I shouldn't want my bodyguard. I shouldn't have desired him the way that I did. He was personnel, for God's sake. He wasn't mine.

And I wasn't his. It couldn't work. It wouldn't work. It hurt me to push him away. It left me in tears to watch him stand there, taking the blow. There was this unspoken electricity that coarse through me whenever he was near. He was too good for me. For the team. He was dependable and mature and softhearted. The kiss was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened–but it did. It did, I initiated it, and I liked it.

I craved the feeling again. So imagine my surprise when Darren pulled open the door of the French countryside estate the after party was being held at. So why was he here? He didn't like the public, much less high society life.

People trampled inside and the party began in full force. Drinks were being past around like candy; laughter was being shared without a care in the world. In everyone else's eyes, they thrived off of luxury. In mine, I thrived off of simple acknowledgment. I preferred to take matters into my own hands, not let other people deal with my shit.

Someone offered me a drink. "What? No, no thank you."

A chill ran down my spine. I was tired and sluggish and I desperately wanted to free myself from the shackles of my heels. This was a terrible mistake. All of it. I decided on a whim to go to the after party–said something about fucking job prospects–but that was far from the deep seated truth.

Who did Emaad think I was to go to drunk parties asking for a job? I had more class than that. I had my dignity in tow. I stuck by the sidelines like a fly on the wall. I was only here to distract myself. To be away from the public eye. This day was supposed to be good, and not about me, but it became all that and more.

If Darren hadn't mentioned the kiss. I wanted to pretend it didn't happen. He had other plans. I wanted to pretend it didn't send shock waves through my entire being right down to my toes, but he was making it difficult. I hated him so much. I wasn't allowed one lick of privacy around him. I knew it wasn't his fault, the emotions of it all was too much to bear in my heart.

I turned around and decided to explore the estate while everyone else was busy mingling. It'd buy me time away; privacy at last. I made twists and turns on the ground floor when I stopped short in the east wing of a lone, chilly corridor. It looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time with its pristine conditions in each room as I peered through. Save for the library.

The shelves were covered down to the floor and up to ceiling with novels and folders older than I was. A sliding ladder was attached to it. The desk was large and had ample desk top space. No books in sight; only a semi-worn brown leather office chair. The moonlight shone through the large windowpanes, creating a bright, soft blue light. I decided to light a few of the candles to situate myself.

I sat huddled underneath the desk with a copy of Little Women (couldn't be more ironic) and held it close to my chest.

I wanted to go home. Nothing mattered anymore. Tears streamed down my face from exhaustion. I couldn't handle the press tour for a film, how was I meant to handle going on tour for weeks on end? I hated being watched. I hated being a target. I hated all of it. It reminded me too much of the past year. Of what happened. I had never felt so helpless. So alone in a room full of people that I thought understood me only hear "get over it."

My bodyguard was a "shut up" move and I hated Emaad for it. I hated how he couldn't see it. That he rather pay someone else to deal with me when he was there that day.

He was watching me. I was on the right of him off stage and the minute he looked away...

The one time he didn't watch me, too caught up in performing, he allowed me to get hurt.

And today, the wardrobe malfunction, the hair, the hotel room... I was helpless then, too. Just as you think you're healing from your trauma, sometimes it creeps up on you in unexpected ways when you aren't looking.

The door opened. I flung a hand to my mouth, attempting to muffle my breathing. I didn't want anyone to know I was in here. The pitter-patter of the person's shoes were heavy and dull. It sounded like boots. Then, the person breathed in and out. It sounded like a man.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

Just my luck. I sniffled. Holding my breath was harder than I thought. Fuck the door being closed. "What are you doing in here?"

"I can ask you the same thing," he replied, void of emotion. I heard the flick of a lighter and his mouth to a cigarette. He a took a drag. "Where are you?"

"Dr. Alexander, are you smoking?" I taunted him, copying his tone. I ignored his question. He'd have to go use his long legs and find me himself.

He exhaled. "I do on the occasion." I saw his feet circle around, then in full view under where the chair was. I pushed it a little to grab his attention. It worked. He bent down, crouching in front of me. The glint in his eyes marked surprise. "How'd you manage to squeeze in?"

I shrugged. "Beats me," I said, voice weary.

He leaned on the opposite side of the desk, sitting on the floor. "Aya–"

I groaned. "Stop, please. I don't want to hear it. It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry." my heart ached.

