Bodyguard University: I Hate Loving You

Surrendering

Kinn's POV:

The phrase, "He's as stubborn as a bull," didn't begin to explain the cretinous bodyguard standing in the giant schoolyard. Internally, I facepalmed at the scene as I exited the library.

Porsche, my favorite person, decided to make his point loud and clear. Yesterday marked the shoe exchanging incident. Today, he was meters from me without shoes. He wiggled his toes uncomfortably against the heating cement of the sidewalk lining the grass. I knew damn well that Porsche had other shoes. This was his way of saying, "You owe me, asshole."

Standing next to him was Phupha. Based on his pointing and frowning, he shared my judgement.

Gripping my backpack strap hanging on my shoulder, I walked up to them with a cocked eyebrow.

This is going to be a fun conversation.

Seeing me, Porsche clenched his jaw and teetered in place. His tall friend crossed his arms and sternly eyed me up and down. Tense.

I opened the conversation with a snide remark. "Comfortable?"

"Not at all. I already have three blisters," Porsche complained with a smile.

His feet were dusted brown, and most of his toenails were chipped. If he wasn't going to put shoes on for himself, he should've done the rest of the world a favor and at least worn socks.

Did he really think this was going to persuade me to buy him shoes?

I chuckled and stuck my foot out towards him, showcasing white sneakers with worn out and frayed laces that I often retied. They weren't fancy, designer shoes, but they did the job. "These usually prevent that."

He scowled and didn't bother to look down. Instead, his cutting gaze fixated on my eyes. "You're the last one to talk about precautions."

If it weren't for Techno, the knife incident wouldn't have happened. I had an accident, unlike his deliberate decision to be barefoot.

"I'm not buying you shoes," I clarified, in case his thick skull hadn't gotten the message.

Porsche was too much like a child. Whenever he didn't get his way, he threw a tantrum or tried to get attention. It was difficult to believe he was the top of his class when he had the emotional intelligence of a toddler. Perhaps, all the seniors had the mental capacity of a baby. That was the only logical explanation.

Phupha gandered past my shoulder. "There's Tian. I'm going to walk him to class," he said quickly. Not even a goodbye, and he had jogged away from the conversation.

Porsche reached out to grab his arm in protest and groaned at his abandonment.

"Are you walking me to class, too?" I joked. In actuality, I didn't want him to take me anywhere. I had business to take care of.

"As if!"

I was relieved by his objection. My fear of his gradual investment in our Pairing was alleviated. He was back to the Porsche that didn't want anything to do with me.

I laughed. "Right. Have fun with your blisters," I said.

He pouted. "Have fun with your murderous tendencies."

I almost said, "Better watch your back," but I kept that remark to myself.

As I walked a few meters away, I suddenly heard an "Ouch!"

I stopped and turned around. Standing on one leg, Porsche was holding his foot and hissing in pain. He plucked a pointy stick from the bottom center of his foot. Flat. His foot was flatter than a cutting board. There was barely an arch. It must've hurt like hell to not have support. But that was his choice. I didn't force him to not wear shoes.