Page 21 of Love JD

but they’ll go around. I’m coming in.

Isla:

I said don’t come in.

Guard Dog:

You don’t pay me.

I let out a sound of frustration, packed up my books and notepad, and shoved them all back in my black backpack. This had been my reality for the better part of the week. I hobbled through my classes on a boot, my guard dog followed close behind, and I ditched her every chance I got. Tristan had hired a girl bodyguard so we could “hang out” in public without adding fuel to the scandal, and so I would feel comfortable having her around. It was thoughtful of him, and I hated him.

But even a discreet bodyguard did nothing to deflect the attention that had been turned on me. Everything had lined up just so to conspire against me. Tristan had named me an heir to Valehart Industries on my twenty-first birthday, then I’d been caught naked in Zev’s arms days later, and now the media thought I was positively salacious because my “naked boyfriend” had been caught at my apartment. Zev answering the door shirtless had been like napalm to the fire. Kaboom. There went my normal life.

It was bad enough to have my face plastered on every social media platform and gossip magazine in the country—there was nothing more isolating than scandalous fame. But now my classmates either avoided me or hounded me, there was no in-between, and I found myself hiding far more than socializing or trying to make friends. Robert was always there, although lately, that had begun to feel insidious for some reason I couldn’t put my finger on.

And on top of all that, apparently, Tristan had received word that there were creepy people watching me. Or something. I didn’t fully understand what he’d said because he’d been purposefully vague, but it had resulted in Guard Dog, and I despised the entire thing.

My only consolation was that Tristan had gone with Azura to Nova Scotia for some kind of marketing deal. He’d shut up slightly since then, and it had made ditching the Guard Dog way easier.

I ducked into the library shelves, looking around for a quiet nook somewhere I wouldn’t be seen. If Guard Dog couldn’t find me, then probably the reporters couldn’t either, right? Made sense to me. I weaved through the shelves and then waved awkwardly at a girl sitting in a stray desk cubby in a corner. She gave me a sideways look that clearly asked, “Why are you making eye contact with me right now?”

Because I’m socially awkward and don’t know how to be a human, apparently, I thought sardonically to myself. I hurried past her and searched desperately for a vacant study spot.

The library was packed, of course. Finals were nutty, and we were all walking around hanging from fraying threads of sanity that threatened to snap before we could make it to finals. I finally found an empty, navy-blue armchair in a corner of the History section and settled in with furtive glances around the bookshelves. No Guard Dogs. No reporters. It seemed safe to me.

I loved the smell of libraries. They smelled like new books and laminators, and they made soft shushing sounds as people shuffled around and turned pages. Sighing in relief, I pulled out my book and notes and lost myself in the process.

Several hours passed, and I relished the solitude. Lately, it felt like the people closest to me insisted on hovering over me. Robert hovered. Tristan hovered from thousands of miles away. Strangers hovered when I had an episode. The hired nurse hovered. Guard Dog hovered—

Oh, shit.

Tabitha “Guard Dog” lowered a green, hardback book with gold lettering to glare at me from the chair across the room. How long had she been there? Fuck me. Her black hair had been straightened today, and she wore a random gray T-shirt with lettering I couldn’t read over a pair of shredded, light wash jeans. She crossed her toned leg and I noticed that she was wearing black tennis shoes tied tightly. Probably for chasing bad guys.

She quirked a thick, black brow, licked her finger, and turned a page. Scary Guard Dog. At least she did look like she fit in with the other college kids with light makeup applied to her gold-brown skin and headphones around her neck. None would be the wiser that she was my security detail and not a student. I gave her a wave.

She glared daggers.

So much for remaining hidden. But, hey, my plan to remain unseen must have worked because the reporters hadn’t bothered us, and she had clearly allowed me to do my thing in peace and quiet. That was more than I could say for most of the significant people in my life. “Thanks,” I mouthed.

Tabitha blinked, and her eyes jumped to the right like she wanted me to look at something. I followed her gaze and saw a guy wearing a hoodie standing in front of one of the shelves. His fingers trailed over books, but he didn’t pick out anything. Or move. Also, he looked like forty-years-old and very clearly didn’t belong in a college library. More than likely, this was one of the reporters waiting for a chance to get pictures of me.

Oh. I made an “oops,” face for Tabitha’s benefit. After zipping up my stuff in my backpack, I texted her.

Isla:

Should I just… go?

Guard Dog:

You should follow directions.

Isla:

You’re testy

Guard Dog:

I’ll distract him and you go to lot 6

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