He paused. "What?" he said, taken aback. "No, I wanted to apologize for today. All of it. About your dress and hair."

Goosebumps prickled my skin. I hugged the leather bound book close to my chest. "Oh," I said sheepishly. My face heated as the memories came rushing back to the forefront of my mind. "That's very thoughtful." Not even Emaad made sure I was okay. But Darren did. He went through so much trouble just for me.

My stomach fluttered. No.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright. The past week has been... hectic, to say the least." he puffed, and smoke filled the air.

I hummed. It had been a wild time with him, that was for sure. "Yeah." blasted tears trailed down my cheeks. My face was hot and heavy, I was struggling to catch my breath. I hadn't meant to cry in front of him, but it was too much. I wanted r my old life before the accident back. I wanted the girl I once was. But in that moment I broke down sobbing underneath a desk because, I knew that girl was long since gone.

Darren scrambled to meet me under the desk, pulling me out from under. I resisted. "Aya, what's wrong?" through my tear-filtered eyes, his expression was clear panic and concern. I couldn't respond. "Listen, love, breathe, okay?" his hands clasped mine in a tender grasp. He circled his thumb around my knuckles to sooth me.

"I don't know if I can do it," I sobbed, finding myself reeling forward and into his arms. My head landed on his chest. He was like a pillow.

"Do what?" he asked.

"I shouldn't have agreed! I'm terrified out of my mind–for this, the news, the reporters–everything!" I wailed, my defenses gone out the window. I curled up into him. He held me as I cried.

"What's troubling you?" he asked, pulling me away from him. His fingers brushed my tears away. "You can tell me. You don't have to go through it alone, okay? I've got you."

I plucked his fingers from my face and nuzzled back into him. I couldn't look into his eyes just yet. "You're not going to believe me," I told him, voice caught in my throat. "Nobody has. Not even my own family."

He shook his head. "That's bollocks," he cursed in a whisper. "I believe you. Whatever it is, I believe you. I'm sorry people you trusted made you think otherwise, Aya."

I covered my face into my hands as I sobbed harder. That was the only thing I ever wanted to hear. In one moment, a sense of peace washed over me. A part of me healed that night. And I would be forever grateful.

I shook my head, tremors racking through my body. "I don't know what to do."

Darren pulled me away, his hands moving to grasp my shoulders. His touch stilled my shaking. "What happened, love?" Soft sweetness drenched his tone. He wasn't angry when I kept on pushing him away; never raised his voice at me whenever we fought and for however long. He was so patient even in the wake his distress I knew I was causing him. His eyes shined. His stare was glass.

I wiped hot tears on my face with the back of my hands. Then, I moved to touch his cheek. I looked down, timidness washing over me. "Last year," I started, trying my hardest to fight off a wave of anxiety. I breathed, in and out, trying to stay in the moment, "I was... I was in an accident. A freak accident. It was all over the news; I was ashamed, afraid. Not because of what happened, but because everywhere and everyone I turned to for comfort and shelter turned me away. I was made to believe what happened to me backstage while Emaad was performing was my fault. That I was just his sister, leeching off of his success and nothing else." I paused, catching my breath.

It happened so fast and in the dark. There hadn't been any room between me and my attacker. He had struck me from behind, later I would realize that he'd trash the back of my head with a loaded gun.

That man was going to kill my brother on the stage, hadn't he known that the show was stacked with security. And I was there watching my brother exactly right off the cut of the stage. I was only able to recall the accident because the attacker in question hadn't successfully knocked me out cold. I was still somewhat conscious to hear the cock of the gun; hoe he held it.

I never saw the man's face.

He was identified days later on the news, at the same venue we were at. At the same time he was performing. I was sure it was him, how could it not be?

Emaad called me a liar.

My parents wouldn't speak to me.

I lost my job.

Darren was shell-shocked for a while. He, too, trembled while I told him my testimony. Then, without hesitation, without question, he hugged me so tight I was sure that if that had been my last breath–him squeezing me–I wouldn't mind. Because he believed me. He believed me when no one else did. And I knew he understood. He really, genuinely, understood.

"God..." he cursed, his head nuzzled in between the crook of my neck. "Holy God."

He looked as though he was going to burst. "Can you believe it?" I said wryly. A floppy smeared smile spread across my face. When did it get so hot?

