Selena

I'll choose solitude over everything.

No extra opinions. No unnecessary judgments. No useless small talk.

I love being alone. I love the control it allows over my environment. What my space looks like. What sounds are allowed and not allowed.

With people, there's the burden of behavioral expectations. So that they feel comfortable, at the cost of your own discomfort. Smile, so they know you're nice. Ask questions, so you appear friendly. Don't sit like that, it's weird.

Bitch, if I could, I WOULD. What kind of a masochist do you take me for? The only pain I like is from habanero peppers and spanking. Okay? Not these bullshit mental health problems.

Which is why, I'd rather move to a different country. Away from everyone who knows me and expects me to be a certain way. I can start fresh, learn from my mistakes, and live a life that's true to who I am, without my overbearing dad.

So naturally, I spend the day in my room, researching every fact that exists about Germany.

Turns out, people like to go to parks butt-naked and eat sausages at 6 in the morning. Reddit also tells me that Germans are generally grumpy people, which means I'd fit right in.

I ignore Adam who occupies the living room, with of course, the noticeable exception of using the bathroom to shower.

It's so weird. A stranger is washing his ding dong in my bathtub.

At 8:44 PM I suffer a heart attack when I leave the room to get my Grubhub order. I halt in the hallway, gawking at the Dothraki power emanating from Adam's shirtless back. He stands hauntingly still, burning holes at the front door.

"I know right, aren't doors amazing?" I say, strutting past him—

He stops me by grabbing my wrist. "I'll be the one to open your doors from now on." He raises a questioning dark eyebrow at my stunned silence.

"Does that include the bathroom?"

"Try to manage that on your own." He replies with equal sarcasm, eyes narrow.

It makes me smirk. "Really? But I'm not sure how to wipe my ass. What if I hurt myself?"

He huffs, releasing my wrist. The imprint of his warmth tingles pleasure into my skin. He approaches the door with measured, steady steps, his hand slowly reaching for the gun tucked in the back of his black jeans.

"Be careful." I warn. "It's extra spicy."

My Thai noodles, of course. I'm sure they're armed in a plastic bag when the delivery guy left them at the door. I scoff at Adam's confused glance over the shoulder. What an idiot.

Anywho. At 10:30 PM, I decide to bother him, because why not? He's bothering my peace. I turn on my laptop in my bedroom and raise the volume high enough for him and all the neighbors to hear a series of disturbing porn videos. I wear headphones, of course. Am I embarrassed? Sure. But is it effective? Yes.

Or at least, I hope. I can only handle twenty minutes of it, though. When I turn it off, the living room is quiet. Maybe he's sleeping. I put my headphones back on and edit some of the new chapters I wrote for my teacher and student erotica. At around midnight, I put my headphones away to get some sleep, but Adam is watching videos on his phone.

I try to ignore it.

I try.

But the unpredictable sound patterns crawl on my skin and shred my nerve endings. Not knowing when he plans to stop spikes me with irrational anxiety and the only way I can calm down is if I get some answers. Even though it's utterly ridiculous.

I toss the bedsheets off and throw on a black robe, scuttling outside to the living room. He's slouched on the couch, too large for the space, with his neck down at a ninety degree angle as he watches videos on his phone. No doubt causing a disc herniation.

"Adam?" I bite back my bitchy annoyance, gnawing on my lip when he looks at me. His forehead wrinkles with silent curiosity. "Do you mind if I ask you to use headphones?"

"I don't use headphones while I work."

"You're on TikTok." I scowl.

"Because I'm bored."

"Okay, but...how long do you plan to watch videos for?"

"I'm sorry, did I interrupt your porn?"

I roll my eyes. "No..."

"Oh, thank God. I was worried."

I chuckle under my breath. "I'm sorry, I was trying to get on your nerves. Did it actually trigger you?"

"No, it was just annoying."

