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And now they do know me as the girl whose bodyguard was shot dead right in front of her after he traded her to his drug dealer, who then sold her to a sex trafficking ring.
They know me for all the wrong reasons.
I wish I had a dollar for each time someone’s ever asked if they could interview me for their vlog or take a selfie with me to post on sites—not that I need the money. It’s the principle. I feel like a Kardashian, but without the fashion sense.
You wish you were a Kardashian. Idiot.
All I want is to be a normal college student. I want to have friends, go to parties, even go on dates. Is that too much to ask? I’m twenty-one years old, and I’ve never been on a date. Not once.
Charlene’s the only one who’s been nice to me and hasn’t asked me for a single thing. In fact, I’ve offered her money repeatedly to help her with expenses until she graduates and gets a job, but she refuses to accept a single penny.
As the professor starts his lecture, I concentrate on what he’s saying and take notes. It’s hard to block outherconstant chatter, the put-downs and the biting words, but I do my best. Occasionally, I glance over at Jason, who’s reading an e-book on his phone. He seems oblivious to everything around us, but whenever I shift in my chair—cross or uncross my legs—his posture changes, and I catch him watching me out of the corner of my eye. I feel oddly comforted by his presence.
Andrea and Sierra spend as much time sneaking peeks back at Jason as they do listening to the lecture. In fact, I catch a number of female students eyeing him. I don’t blame them. He’s nice to look at.
Forty-five minutes later, the professor shuts off the projector and asks if anyone has questions.
“Meet for lunch?” Charlene asks me as she puts away her laptop. “The usual spot?”
“I’ll be there.” I have English class next, while she has calculus. We always meet up for lunch afterward at the same corner window table in the cafeteria.
As we’re filing out of the classroom, Reese catches up with me. Jason’s on my left. Reese moves in on my right, walking so close to me that his arm brushes my shoulder. He gives Jason a cursory glance over my head, then redirects his attention to me. “How about that coffee, Layla?”
Apparently, he hasn’t forgotten.
My heart’s pounding. This is my chance to say yes. It’s just coffee, but that counts as a date, doesn’t it? Especially when the guy asks. But I have English class in ten minutes, and I’m not the type to skip. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have another class.”
“No problem,” he says easily. “How about a raincheck?” And before I can even answer him, he races off to join his friends.
I glance at Jason, who’s watching Reese’s retreating form. Then he snaps out of it and smiles at me. “Where to next?”
“English class.”
Jason steers me toward the exit, and we walk outside into the sunshine.
I can’t help smiling at the realization that someone just asked me out. It’s a first.
“Here, I’ll carry that,” Jason says as he takes my backpack from me and slips it over his shoulder.
Too bad the guy who asked me out isn’t the one I think I want.
Chapter 19
Jason Miller
She told the guy no. Granted, she said no because she has another class in ten minutes, so she didn’t actually have time to grab a coffee with the blond hulk. But still, she said no.
But what about next time? Assuming there is a next time. Assuming he asks her out again, which he probably will. I sure as hell would, if I were him. Hell, I’d ask her out if I was anyone other than myself.
I don’t even know if she’s interested in the guy. I guess this is something I’m going to have to get used to—guys asking her out. It’s not like I’m allowed to have an opinion on the subject of Layla dating. She’s an adult. If she wants to go out with someone, she can. I’ll be the one tagging along as a reluctant wingman.
I’m her bodyguard, nothing more and nothing less. My job is to make sure she’s safe and well at all times—and that’s it. Being a third wheel on a date is just something I’ll have to get used to. But if I’m being honest with myself, I admit the idea of Layla going out with someone bothers the hell out of me.
We have a professional relationship, damn it. Her parentshiredme to protect their daughter, and as a professional, it’s my job to carry out my duties with the utmost integrity. And that means I don’t get to have feelings about Layla’s personal life. If she wants to go out on a date, I’ll have to sit there, grin, and bear it.
And that’s a problem.
Because the thought of her going out with that blockhead makes me burn with jealousy. She’s too damn good for him—she’s way out of his league. She’s too beautiful, too sweet, too everything. He doesn’t deserve her attention.