He laughed, too. He pushed out foreheads together. "I can," he answered, "but I'm glad you're here. So glad."

We stared at each other's eyes for what seemed like ages. I knew for a fact that I resembled a raccoon. Mascara ran down my face; lipstick smeared. My dress in shambles. "Remember when I asked you if you ever wished something never happened? What would yours be?"

Darren slumped against the bookcase. His hands roamed to my lower back, his fingers clawing me in so I couldn't away. His shoulders relaxed. "I wish I never went to Germany."

Made sense. I didn't know how long he'd been serving for (and, to be honest, it wasn't my business) so my guess was simply: long enough. I curled up into him, toying with the pages of the book. "Why?"

"I lost someone that was important to me." he played with my fingers. "You know, I've never admitted this to anyone before, but I see him a lot in you. He had the same knack for justice like you do."

I blushed at the compliment. I hadn't expected to confined in my bodyguard-turned-crush about my troubles and woes; let alone hear his, too. I cherished that night. "I'm sorry for your loss," I said, meaning it with my whole heart. "But thank you, nonetheless." his heart thumped ferociously. I didn't mishear a beat. "How'd you know him? What was his name?"

He smiled, and my God, was it a sight for sore eyes. Darren burst out a melancholic laugh. He sighed, at bliss. That was a sound of love. I'd seen it in Emaad when he would talk about Dina way back when; and in Millie who was still head over heels for Junior.

It had to be. Soulfulness peaked through him at the question I proposed. Behind that grumpy, introverted, brute of a man was a lover boy. What a sight indeed–and I was, unfortunately, very very attracted.

"I me him at boot camp. He was my best friend. I was in love with him. The feelings were mutual."

Bingo.

I couldn't help but giggle. "Romantic."

He rolled his eyes. His smile was loopy. Boyish. My God, even in times of supposed darkness he . never failed to be such a light. I didn't know he had that inside him. "I thought you'd hate me," he said, his tone husk, light. Disbelief.

I swiveled, twisting my torso. I cocked an eyebrow. "Come on, did you really think I was a heartless bigot?" I scoffed in bewilderment. I couldn't resist from smiling. I was teasing, and I hoped he played the game, too.

Darren looked at the ceiling and contemplated what to say.  "Bigoted? No, just a little... dare I say, caught up in your own head to mind others." his eyes swooped to meet mine. He sported a devilish grin. "Heartless? yes"--I gawked at him–"but that was before I got to know you." his thick fingers circling my cheek. He pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. I shivered at his touch.

I bit my lip, eyes glued to his stupid sculpted face. I swore he came out of a portrait. Then, my eyes followed his hands. My lips found his fingertips and I kissed them. "Darren..."

"Yes, love?"

I tilted my head to one side. "How could I hate you for how you love? One, that wouldn't be fair to you..." I interlocked out fingers. My heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to throw up from arousal. It was an odd sensation, I have to admit, but alas I am a lady who kisses and tells the whole fucking world.

"And two?" This time, he whispered in my ear. I'd never drank in my life and never planned on doing so, but was this what it felt like to be completely trashed? To be taken to peaks just the by the sound of someone's voice? Whatever it was, I was losing. I couldn't hold my own.

"How could I hate you when I'm the same way? I like women just as much as I like men." My voice dipped into a whisper.

He smirked. Please... "Looks like we have more in common than we thought."

"I suppose you're right." like you always are. He moved his face away. His nose touched mine. His breath, hot and heavy, fanned my face. "But we can't stay here," I shrilled. My hands laid flat on his chest. I had to be the voice of reason here. I wouldn't allow either of us to give into intimate pursuits in public places. I couldn't risk it, and neither could he. Although, it would've made a brilliant story.

"Why don't you tell your friends that you're tired," he mused, laziness and tiredness taking hold of him, "and that you are going back to the hotel." he dipped his head to reach my face again, but swooped to the crook of my neck and kissed me in places I hadn't even thought of.

I moaned, a smile creeping up on me. "Aye, soldier. Or would you prefer doctor?" I drawled, overcome with lust at the heat of the moment.

He laughed at my terrible joke. That broke him out of his haze. Stepped away and opened the door for me. Under his arm was tucked the copy of Little Women. Stealing wasn't patriotic of him. Then again, Darren Alexander made it clear to despise America.

Except me.

"You can call me whatever you want, Aya. Either way, I'm at your service, remember?"