Page 3 of Imogen

“I think I’m going to get some fresh air,” I reply.

Before I can ask him to join me, he speaks, his eyes soft and on me. “I’ll come with you. There was a kid out there earlier causing trouble.”

I’m jumping with glee on the inside. It’s working. All I’ve wanted to do is get him alone. Get him to admit he feels whatever this is between us.

We begin to make our way down the corridor to the exit. “You finished your assignment?” I ask.

He works guarding those who need it. The last assignment he had was protecting a lad who was testifying in court against a gang member. Ben was supposed to stay with him until the lad went into witness protection.

“Yeah. He’s safe now. The gangs in that area are known to recruit school kids. It’s a shame him and his family have had to leave the life they know, and all their family, but it needed to be done.”

I never thought of it like that. “I’m glad he’s safe though. I heard Dad talking to Mum about it. He said there was a scene at the courthouse.”

“Yeah. The gang was there, waiting to take him out. Thankfully, the family hired us beforehand so they never got near him.”

We step out into the cold, night air, and I rub my hands up and down my arms. “Looks like that kid you mentioned has gone,” I murmur, searching the area. No one else is outside on this side of the building. Those who smoke are gathered in the patio area on the other side of the building.

“Yeah,” he responds, slipping off his jacket. “Here, you look cold.”

He throws it over my shoulders, standing so close I can smell his cologne, which has a warm and spicy tone to it. I slip my arms through the jacket, and go for it.

My fingers gently touch the hard lines of his abs, and I step closer. He tenses. “Immy, what are you doing?”

I steel my spine. “I like you, Ben, and I think you like me too.”

Glad I wore the ridiculously high heels, I lean up on my tip-toes, my lips meeting his. He places his hands on my biceps, and for a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me back. That dream is short-lived when he pulls back just as quickly as I moved to kiss him.

“Immy, what the hell are you doing?”

“I… I like you.”

“This can’t happen,” he orders, his eyes narrowing.

“Why?”

“Are you really asking me that?”

“You like me. I know you do,” I argue, but there’s no heat behind those words, just humiliation.

“You are a child, and let’s not forget, I work for your dad,” he explains.

“I’m eighteen in a few weeks,” I whisper.

His expression goes blank, his green eyes growing distant, like he’s removing himself from the situation. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I like you in that way. I don’t. I wanted to make a good impression on your dad since he hired me so young, which is why I’m nice to you.”

“I…” I don’t know what to say.

This is not how I imagined the night would go. I thought for sure he liked me.

“Immy,” he begins.

“It’s Imogen,” I snap.

“Look, I’m sorry. This is just a crush that you’ll get over. I can pretend that this didn’t happen.”

“Don’t do me any favours,” I brokenly argue, slipping his jacket off. I hand it back to him, hitting his chest as I do.

Before he can see the tears fall, I step away. “Where are you going?”

---