The Guardian Angel

Chapter-7: Leah

I twirled my hair around my finger, tugging at it lightly. Despite the lack of sleep at night in the car, I wasn't able to sleep in the room. That hadn't stopped James from sleeping. I guessed the painkiller had knocked him out again. Even then, he'd woken up by seven-thirty-five-ish and walked to the bathroom. His movements were slow and deliberate as if to not wake me up. A few moments later, I heard the shower open.

I couldn't sleep, but that didn't mean I didn't feel sluggish. Feeling a little embarrassed about yesterday, I pulled the sheet off me and stood up. I had put my jeans back on and was putting my top on.

As I wore the top, it got stuck over my head, refusing to come any further. Blinded, I hopped around the room, crashing my knee against the bed frame, and let out a string of curses.

I faintly heard the door to the bathroom open through the fabric covering my entire head. I whirled toward the sound and realized my almost bare chest was on full display. I stepped back, only to hit the bed frame again and fall onto the bed as I struggled to wear the top.

A defeated sigh left my lips as I felt James move closer to me. A small chuckle left him as he pulled and adjusted parts of it near my head before pulling it down, the cloth finally unstuck.

"Thanks," I told him, knowing my cheeks were as red as Mars. Not only from the lack of oxygen I must add.

The corner of his mouth tipped up as he said, "Welcome."

He glanced down, his eyes running over me. I still felt bad for what I did yesterday. Sort of. I was pissed that when I finally had something I'd wanted for the longest time, someone was trying to ruin it for me. It may sound cliché, wanting a man who loved you for who you were. Whose face brightened with a smile the second he laid eyes on you. Who treated me right. With love and respect.

My entire life, I'd been with my parents whose life seemed barely affected by mine. Every accomplishment of mine seemed to be a waste, something trivial when my parents would just glance at me with disinterest at what I showed them.

They weren't interested in a drawing my second-grade teacher gave a star on. They weren't interested when I ranked first in sixth. They weren't interested when I won tournaments for the school.

The only time they showed interest was when they could marry me off to Stephen. Because it would help them. At least from the way I saw it, they never loved me.

That was all I wanted. Someone to listen to me. Someone to hold me in their arms when I was low. Someone who didn't belittle my accomplishments, no matter how small.

I felt my chin being tipped up. James' thumb shot out, caressing and smoothing the wrinkles that had formed from the frown that had settled on my face.

"What's the matter?" He asked, cupping the side of my cheek.

"I—" I started, choking on my words. "I'm scared."

An expression I wasn't able to place settled on his features. "Of?"

"I'm afraid I'll lose yo—" I was cut off by the doorbell ringing. I swear to God, if that was Rachel at the door, a slipper was flying to her face. I glanced down at the floor where my sneakers laid. A sneaker to her face then, whatever.

James sighed, his hand dropping from my face. Anger made me stomp to the door, opening it with much more force than necessary and completely embarrassing myself.

Because the person at the door wasn't Rachel. It was a waiter. And the poor man was so surprised, he almost dropped his tray. The tray had a pot full of what I guessed was coffee. My cheeks flushed as I realized how hard I'd opened the door. Damn, I needed to chill.