CHAPTER 5
"Oh I get my arm back then," he teases as I finally stand to drive back to the hotel.
"It's a nice arm." I offer distractedly.
"Thank you," he frowns, looking at it, wondering why.
"So when we go back, James starts at eight am and we're good?" He asks me.
"I'm going to ask my dad to let you guys go," I tell him sadly, driving in autopilot.
"Why?" He asks, shocked.
"Because it's stupid me having bodyguards when I clearly don't need them. I just need some friends."
"What if you do need them?" He asks huskily, making me panic. I wait until I'm back at the hotel before I ask:
"Is there something you know that I don't?"
He sighs, testing my trust by looking into my eyes. I don't look away.
He licks his lips and bites into the upper one, fighting with himself until he sighs again and opens his mouth.
"There's a reason we're upping our profile," he admits finally.
"Oh my god," I hit the steering wheel lightly then climb out, not even surprised at this news as he follows me, marching like old times.
"Gabi…"
"I knew it! I knew there was something going on! My father does not ask strange men to befriend me for no reason! So what is it?" I demand. "What is it Troy that makes you want to follow me everywhere and never let me out of sight?"
The parking lot is not the best place to discuss this and he tells me as much, gently persuading me back into my room where he stands, formal and regretful all in one, his eyes squinted and assessing.
"We had a threat, okay? Your father begged us not to tell you-"
"I told you not to protect me!" I interrupt only he looks at me to silence me.
"I'm not, am I?" He points out and I concede he's right.
"Ok, and?"
"And it came the night the girls were outside" He confirms. "Your dad wanted one of us to be with you all the time, twenty-four seven even if it was in a 'relaxed' capacity and James said we got on better than you and him."
"Got that right," I remark.
"So what I said earlier still stands. I wanted to spend time with you and get to know you." He insists.
"Even though you're secretly waiting for any lunatic to shoot my ass," I mutter, this news piercing my heart.
"Gabi, no-one will shoot you on my watch." He assures.
"What did I do to deserve this?" I whisper, suddenly realising the seriousness of the situation.
"Nothing."
"Oh my gosh, is it the women's rights group? They hated me for doing Playboy."
"They wouldn't shoot you." He soothes.
"They might."
"Look, we don't know anyone wants to shoot you and you can see why your father wanted this to be kept secret because now you're going to be watching over your shoulder and worrying all day long about something that might never happen…"
"Ok, I'll get a grip, I promise," I tell him, still flitting my gaze around, thinking who else could hate me enough to hurt me.
"Gabi," he steps forward and cups my shoulders, bringing my confused gaze to his. "You're safe, okay?"
I blink with a nod and beg myself not to cry again. Surely he can't cope with me crying again, it's all I seem to do lately.
My shower is long, hot and soothing and I come out in pyjamas and lay on my bed, surprised to see Troy still there.
"You should go now." I tell him.
"I'll stay if you want me to."
"I just want to be alone."
"Gabi…"
"I want to be alone, Troy." I repeat.
He hovers for a minute and then turns toward the door, opening it with a sigh before passing through and closing it behind him, leaving me in total silence.
Now why is my heart screaming at me for doing that? Why does my body feel like it misses his in the same room even though we've never touched?
I think I'm falling in love with my bodyguard and I don't think I can stop myself.
/
Early breakfast with Troy is quiet and awkward. I hate awkward. Not the kind of awkward you get with strangers where you know you're gonna feel weird because they don't know you and your quirks and all the things you do without thinking.
I'm talking about the kind of awkward you get with someone who you know. Someone you know and kind of got on with and who now doesn't want to talk to you- or doesn't know how to talk to you because sometimes you're a moron and it puts them off making conversation with you again.
That's Troy right now. That awful kind of awkward I hate.
"How was gym?" I ask formally, the pain of the silence forcing me into speaking.
"Fine," he eats his oatmeal like it's his favourite food.
I nod, twisting my lips, running my eyes over his freckled nose. "You have freckles on your nose."
He looks up, his sky-eyes pinning mine. "I know."
"It's quite attractive…" I offer, vocalising my thoughts, the sweaty nervousness making me speak out of my usual comfort zone.
"Uh, thank you, I guess?" He squints at me.
"We really wouldn't be friends, would we?" I realise with sudden clanging clarity. He doesn't want to be here any more than I want to be followed 24/7.
"Actually, I think we might." He offers me a slither of hope.
"Why did you decide that?" I wonder.
"We both love the beach. And burgers." He suggests randomly and I actually find myself smiling at him, inanely. He did it! He really did it! He said something random.
"This much is true," I agree and he catches my smile and tentatively hands one back.
"And anyone who can sleep through my snoring is a friend of mine," he adds with a knowing twinkle, making me look down to my food.
