The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 6

Have you ever played the quiet game? I have, and I always won. I was an expert. The key to winning is to get lost in your head while the others around you itch to talk. It's an introvert's game.

The quiet game normally ends when someone gets bored or when you grow out of it because no one wants to play anymore. Well apparently Aiden must have been a world champion because the game continued for the full car ride, and with LA traffic, that lasted for THREE. FULL. HOURS.

I finally gave in and lost the stupid game when we arrived back at my apartment. "Um... You don't have to walk me to my door," I said, when Aiden parked his car on the street. He ignored my comment, climbed out, and walked around to the passenger side. I bit back a groan as he opened the door without a word and waited for me to lead the way to my apartment.

Things took a turn from awkward to completely mortifying when I opened the door. "I'll see you in three hours right?" I said, turning to look at Aiden. He raised a brow, a look of slight irritation making a thin dimple form between his brows. His lips formed a thin line and I had to yank my eyes away from his face completely to keep from blushing again. This guy probably thinks I've never talked to a human being before.

"I have to do a sweep of your apartment," Aiden said, trying to move past me.

I placed my hands on either side of the door frame to block his entrance. My eyes went wide in panic. "What?!? No. It's fine. I'm sure no one is in there that shouldn't be."

Aiden's eyes narrowed. "Are you willing to stake your life on that claim?"

I swallowed and let out an uneasy sigh. The truth was, I had no idea if there was anyone inside. But my apartment was a disaster. That's what happened when you lived alone. You transformed into a dragon hoarder of all things, letting piles of items gather wherever you wanted without a care because no one would ever see it. But now an attractive man stood outside my door and I had to decide if it was worth dying just to keep him from seeing the mess.

"Can I just have a ten second head start?"

Aiden crossed his arms. "That kind of defeats the purpose."

After wrestling with the idea of death versus embarrassment, I finally moved aside and held my breath as Aiden walked into my apartment, praying that by some miracle, his sharp gaze would miss everything other than an intruder if there was one inside.

But as my luck had been nothing but a joke lately, he stopped three feet inside, eyes glued to five Pop-Tart wrappers on my kitchen counter, a pot crusted with old pasta sauce and the piece de resistance... an oatmeal-colored bra air drying on the back of the kitchen chair. It wasn't even one of my cute ones! It was the one I wore when all my other ones were being cleaned! And there it sat, ugly, and at the center of Aiden's attention.

And this is how I die... not with a stalker, but with embarrassment.

It felt like time slowed down. Embarrassment— no, mortification does that. It's like the universe enjoys playing your life in slow motion when you want to crawl into a hole and die. It's like it wants to make you stand there, and feel everything in a dramatic pause that never ends, while shoving your face into your embarrassment.

"I have a question," Aiden said, his back still to me, eyes still on my chaotic mess of a life. "And I need you to be honest when you answer..."

Oh gosh, why do I get the feeling I'm about to be lectured?

"Was your house ransacked?" Aiden turned to look at me, face completely serious. "I ask because it wasn't mentioned in your file." He paused for a brief moment, watching my expressions. "Or do you choose to live like this?"