His Secret Bodyguard

Part 18

"Does it really matter?" I asked. "Yeah, of course it matters. I mean, I think you probably do. 'Cause your pain tolerance is insane. I mean, you pulled a bullet out of your own stomach.." He explained, grabbing the sheets and pulling them back. Before I could stop him, he had his hand on my stomach, tracing over the still-pink scar from where the bullet had hit.

"Could you not touch me?" I asked, shoving his hand off of my stomach. He laughed. His eyes caught on the two scars alongside my tattoo. He reached to touch them and I grabbed his hand, stopping him.

"What is that?" He asked. He reached over with his other hand, tracing over the scars with his thumb. I used my other hand to grab his, pushing him away from me. "Could you stop? Keep your hands over there." I stated, pushing his hands back, and pulling the sheets over my stomach.

"What are those from?" He asked, looking at me. I laughed. "What makes you think I'm going to tell you that, when I won't answer your other questions?" I replied. "Well why don't you? Answer me that. Why won't you talk to me? It's not like I'll tell anybody." He said. He was still intently watching me.

I sighed, checking the time on the clock. "We should get going." I said, getting off the bed. He was still lying there, watching me. "Are they cuts? Do you cut yourself?" He asked. I looked at him. "No. I'd never do that. Now get up." I answered, going into the bathroom. I grabbed my stuff, walking back out and putting everything in my bag. "I have to change." He said, getting off the bed. "Seriously?" I asked. "Well, yeah. Can't really wear this." He said, looking down at what he was wearing. It was a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt.

"Yes, because going to the airport is very important. Maybe I'll go put on an old prom dress." I commented sarcastically. He sent me a look. "I meant I should put on trousers." He stated.. "Well, it's August. But hey, you do whatever you want. I'll be in the car." I said, grabbing my bag and walking out of the room.

I made it down to the lobby and saw one guy with a camera. He was sitting on the window ledge by the door, waiting. He saw me, and quickly stood up, lifting the camera. I pulled out the red card I have, holding it up a little.

He immediately put the camera down, apologizing. I nodded, walking out the main entrance and putting the card back in my pocket. I got in my car, shutting the door and waiting..

I guess I should probably explain that.. The red card essentially means I'm not allowed to be photographed by paparazzi. But I have to show it to them in real-time, or they can do whatever they want. It's hard to obtain one, but I have some money, and am pretty high up on the market of security detail. What, with my hacking and everything.. There's a few different cards that I have. Certain people recognize certain cards. They come in handy in a lot of different places.

After a few minutes, Harry came out, putting his bag in the back, and getting in the passenger seat. He'd changed into flared blue jeans.

"You could've warned me there was a pap down there." He said. "He didn't bother me. Besides, you were getting on my nerves this morning, so you deserved that." I replied, pulling out of the spot. "So, are you not coming to Oregon?" He asked. "Why do you say that?" I questioned.. He shrugged. "Jeff only said that you were escorting me to my flight, and then you were free to go." He explained.

"No, I have to drive there." I said. He nodded, thinking about it. "I mean, I'm already in the car. What if I just skipped my—" I held up my hand. "No. I don't need to be aggravated by you anymore." I said.

He grabbed my hand before I could put it down. I tried to pull it back, but he had a firm enough grip on it.. He used his free hand to trace over another scar I have stretched across the back of my hand. "What.. Why do you have so many of these?" He asked.

"Give me my hand." I stated. He looked over at me. "Just.. Tell me something. Please. Did you do this to yourself?" He asked. I finally pulled my hand free, putting it back on the wheel.. There had been pity in his tone. It annoyed me.

"I already told you, Harry. No. I didn't. And I never would." I replied. I didn't answer a lot of his questions, but that was one I felt like I needed to..
"So then.. How'd you get them?" He asked. I groaned. "Stop asking me questions. I don't want to talk about any of it. Just leave it alone. Please." I commented, and he sighed. "Fine." He murmured. It took another fifteen minutes to get to the airport.

"Great; goodbye." I said, stopping. He looked at me. "You have to walk me there and wait with me." He said. "Why?" I asked. "Just, go park." He stated. "Don't tell me what to do." I replied, glaring at him. But, I did either need to kick him out of the car, or keep moving. There were cars and taxis lining up behind me..

I sighed, pulling away from the curb and following the signs to the parking. The woman there said something, and Harry reached across me, handing her his card.

Once parked, we walked into the airport. He made me go with him the entire way. Usually you'd have to buy a plane ticket to even get past the security checkpoint. But, I have a card for that too.

Once we got to the boarding gate, he set his bags down, sitting next to me. We had about thirty minutes until he could board his flight.. "So, you didn't do that to yourself?" He asked, his eyes being drawn to the scar on my hand. "For the millionth time, no." I said. He nodded. "How many of those do you have?" He asked. I rolled my eyes. "I thought I told you to leave it alone." I commented. He didn't say anything.

"If you must know, there's more scars then there are tattoos." I said, feeling him watching me. "Are they from your security work? Did you work for someone else before me?" He asked. "I'm not answering any of your questions about this." I stated. "Fine, ok. How many tattoos do you have?" He asked. I laughed. "You're so annoying." I said, watching as a few girls spotted him and started walking over..

He stood up, greeting each of them.. I sat there, and realized I'd now normally be pulling out my phone. But, he'd never given it back. They started taking pictures and everything, and then they went off on the normal obsessive fan speech. Basically every girl that he meets tells him how much they love him and how he's changed their lives so much and all that. He's probably heard it a million times at this point, but always listens to them..

They occasionally would glance in my direction. But I was watching all the people walking through the concourse. After they left, Harry sat back down next to me. "Give me my phone back." I stated, and he looked over at me. He didn't say anything, and I glanced in his direction. "I'm serious. You can't keep it." I said, looking at him.. He was staring at my leg.

In between the rips of the jeans, there was another scar visible. He reached over, touching it. I shoved his hand away. "Stop touching me." I stated. "You need to tell me what these are. I can't have someone who's hurting themselves working for me." He said. I sent him a look. "What, now you're biased against suicidal people?" I questioned.

He instantly got defensive over that. "No no, absolutely not. That's not what I was saying. Wait, are you suicidal?" He asked.

I laughed. "No. I'm not. I told you a million times, I didn't do this to myself. I have never intentionally hurt myself." I replied. He was watching me. "Uh huh.. So, there's more cuts? Like, under what you're wearing? How come I've never seen them before? You've worn shorts a lot." He asked. I shrugged. "Guess you don't pay attention to anyone but yourself." I said. He glared at me. "Shut up. I do pay attention to others. You're the one who doesn't." He stated.

"Right, okay. Sure, princess. That's why I'm sitting in the airport with you, instead of doing something I actually want to do." I commented, rolling my eyes.

Before he could say something back, another girl spotted him and walked over.....