"I wouldn't call it snoring…" The soft, almost adorable snorts of Troy's sleep were something I got used to hearing when he slept in the chair in my room.
He purses his lips and gives me a look. "It's snoring."
"Well its cute snoring," I amend like any girl would.
"Just kick me if it ever happens again," he instructs.
"Oh, I will," I smile but I know secretly that I won't.
"Ready Nightingale?" He asks me, using a ridiculous code name.
"When you call me that, I feel about this big-" I hold up my thumb and finger an inch apart. "-please try and find another nickname."
"Songbird?"
He is surely joking because if he is serious, I might actually strangle him. In this room full of people, too. I decide to take the high ground and walk away from breakfast with my head held high. An action I am taking increasingly often.
/
"Gabriella!" The middle aged man pushes his way to the front of the crowd and Troy holds a strong hand to his chest to restrain him from reaching me, his whole body tensing in defence.
"Sir, don't take another step," he tells the man and I press my lips in, recognising him from the concert where he tried to hug me.
"Jim," I smile at him and look up to Troy, indicating he can let the man closer for a photo and autograph, both of which I comply with.
"You look amazing today," Jim tells me and I blush under his compliment. I chose an ethnic print tunic and leggings with my shoe-boots.
"Thank you," I smile and move to the next fan, drawn back as Jim reaches out and fingers my hair, which I tense at, pressing my hair down protectively to remove it from his hand.
"Sir," Troy says again, standing between us.
"Do you know how lucky you are?" Jim asks Troy and I feel the mood go from friendly to bewildered in seconds.
"Sir, please just step back." Troy repeats as he blocks me from the man's reach.
"You get to be with her every day…"
I turn and squint at him, wondering if this is the reason Troy told me they were steeping up security.
"Gabi, go to the car." He twists his head to tell me and I frown.
"James is waiting." He confirms and I nod, looking back on him as I slide into the leather seat.
"Is he a problem?" I ask James as I buckle up.
"Troy or the fan?" James asks back jokingly, pulling out without answering my question.
Great.
/
Lunch with James is nowhere near as much fun as it is with Troy. I counted he had said exactly eight words to me this morning and I cannot believe my father has told him to be friendly as well as Troy, because he is seriously failing his quota.
I still have several hours to go until I'm back on Troy's watch and I wander away from the café James and I chose for lunch- well I chose for lunch- to investigate the intricacies of the old town we are inhabiting.
I look behind me, waiting for James to catch up only he isn't there. I frown, swirling around to look for his black suit and tie and find no-one fitting his description. Hm, that's weird…
"Hey, you have the most beautiful eyes," a street vendor touches my arm to bring me around.
"Thank you." I smile.
"You have a beautiful ass too, I saw you in Playboy," he smiles back.
I nod. "Thank you."
"Are you okay? You look a bit lost…"
"I'm just not sure where to go," I lie, removing my previous thoughts.
"Miss Montez." James' deep voice makes me jump.
"Where were you?" I ask as I turn to him briefly.
"In the restroom."
I squint and frown, but go back to the stranger in our midst. "It was lovely to meet you."
"Take care now!" The man waves us off and I flick annoyed glances back at James as we make our way back to studio for the afternoon session.
"Can you tell me next time you plan on taking a break?" I ask him with my hands jammed on my hips as we wait outside the studio.
"You're safe with me, Miss Montez." He assures.
"I'd still like to know. Just in case."
He nods once and for some reason, I don't trust his agreement. But it doesn't matter because I have to sing now.
And everything else has to wait.
/
"Don't tell me you heard about James' pee break?"
Troy's face is creased with concern as he comes into the room, looking at me applying make-up as I sit on the edge of my bed.
"Are you going out?"
"For a drink," I confirm.
"Who with?"
"Jack." I look up, waiting for his response.
"The guy you were hugging." Troy recognises.
"The same one." I nod.
"Is it a date?" He enquires.
"Do you need to know?" I ask back as quickly.
"We were told not to attend dates." He explains, answering my question with a 'yes'.
I consider my answer. If I say yes, he'll think I'm dating and it might ruin any slim- if zero- chance I have with Troy. If I say no, I have another attended night out. For once the attraction of a security-free night is calling me.
"Yeah. Yeah, it is," I nod assuringly.
"Then I'll wait outside," he supplies.
I look down into my lap, wondering how it will feel not having him there at my side, like usual.
"Okay." I agree, finishing my mascara and liner and jumping up, ready to go. "How do I look?"
His eyes flick down my outfit- A baby doll floaty top and jeans with silver sky-high heels. I look back at him and silently wonder how tall he is. Even in my heels he has a two inch head start.
"You look great." He replies in his monotone voice, something I am becoming used to hearing. I flick my eyes down sadly, somehow hoping for more and disappointed I didn't get it.
"Let's go then, action man," I fix on my smile, exiting my room for the night.