Selena

The car ride back to the apartment with Adam is awkward.

I hate that I had this argument with my dad in front of him. I hate that my dad said those things about me in front of him. I hate how humiliated and small and unwanted I feel. I hate it.

"It's raining," Adam comments softly.

I stare outside and see that indeed, the gravel is wet with raindrops. Everything is gray, cloudy, with beautiful dark trees.

"What are you doing?" Adam asks as I roll down my window.

"I want to smell it." I lean my head against the corner and welcome the cool wind. I close my eyes and take a deep inhale, focusing on the smell of the rain. Let it cloak over the anxious tornado in my head. Calm it for a brief, brief second.

Adam watches me as I slowly sit up straight, rolling the window back up.

"So..." I drawl. "What do you do when the client is going through something personal and you have to witness it? Do you talk to each other like friends?"

"Depends if I like the client."

Oh. His directness is shocking.

"Do you like me?"

"No."

I stop breathing. I literally freeze on him. What the hell?

He bursts out laughing, but tries to keep it quiet. He fails.

"Was that a joke?" I can't believe him. He's still laughing at me! "You're such a jerk!"

"I'm kidding, Jesus Christ." His voice is smooth and raspy. It's as pleasant as spreading Nutella on a freshly baked baguette. "Did you want me to like you that badly?"

"Well, if you had common sense you would." I look away, frowning. "I've done everything to be accommodating, even though I hate the idea of you living with me. And even though you ignore me and stare at me with your dead, soulless expression, I still care about you as a human being. And your sister."

"Soulless expression." He shakes his head. "How can I ignore you and stare at you at the same time?"

I don't enjoy the chastising amusement in that tone at all. Okay, I kind of do.

"Easily. I can stare at anything and not actually pay attention to it for hours." I elaborate, due to his confused scowl. "I go deep inside my head. I disassociate. It's actually so nice." Wait, he'll think you're too insane, tone it down a notch. "I mean not all the time. Like, I don't do it with people...on purpose."

"Are you done?"

My first instinct was that he's being malicious towards me, but when he smirks, I realize he's just messing with me.

I laugh embarrassedly under my breath. Phew. My cheeks are getting heated.

Wait.

How can I laugh like this, when I went through his private letters last night? He has no idea.

This isn't right.

I stare at my lap for a couple of minutes probably, picking at my dry cuticles. It hurts the whole time. But I can't stop and I don't want to stop. Pain keeps me grounded when I'm swimming inside my head. It's like a life jacket in the middle of the deep ocean.

"Adam, I need to help you something." I begin, knowing he's listening. "I'm sorry in advance and I understand if you don't accept my apology."

"What?" He cuts me off.

"I did something bad yesterday."

"What'd you do?"

"I..." I cower my neck in shame. "Sorry. I snooped under your bed to find out more about you."

"Is that why you were acting so weird?" He snaps.

I'm taken aback. This is the first time he's shown a decent emotional reaction. I'm also afraid.

"You really think I'd flick my bean in your sister's room?"

"So what did you find?" His tone is accusatory. Defensive. Oh. So he's insecure about it. Maybe.

"I found a letter you wrote to Leah that said you've been in prison for six years."

He's lost for words for a second. "Who gave you the right to go through my shit?"

"No one. What I did was extremely wrong. I'm sorry. It was rude and disrespectful."

"Have I read any of your mail? Huh? I don't even go to your room!"

"I know! But to be fair, you also shower in my bathroom and you sleep with a boner on my precious couch!"

"So?"

"So? So it means I get the joy of cleaning your pubes from the shower drain and hope there's no cum on the cushions. Thank you very much."

I'm impressed with myself that Adam's jaw is hanging open, but I act indifferent.

"You're such an asshole," he says in wander, almost like he...likes it.

Why do I giggle? Someone please explain. "Shut up."

"I can't believe you went through my shit."

And I'm so relieved that you don't hate me. "I'm sorry, though. Really."

"Does it scare you?"

"That you were...?"

"Mhm."

Whoa. I wasn't prepared for a sudden change of topic. Especially about this.

We stare at each other for a moment. My heart beats fast. Too fast. Warning me to look away.

No. I force myself to really look at him. I'm fully aware that my nervousness is showing, and yes, I'm embarrassed about it. I search inside me for the fear he's talking about. If I'm scared of him, because he's been in prison. Do I automatically assume he's a bad person? I stare deep into his eyes.

"I don't think so. And I'm not going to ask you what got you there, but maybe you'll tell me one day. Don't tell me now."

"Okay."

I thought he'd laugh, but he turns more serious. Even sad. Maybe even afraid. Now I wonder what he's done. Maybe I shouldn't joke about it. I really need to learn how to be appropriate in conversations. I mess up too much.

