I Didn't Ask For A Bodyguard!

♀: "Countdown."

^Killers in their clown masks (I know, freaky right? O.O)

**Not Edited (Please ignore the grammar and spelling mistakes. ;A;)**

"Survival instincts are your best friend."

-

♀ Aria POV ♀

"I could be stalking people on tumblr right now. I could be reading fanfiction. But noooo let's stick Aria in a dress and have her play coat rack," I mumbled, trying to balance the load of clothes on my hand. "Who the heck even buys leopard print jackets? This is fugly. A fugly jacket is what you are."

"Excuse me, do you know where the bathroom is?"

I peaked toward the side and gasped as (yet another) good looking guy cocked an eyebrow. He was dressed with one the same outfit as the waiters my parents hired and looked damn good in it. I don't trust him. Anyone who looks that good in a waiter outfit cannot be trusted.

'Why do rich people have good looking children? This is not fair. This is not helping the rich people stereotype. I bet it's plastic surgery. Okay probably not but I need to boost my self esteem somehow.'

"Uh... um... There," I said vaguely, pretending like I knew where the heck the bathroom is (let's be serious, I barely go to the fifth floor of this building- heck I didn't even knew a fifth floor existed until like, five seconds ago- but it'd be even more awkward saying I don't know where it is so sending a person to the other side of the room basically guarantees time for my escape).

"Thanks," He smiled before turning.

"You're welcome," I smiled tightly as he started sauntering away.

'Run!' My mind screamed as I threw all the clothes up into the air and dashed for the closest door to make sure he never finds out I sent him to a place without a bathroom.

Mission: Accomplished.

I am so good at this blending in thing.

~*~*~*~*~

"Mom-"

"Go find a waiter sweetie," Mom smiled tightly, shoving a wine glass in my hand and pushing me towards the direction of the kitchen (translation: 'get out of the way before you ruin our perfect model image.')

I huffed and angrily chugged the rest of the unfinished wine down, turning down a hall before cocking my head at a group of waiters clustered together in one of the hallways, holding some type of black bag.

Well, I found the waiters.

"Hey, can you-"

"Shut up," The bathroom guy (see I told you good looking people can't be trusted) who was talking to me before growled, grabbing me from behind and putting a gloved hand over my mouth, gun pointed at my forehead. "I'm going to let go of you and you're going to come with us, you got that?"

I nodded frantically, because honestly, at that point, the guy could have told me to slap an unicorn and as illegal as that sounds, I wanted to live.

And then apologize to all unicorns everywhere. I am sorry.

The other group of waiters were pulling on gas masks and loading guns and grenades (I think. I don't really know it might have been a smoke bomb or something).

"...So... I'm guessing you're not a waiter?"

The guy with the gun gave me an incredulous look and I winced.

"Sorry usually I don't talk back, I think there was something in the wine. Give me like, five minutes and I'll go back to being derpy and stupid, promise."