Page 15 of Her Cruel Bodyguard

He is mad about something—he is mad at me. And if my observation has been correct for the past three days, he is mad about having to drive me to school. Only I cannot exactly understand why. I press the power button on my phone to see that we are twenty minutes early.

“Twenty minutes!” I screech, wishing I could burst his eardrums or claw at him for bringing me here twenty minutes earlier than supposed. I don’t like waiting around. And it’s not like he would allow me to frolic around campus by myself.

He and my father have scheduled my life. The routine is as robotic as them both, except thanks to Vittoria, my father now has blood streaming through his veins, but Fabio… Fabio is irredeemable.

I go from home to school, back home, then to my studio, and I never do any of these alone. Plus, I do all of these with him, and the painful part is that he makes it seem as though he has sworn an oath of silence around me.

“I want to take a walk,” I say, reaching for the door handle. But it clicks, letting me know he has locked it again. That’s a no—a loud no.

Classic.

It too lovely a sunny day to sit in the car stewing and pining for the man in front of me, wishing I could do more than get intoxicated by his scent of opulence and command, wishing every single second around him wouldn’t come with the constant, migraine-rendering effect of my heart cramping, my stomach flipping and my desire for him.

It’s frustrating having all these emotions and not knowing what to do with them. While the object of my misery moves confidently about, causing me even more misery just by existing in the same sphere with me.

“You are not great company,” I cross my arms over my chest and stare out the window at the few students roaming the lecture hall.

I sip my coffee, involuntarily soaking up the swash of colors in their outfits, hair, makeup, bags, the flowers around them, the green grass, the fiery sun, and rows of lecture halls.

I click my tongue, thinking of something to do to fill my time. I have a history class today so I didn’t bring my camera with me. I press the power button on my phone to check the time again. Seventeen more minutes! Bloody saints!

“Silence is good for the mind,” Fabio calls my attention to him, and I chuckle hysterically at the madness coming out of his mouth.

“I am not training to become a monk,” I grind out. “You could have given me a heads-up so I could have texted my boyfriend and told him I would be here earlier,” I poke, or maybe stab; I don’t care.

It has been getting more difficult to get a reaction out of him when I mention Paul lately. It’s Thursday, and I think it is a little too soon for him to stop being jealous or caring altogether. I know he cares, but that reaction I got out of him on Monday is nowhere to be found.

“Hmm,” he starts to stroke the steering wheel with his thumb.

“Hmm,” I huff at him and shoot a text to Gloria. It is not that I don’t like being in this enclosed space with him; it’s just I don’t know how long before I start to grovel for his attention, which will give him the upper hand.

I don’t want him to think I am in love with Paul and am still trying to mess around with him. I need some molecule of self-respect where Fabio is concerned.

Ten gruesome minutes later, I see Gloria hurtling towards us in an oversized mushroom-printed skirt and beige crop top, her hair the same untamed mess as her skirt.

“Help is here,” I say, sitting up. He unlocks the door. I hop out of the car, and the first thing I do is breathe in the fresh air—air that doesn’t twist and flip my inside, air that is void of Fabio. I hurry to Gloria.

“Are you good?” Gloria laughs softly, and I nod repeatedly. I am a little dramatic with the way I am breathing heavily, but it feels like I need to get a wave of oxygen through my lungs or risk passing out.

“Let’s get out of here,” I hook our hands and scuttle with her towards the lecture hall, just in time to see Paul swaggering towards us in the distance, wearing black jeans, boots, and a dark purple T-shirt. No backpack, no notebook.

“I called him because you said it was an emergency, and I didn’t think I would be here on time,” Gloria confesses with a tight grin.

“Thank you,” I don’t care for Paul’s presence, but I don’t exactly hate it either.

It is no longer news that I am doing this to get Fabio jealous. I told both of them over lunch at the cafeteria on Tuesday. I had to come out plain and tell them that I like Fabio and want to have him if he will have me. I didn’t want to lead Paul on or give Gloria further excuses to keep fawning about the romance she thought she was sensing between Paul and me.

They took it well. No, Paul took it well. He seemed unfazed by my revelation and told me he had thought as much. Gloria, on the other hand, didn’t know how to react at first, and to date, she has yet to react. But she seems to be loving the idea of watching a real-life telenovela play out before her.

“Is there a deadline in mind?” She looks at Fabio and then back at me.

“For what?” I know what she means, but I don’t want to think about the fact that I might have to continue with this charade longer than I was estimating.

“You are pretty obvious, you fucking like the man; he is not blind to it, no one is, and if he is not doing anything about it, don’t you think you should…” she trails, biting her lower lips to shovel down her words, partly because of the daggers I aim in her direction.

“I am in it, I will see it to the end,” I pin. I will. I am Eva Teso, after all. I am more like my father than anyone else. My easygoing self aside, when I want something, I get it. I don’t back down halfway. I wasn’t raised by that kind of man.

“He is doing you a favor,” she says, low-voiced. He is setting you free, fly baby,” she mimics a bird. “Soar,” her eyes widen. While I appreciate her enthusiasm, I don’t share her school of thought.

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