I didn't want him to tell me now, because I'm emotionally exhausted. It's such a sensitive topic; I want to be at my best when he tells me, so that I can respond in the best way possible. In the way that he deserves, and nothing less.

"And sorry you had to witness that juicy argument back there," I add instead.

"I'm sorry he said those things to you. You didn't deserve them."

My heart flips and squeezes at his words. All I can do is swallow the lump in my throat and mumble a quiet thank you.

"And stop doing that." He points his chin at my hands as I ruin my cuticles.

"It's from anxiety."

"I know."

"I'm not using it as an excuse, but it's hard to control it. I realize it's disgusting."

"I never said it's disgusting. It just looks like it hurts."

"Maybe I like it when it hurts."

"I bet you do." He muses to himself, staring at the road ahead with an unsettling, wolfish smirk.

"Yeah, and I bet you like to damage."

"Huh?" His smirk only grows, revealing a crooked smile as he chuckles, raising his eyebrows. "You bet what?"

"You heard me." I roll my eyes. Inside, I'm doing a happy dance for making him laugh.

I replay everything in my head, again and again. All day. Every hour of the day. Until midnight.

I Google for answers.

"Why do bodyguards risk their lives for clients?"

"Do bodyguards take their jobs serious?"

"Do bodyguards think of their clients as jobs?"

I read through Reddit threads, of other security officers and whatnot sharing their experiences. And so many of them sound just like Adam. There's this...sophisticated weight in which they carry themselves. Unapologetically masculine and humble. Mature.

Holy shit, and I've been acting like a dumb, melodramatic damsel in distress. I can learn so much from this guy! He's been to prison, but he lives by such high standards. I mean, he drinks espresso like a British super model, but sounds like a honey-eating bear, you feel me, homie?

The next morning, I sign up for a four-hour self-defense bootcamp.

"Selena, no one is going to get close to you as long as I'm around," Adam rolls his eyes when I announce the news to him.

"Too late now, we're already here." I smile at the bohemian studio entrance, walking towards the front desk person. He's wearing a tan, linen shirt with a colorful necklace. "Hello."

"You here for the beginner's self-defense bootcamp?" He gives Adam a skeptical glance.

"No, not him. He's just my bodyguard. He can't leave me alone."

The worker blinks at me a couple of times, then calls the manager to ask for what to do. The manager is a middle-aged woman who's trying really hard to appear young. And because Adam is such a handsome, broody devil, she wants to please him and lets him observe.

We enter the studio space where the class is supposed to take place. It's a large, mirrored room and the floor is entirely covered with a blue mat. There are awards, trophies, and framed pictures on one wall.

There's about twenty women facing the front. Everyone's wearing yoga sets. There are girls here that look like supermodels. With tan skin and tight stomachs. They're wearing those expensive, colorful yoga pants that ride into the butt crack.

I'm wearing black, because I'm here for serious business.

To learn how to protect myself. Relying purely on Adam is selfish and reckless. First of all, he's just one person. What if get attacked by a group of people and I can't even punch someone in the face? And also, he has a sister to worry about. At any moment, he might need to leave. Then I'm stuck on my own. I should at least be ready.

A tall man with dark, fuzzy hair and the most serious face expression, enters the class. "Ladies...welcome." He does a little bow.

Adam is leaning against the corner in the back, drinking a Starbucks cappuccino.

"I want to applaud you for being here today." The instructor walks around the class until he's standing in front of us. He's wearing a white pajama set. "You have taken a step that many women are too afraid to take."

Okay, thanks for the advertisement. We already paid.

"You don't need years of training, you don't need strength." The instructor narrows his eyes at the horizon, then punches his chest. "You just need to face your fears."

I'm pretty sure, you need at least a little bit of training and some mediocre strength. The rest of the women are quietly listening. I can't tell from their expressions if they're taking him seriously.

"I've stood against men quadruple my size..." The instructor puffs his chest, pacing around, with his eyes never leaving us. "I can get inside the bad guy's head, learn his tricks and moves, then use that knowledge against him." He smiles slowly. "It's a method that has never failed."

Behind me, someone obnoxiously snorts, trying really hard not to burst out laughing.

Adam.

"Do you have a problem with my teaching, Mr..." the instructor asks, offended.

"Adam."

Oh my God. I'm going to get kicked out of here! I gawk at him over my shoulder, screaming with my eyes to shut the hell up.

"Did I say something funny, Adam?" the instructor chuckles, darting a flustered glance between him and the women. "What, do you doubt that I've outsmarted big guys like you?"

"Yeah, I do."

