saw Mason talking to a pretty blonde with a curvy body.

Once we reached him, Peter asked, “Have you seen Jonathan around?”

“He left a while ago. Said he had an emergency,” Mason informed us.

“What kind of emergency?” I asked, full of concern.

He left me.

I could feel an anxiety attack coming on.

Breathe. Just breathe.

“He didn’t say but asked one of us to take you home,” Mason answered nonchalantly.

Home. To the apartment…all by myself?

I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate. I wasn’t ready to be by myself yet. After a kidnapping attempt when I was a young girl, I had to see a psychologist for many months.

I thought I had moved on. I thought all those sessions had prepared me for this day—to be okay by myself and be independent. However, now that it was here, I realized I was far from ready.

Peter must have seen the anxiety etched in my face and the shortness of my breath because he offered, “You can stay here and wait for Jonathan if you want.”

I silently nodded as my hands started to get clammy.

“Here.” Peter brought me back to the kitchen to make me another drink. “Try this.”

I accepted the cup and drank it. I choked on the strong taste and made a face. “What is it?”

“Juice and alcohol,” he said. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

I took smaller sips, and each time I swallowed I had to scrunch up my nose. After ingesting half of the contents, I started to feel a little more relaxed and a little less nervous.

I asked for a second cup and finished it while Peter kept me company.

Eventually, seeing my droopy eyelids, he took me to the room Jonathan had vacated and told me I could rest there until Jonathan showed up. He even told me to lock the door so drunken people wouldn’t bother me.

I laid in bed with the comforter pulled up to my chin. I left the light on because darkness scared me, especially in a new place without familiar people around.

Why do I feel safe with Jonathan? I wondered. ~Safe enough to live with him the last few days and nights without any reservations.~

JONATHAN

My mom was discharged this morning so I could finally take her home. The hospital even scheduled a follow-up for her with a psychologist to talk about what happened.

I got back to Rosalie’s apartment around 9 a.m. and found it empty.

Fuck.

“Rosalie!” I called out. Nothing. I looked in her room; the bed was still made.

Shit.

I ran back to my car and drove to Mason’s apartment.

Rosalie, where are you? Fuck, I had forgotten to grab my phone charger to charge my phone so I could call her. This is already a shitty day.~

I made it to Mason’s apartment and punched in the code to open the door. I entered to see a bunch of sleeping bodies spread all over the place: the floor, the couch, the chair.

I walked over to survey the bodies, looking for anything in white and petite. None matched the description. A sigh of relief left my lungs as I continued up the stairs.

I checked the bathroom, and there was a body lying next to the toilet in vomit. I was glad I had moved out so that I wouldn’t be waking up to this crap. I felt bad for Mason’s housekeeper, who had to clean up this shit.

Next, I checked the bedrooms. The first room had some random people in it; the second had Mason and some blonde girl.

The third room had Peter and a brunette in bed together. My heart and stomach instinctively tightened at the scene. I couldn’t tell who the woman was since only her hair was visible from under the blanket.

I walked over to the bed and pulled the blanket down to have a closer look at her. Seeing that she wasn’t Rosalie, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Peter woke up at the sound and turned toward me, his countenance full of smugness. “Looking for your precious cargo? She’s probably still sleeping in your old room.”

I immediately ran to the last room and found the door locked. I grabbed the key on top of the doorframe and opened it.

I instantly saw her petite form in the king-size bed. She still had on the same white dress from the night before.

Thank God she has clothes on. I had been expecting the worst.

I walked into the room and noticed that she had kicked the comforter down to her ankles. She was lying on her side with her hands out in front of her face.

The skirt of her dress was pushed up to her thighs, exposing her captivating, smooth legs. Her thick brown hair was spread out perfectly, like a halo around her head.

She was utterly beautiful like an angel—all that was missing were her white wings.

I stared at her slightly parted pink lips for a little too long before I shook my head to snap myself out of it. Finally, I pulled down her skirt and touched her shoulder.

“Hey, princess. I’m here to take you home.”

She stirred and let out a sweet little moan. Her hands came up to rub her sleepy brown eyes before she fully opened them. “Jonathan?” she asked softly, like she was still dreaming.

“Hey, princess,” I repeated with a smile.

“Jonathan! You’re back!” she exclaimed as she got on her knees and wrapped her arms around my neck.

My hands went to her tiny waist as I buried my smile into her neck.

Her skin was soft and her scent alluring. After a crappy night, holding Rosalie felt almost intoxicating. My arms encircled her back and pulled her into a tight hug.

I could stand like this forever, I thought.

I was so lost in a state of physical and mental ease that I didn’t hear what she said. “What?” I asked as my head straightened.

“I said, I’m ready to go home now.” She spoke softly as our eyes connected.

I cupped her head in my hand and grazed her cheek tenderly with my thumb. “All right. Let’s go.”