Blushing For The Bodyguard

Chapter 2 - You Can't Always Get What You Want

Hey Guys, BEFORE YOU READ!!! Please keep in mind that this chapter has strong uses of language and contains some rape scenes, if these things disturb you then PLEASE do NOT read on, you have been warned!

I don’t know exactly how long I was up in my room crying, but at some point, I fell asleep . . . to a nightmare.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here boys,” the man slurred, stumbling towards me as three other men around him laughed evilly.

I gripped my bag in fear, my eyes wide and I started to make my way in the opposite direction of the deep, dark alleyway.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain through my scalp as I realized the man had grabbed my hair, yanking it back sharply. “Not so fast there Gorgeous! We’re gonna have a little fun,” he whispered in my ear. I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Why did I walk?

I pulled away and screamed with all my might, but my tiny little body was no match for the man’s very muscular build. “This one’s mine boys,” he said, chuckling as he threw me to the ground and started to have his way with me . . .  

I jolted awake, screaming as two warm arms surrounded me. I looked up to see Dylan staring at me, concern in his deep, green eyes. I sobbed as I held onto him for dear life. There was something about him that was . . . reassuring . . . safe, and I haven’t felt that way in a long, long time. I don’t know what it was about him, I just knew that I could somehow trust him, and I didn’t know why. He smelled amazing, like he could have walked out of Hollister just a few minutes ago. It was intoxicating. He was so soft . . . and warm, not to mention his awesome muscles that you could see through his t-shirt. I could definitely tell there was a six pack under there. I somehow melted right into him, like I was meant to fit there . . . I was made for him.

Once my breathing had settled down, I looked up at him. He was staring back at me, his eyes looking into mine, filled with compassion and worry. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah . . . I-I . . . th-think,” I managed to choke out through sobs. He pulled me tighter to him and kissed my forehead, leaving it burning for what seemed to be desire, but couldn’t be, I mean, there was just no way I could be lusting after someone I had just met merely hours ago . . . must be my mind playing with me . . . yeah, that’s it. I then remembered why I was crying and pulled away.

He looked at me concerned and I returned his look with a hard glare. “Look,” I started, my tone stern before continuing, “I don’t mean to be rude, but there are some things you need to know. You don’t touch me. No one touches me. I don’t even let my parents or my sister touch me. Got it?” I finished, still looking at him harshly.

He returned the look with a pleading one. “Can I ask why?” he questioned, cautiously.

“No.” I replied a little harshly and walked over to my couch to watch TV. As much as I wanted him near me, to feel the safety in his touch, I wasn’t going to be hurt like that again. I knew that if I let him in, emotionally or physically, there was a huge chance that he wouldn’t even want me. Dylan was a player, and it was obvious. For one, he knew he was hot, and two, slutty girls don’t keep their hands off of hot guys. The world doesn’t go round without that type of unfortunate stuff. I needed to face the facts: Dylan would NEVER want a sick, twisted, messed up girl like me once he knew; he probably didn’t want me as is.

No guy like Dylan would ever want a girl like me. I wasn’t pretty or smart or funny or athletic and well, you get the point. Dylan was just too . . . perfect for me. He deserved someone way better who could give him their whole heart, not just bits and pieces like I could.