The Wild Child's Bodyguard

Don't piss me off

• the Wild Child's bodyguard •

I scream.

Then on reflex I put a hand on my heart and scream some more, as if it'll calm my heart rate somehow.

It doesn't, because the initial fear has melted into anger.

A pair of too-beautiful sea-green eyes are staring back at me.

"What the hell, Ryder," I scream at him, "I thought I was going to die!"

He cock his head to one side, looking confused, "You can think?"

"I was confessing all my sins!" I scream again.

"Huh," he says, continuing his stride towards me, "-by all means, please continue. But since I'm not keen about staying overnight in school, could you confess while I walk you back?"

I'm so tempted to pull out my hair in frustration, "Walk me back?"

"I'm your bodyguard. It's my duty."

"So you're going to take it upon yourself to walk me home every day? And why did you even enrol yourself here? Don't you have your own school back in London or something?"

He shrugs. Shrugs! "It's in the job description."

I let out a frustrated sigh, my anger fading away into a throbbing irritation. The least he could do is stop acting like being around me is a chore- like come on, tonnes of guys would kill to be in his position right now!

But whatever. He doesn't want to work, and I don't want a bodyguard. Mission to get Ryder fired: commence. First task: gain his trust.

As if he's reading my thoughts, he throws out his usual comment of Ryder-ness, "Are you going to just stand there and waste more of my evening than you already have?"

Oh now he's done-

Shhhhhh. Come on, double-o-Lisa. How are you going to gain his trust if you pounce on him right now and gorge his eye out with your Mac lipstick?

My inner voice has a point for once.

Damn right I have. Now smile and say that you appreciate him and his efforts to keep you safe. You already dress the part, now- action!

I open my mouth to do just that, before a thought creeps up on me-

"How did you even know I had detention?" I sputter out. Great job, Lisa. Great job.

He shrugs again. Seriously, this guy may be hot and all but he needs to know that shrugging does not answer to first world problems- first world problems being the extinction of my freedom!

I stare at him until he finally says, "I have my ways."

Then I spend another minute glaring at him until he coughs and mutters, "I heard the rumours and followed you ever since your last class, biology."

"You followed m- you know what, forget it," I huff in irritation and continue walking to the main entrance at a brisk pace. I'll be nice to him tomorrow. Today, he's pissing me off.

-/-

Now that the adrenaline has left, my stomach is growling. I have to fight back the thoughts of a greasy burger at Bob's, but really- what can be stronger than the intense desire for burgers?

Apparently, the intense desire to make sure everybody thinks you're on a 'salad and water' diet.

We're a block away from Bob's diner. My stomach is yearning, my brain is being logical. Why must the battle between the stomach and the brain be so horrid?