My goodness, I can't handle the unflinching eye-contact and mocking undertone. I can't. Is it hot in here?

"You should prove him wrong." I nod my head at the instructor like it's the best idea ever.

"Yeah!" One of the hot girls at the front supports him, causing a few others to join in.

"Alright, fine. Actually, this will be a great demonstration. Is that okay with you, Adam?" The instructor fakes politeness.

"Sure." Adam sips on his coffee as he moseys through us, until he's face-to-face with him.

"H-how tall are you?"

"I'm 6'5." Adam tilts his chin back just a bit, a little smirk on his stubbled face. "You?"

He coughs. "I'm 6'.4"

Bullshit, he's 6'1 max.

"Let's do this, shall we?" He starts to unbutton his white pajama long-sleeve, peeling it away to reveal quite impressive abs and pecks, with absolutely zero body fat.

He pretends not to notice some women gushing in quiet awe, but he's happy about it.

"What I want to demonstrate is that being small gives you the advantage of speed." He emphasizes to us. "Watch how he fails to block my attacks. Ready?"

Adam tips his cup in the air with a nod.

"HI-YAW! YAW! YAW! HI-YAW! YAW! HI-YAW!" The instructor goes nuts, throwing kicks and punches at Adam. It's unhinged. It's disturbing. And most of all, it's embarrassing.

Adam backs up and ducks down each time. His muscles are quick and precise, flowing in a smooth, yet unexpected rhythm. It's arousing to watch. I just wish he had his shirt off.

"Wow!" The instructor stops and wiggles his finger at him. He's boiled red and sweating. "Someone's been watching my YouTube videos, haven't you? No wonder you're so prepared!"

Yeah, I'm sure that's what it is.

"Teach us how to block his hits!" I cheer for the instructor. Finally, this class is getting interesting. "Come on, don't be scared! He won't hit too hard."

Adam deadpans at me like an eighty-year-old grandpa.

"W-well, if he promises not to cheat...I'd love to demonstrate for the ladies..." He seems to silently beg Adam to save whatever's left of his dignity.

"Alright, alright..." Adam puts his cup down and raises his knuckles in front of his face, getting into his position. "I'll be gentle."

The instructor stumbles into a similar stance, bouncing on his feet back and forth. He scuttles like a rat on a drainpipe every time Adam makes a move.

"Come on!" The class encourages him. "You got this!"

"Sensei! Sensei! Sensei!" I chant, cupping my hands over my mouth.

Adam throws a medium-speed punch, waits for a beat, then again with his other arm. The instructor gasps and folds his body in half to dodge it.

"Whoo!" He praises himself, shocked at his own success, and now becoming fueled by it.

"Yeah!" I cheer on, deepening my voice. "Come on, Adam. Get him!"

He chuckles at our enthusiasm and the instructor seems to be enjoying himself as well. I'm thinking maybe they'll even become friends after the class is finished.

Adam throws another round of punches, now more relaxed. He's having fun, letting his guard down, then suddenly the instructor bitch-slaps him across the face.

Adam's eyebrows come together for a moment, as he sizes him up.

"Whoopsie." The instructor laughs. "I'm sorry. My hand must've—"

Adam slams his fist into his eye. It happens so fast, for a moment I don't believe it. The women scream in fear, jumping on their feet. They don't know what to do.

Meanwhile, Adam bends and reaches to help the dizzy instructor off the mat. "Hey. You goo—"

"HI-YAW!" The instructor flies his foot into Adam's balls. I hear them crunch all the way from here.

Adam grunts out and wheezes, turning beet red. His vein pops out of his neck and forehead, as he clutches his goodies.

"You son of a bitch, he was trying to help you!" I storm over to the laughing monkey, clenching my hands.

"He started it!"

"You slapped him, stupid!"

"You're fucking dead." Adam tackles him to the ground and starts choking the life out of him.

"Dude! Chill!" I yank the collar of his shirt, trying to pull him away. The man is a mountain. "Adam! Yo!"

The instructor taps his shoulder aggressively, his eyeballs about to explode. I know Adam won't kill him, but he could still get sued. I don't know if I'd be able to bail him.

"It's not worth it, please let's go home." I try a different approach. I caress his stone-hard shoulders and dig into the muscle, massaging them. "Please, Adam. Please, let's go home."

Adam immediately releases him and the instructor takes a large gulp of air.

"Let's get out of here." I grip his wrist—well, half of it—to drag Adam out. "Come on!"

A/N
A little bit of cheese and fluff for my lovely brats ❤️

I also want to let you know, if you've read my other books, Selena is the biggest masochist out of all the other MCs and Adam is the biggest sadist. So....read with caution, y'all.