"Oh, good." I put my hand on my chest, sighing in relief, which only furthers his bewildered scowl. "No, because I can't handle certain sounds. Like, I need to wear headphones in loud public spaces, and I can't have two sources of sounds happening at the same time, I have meltdowns and stuff. I was just trying to bother you, I'd never intentionally trigger someone."

"Oh." Adam moves his phone away. "Alright—"

"No, no!" I put my hands up to stop him. "Please, watch whatever you want. Just, it would help a lot if I knew when to expect it to finish, that's all. It's the unknown that makes me uncomfortable."

"I'll just stop now, it's no problem—"

"I don't want to micromanage you—"

"You're not micromanaging me." His lips curve with undeniable authority, the depth of his voice stroking my spine. "You can't, actually."

I fumble with my hands. "I just don't want to be rude." People always think I'm rude when I'm honest, when I voice my feelings, when I try to set boundaries. "It's not you, it's me. I have weird sensory processing issues. You know when cats attack if you pet them for too long? I'm like that, I can get overstimulated without even realizing."

"I got it."

"Do you? It sounds like you're just saying that so I shut up."

His eyes widen. "How..."

I shrug. "It's fine, people always get uncomfortable when I talk too much or when I get too honest. I'm used to it." I turn to head back to my room. "Anyway, goodnight!"

"I appreciate your honesty." He remains calm. "It makes it easier to do my job."

I pause. "Really?"

"Of course. I need to know when and where you might become overwhelmed, and what to do to make sure you feel better."

Butterflies flood my stomach. Professionally. They're business butterflies, wearing suits.

"I appreciate the work ethic..." I say awkwardly, walking backwards toward my room. "Okaaay, goodnight. Sorry for the word vomit."

"No problem." He looks down, smiling. The kind of smile that creates lines around his cheeks.

Did he hear me say goodnight? He knows I'm going to sleep, right?" "Goodnight," I say to make sure.

"Night, sweetheart."

The next couple of days can only be described as excruciatingly awkward. Mostly because of me.

I work and study from home, visiting campus only when it's absolutely necessary. Like if I have a test or if my manager asks me to. I don't even grocery shop. I order online and get delivery.

Now do you understand why I don't believe in this stalker crap? Who would stalk me? I bet my left toe that Adam is bored out of his mind, but he doesn't complain out loud. I mean, why would he? He's making easy money. Every time I leave the room, he's either on his phone with the volume set on low or napping without a shirt on.

On a few occasions, I hear him flush in the bathroom, close cabinets in the kitchen, or shave with an electric razor in front of the vanity outside my bedroom. Meanwhile, I struggle to sleep, tossing and turning all night, and waking up depressed and my back splitting in half.

It's that dark, traumatizing morning on Thursday that makes me wish I could bleach my poor eyes.

It's 6 AM and my stomach is growling, but I also want to sleep. It takes me an eternity drag myself to the living room. It's still dark. I don't bother putting on a robe. I'm wearing these cheeky black cotton shorts with a matching long sleeve.

I squint to make sure the sleep doesn't go away, and pad towards the kitchen for a banana. From my peripheral vision, I see Adam sprawled on the couch. The green bedsheets I gave him are pooled by his feet, revealing him in nothing but black briefs. I don't want to be a creep, so I don't stare at him. Although, I do notice that he sleeps with one knee bent, which I find kind of funny.

I tiptoe past him and into the kitchen, when I notice the bowl of fruits I left on the counter. Why go for one banana when I can take the whole thing for breakfast? That way, I don't have an excuse to leave my room much. That's my genius plan when I grab the heavy bowl in my hands and carefully spin to head back.

My stupid, stupid eyes land on the bodyguard once again. Maybe it's the way the dark room swallows his large form, or the way his tattooed arms blend into the shadows, or the way his stern face is so peaceful as he sleeps on his back, using one arm behind him as a pillow.

Holy moly guacamole sweet Jesus baby cakes. That's a monster morning log. Not wood. A LOG.

