My Bodyguard and Me
And here I was, seated on the balcony, staring at the rain pitter and patter against the glass coverage walls with my bodyguard seated there, a book in hand. I don't know his problem. I know from his attitude that he wasn't happy to “babysit” a twenty year old, but he could have just ended his contract.
He never paid me a single attention and was always reading, but strangely, he was always alert. I was the abomination he must never look at. And it made my blood boil. But not for long, though. Because every time I set eyes on him, I melt.
It is forbidden, but who cares? I want him, but does he want me?