The gasp I let out is so dramatic, so humiliating. I drop the bowl. All the persimmons and oranges and apples and pears crash on the floor, including the wooden bowl with metal legs. So you can imagine the obnoxious sound they make at 6 AM in the morning. I'm ready to die now.

"Did you just trip on your own foot?" Adam opens his stoic eyes and settles them on me.

"Oh my God, you're awake?!"

He casually notices his buddy downstairs and lifts the sheets over his waist. "My bad." He bends his arm back behind his head.

Is this actually happening? I just saw Adam's boner. I am a creep. It was so impressive—Stop. The cold air grows hot, clinging to my neck. I'm still in shock as I lower to put the fruits back. I mean, I figured he'd be huge. He has that big dick energy—No, enough. I shake my head. Creep. Don't. Just because it's big doesn't mean he knows how to use it—Stop thinking, oh, you need help! I reach for the apple that's rolled near the coffee table, stealing a quick glance up at him.

He's already staring at me.

Not moving. No sound, except the annoying vibrating buzz of the fridge. I'm still on the floor, except I didn't realize until now, I'm in a suggestive, submissive position. On my knees, sitting back on my heels. My long-sleeve has a deep V-neck and it's basically see-through. Did I mention I have nice boobs? Objectively.

Whatever. I saw his boner, he can handle a nipple. I stay cool and stand, I repeat his words back. "My bad." And I turn around, leaving.

I realize instead of raising my blood pressure with horrible porn, I can get on Adam's last nerves by embracing my feminine energy. So, hours later when it's time to start the day, I wear a skin-tight knit bodysuit with spaghetti straps and push-up cups.

"Try to control your little friend this time." I roll my eyes, pushing a coffee pod into the Nespresso machine.

"You know it's normal, right?" he says over my shoulder. I can feel his eyes burning on my back, the heated tension licking up my spine.

"You want coffee?"

"Please."

Even when he begs, it sounds commanding.

"I'm sorry?" I play dumb to hear it one more time.

"I'll take a coffee."

I twist to face him, leaning against the counter. "I'll take a coffee..." I raise my brows.

"What?"

"Say please..." I say with a chiding smile.

"Please what?"

"Please make me coffee?"

"Mm." He clicks his tongue with a roguish smirk, and gets off his chair. "Since you asked nicely." He comes over where I'm standing, and pulls out a coffee mug from a drawer. The smell of leather and spice emit from his aftershave or deodorant, I'm not sure. "Go sit your pretty ass down."

I gape at his bold change of behavior, moving to the bar stool where he was sitting. "Are you hitting on me?"

"I don't hit on clients."

"Then what are you doing?"

He places the freshly poured, steaming and frothy cup of coffee in front of me. "The same thing you're doing." He crosses his arms over his bare, broad chest, sweeping a quick look over my outfit. "You think that bothers me?"

"What?" I tilt my head.

"You know what."

"Is something wrong?" I pout at my pushed up breasts, then at him.

"No." He takes a sip, as if he's considering it. His tongue pokes out and swipes over his top lip, catching the excess liquid. "It doesn't bother me."

"Good..." I lean my forearms on the counter, staring right back. "I'd be terrified to find out what you do when you're...bothered."

A quick, dark chuckle leaves his chest.

"What?" I narrow my eyes.

He studies me, amused, edging my short patience to its limit.

My phone rings on the counter, with my best friend Imaan's caller ID. I pick up, about to tell her now isn't the best time, but she beats me to it.

"I'm so sorry to do this, Selena. It was supposed to be a surprise. But with everything that's been going on..." She trails off, breathing nervously into the phone. "I have to ask."

I freeze. "What's wrong?"

A/N
Sorry guys, no matter what I did, Selena was so awkward, she literally has no idea how to handle this new living arrangement so she's acting stupid xD  I mean what the hell would you do, if you were in her situation?!

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