Chapter 11: What Will People Say?

DANICA

I collapsed onto my bed, still fully clothed. All I wanted was to erase the day’s events from my mind. I hadn’t even noticed Ms. Moore as I made my way to my room.

The house was dark and the man had driven away as soon as he saw me safely inside. A chill sensation around my neck drew my attention to the necklace I was still wearing. I removed it and examined it more closely.

It was a simple, dime-sized pendant with a star and moon etched into it. Somehow, it was comforting. I tossed it onto my bedside table.

Closing my eyes, I once again surrendered to my dreams. There wasn’t a single night when my dreams didn’t revolve around that man.

~I found myself walking to the park. I never thought I’d willingly put myself in a situation where I’d be alone with a criminal. But his benefits made him surprisingly likable.~

~I sat on the same park bench where he’d been the day before. I held my bag tightly in my lap and waited. The park was deserted. If he decided to harm me, I doubted I could do much to stop him.~

~My headache made me feel even weaker. I’d be easy prey.~

~“And here I thought you were smarter than this,” a familiar male voice said. Hugo. He sat down next to me. “You don’t even know me. All the signs point to me being a monster, yet here you are. Why?” he asked, sounding amused.~

~“Because it hurts,” I confessed.~

~“I thought you said you were used to pain by now.”~

~There were some things I could never get used to, this was one of them. “I lied.”~

~“Why?”~

~“So you wouldn’t see what a mess I am.” My throat ached from the tears I was holding back, but I stayed strong.~

~Silence fell between us. Then he extended his empty hand toward me. “We’re all messes,” he said. I looked into his eyes. He was waiting for me to take his hand. “Some of us just hurt more than others.”~

~I started to reach for his hand, but then pulled back. “Why are you here?” I asked.~

~“Because I have nothing better to do.”~

~I laughed softly to myself. “So, coming here was your last resort?”~

~“Tonight, this was the most interesting thing happening. I’m not exactly Mr. Popular these days.”~

~“And when you find something better, you won’t come here?” I asked.~

~He looked completely unfazed. “We’re not friends, Danica. I don’t plan on keeping in touch or visiting you during the holidays. Tonight, you’re just filling a void for me.” He extended his hand again. “So take it while I’m here, or leave and forget.”~

~I quickly took his hand and looked straight ahead, feeling the pain slowly recede.~

~I smiled to myself. “What’s your favorite color?” I asked.~

~“We’re not going to be friends, Danica,” he replied, sounding annoyed.~

~I turned to look at him and found him already watching me. “Of course not, I’m just using you for my headaches,” I said, noticing a smile tugging at his lips. “But strangers can still talk.”~

~He lifted our intertwined hands. “Do strangers usually hold hands?” he asked.~

~I smirked. “Well then. If we’re not friends, lovers, enemies, or even strangers, then we must be somewhere in between. It’s a complicated concept.”~

~He looked amused. “I don’t like to complicate my life.”~

~“You overthink too much for someone who claims to be bad.”~

~He leaned in closer, perhaps trying to intimidate me, but it didn’t work. “And you’re too trusting for someone who claims to avoid trouble.”~

~I smiled playfully. “Bad people don’t know they’re bad.”~

~He tilted his head. “So what am I then?” he asked.~

~“A complicated concept.”~

~He hummed in response. “It seems we both are.”~

The next morning, my alarm jolted me awake at seven. I didn’t really have a choice about going to work—I’d already taken the previous day off.

I hesitantly reached for the key to unlock my chained hand, but something else grabbed my attention. The same symbols that had appeared on my hands yesterday were still there.

I hadn’t given it much thought when I went to bed last night, my guardian had assured me they would disappear. But why were they still there?

I descended the stairs, dressed and ready to face the day. Ms. Moore was perched on the porch outside. I paused next to her, and she turned to me with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Danica,” she greeted.

“Good morning, Ms. Moore,” I responded, my eyes drifting to the man standing next to his car, his gaze fixed in my direction.

He leaned against his vehicle, basking in the sunlight, seemingly without a care in the world. I approached him, stopping directly in front of him. When I remained silent, he initiated the conversation.

“Got something on your mind?” he inquired.

I held out my hands, displaying the persistent star marks. “Why haven’t these disappeared?” I questioned, and his surprise mirrored my own.

“I… I’m not sure… They usually vanish in daylight,” he admitted, his eyes studying my hands. His fingers reached out, tracing the symbols on my skin. A strange sensation coursed through me, and I quickly withdrew my hands. His gaze snapped up to meet mine.

“Are these marks anywhere else on your body?” he asked.

“No, just my hands,” I replied, and he raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

“Are you certain?” he pressed, his gaze scrutinizing.

“Do I need to strip down for you?” I retorted, causing his face to blanch. “I’m sure, but I want them gone,” I insisted, awaiting his response.

“I’m not sure what to do here. Why don’t you like them? If anyone asks, just say it’s a tattoo,” he suggested.

“You’re supposed to be my guardian angel, you should know what to do!” I snapped, frustrated by his lack of answers. He was the one who had promised to be by my side, to protect me. I assumed that included knowing how to handle situations like this.

“Actually, my job is to protect you, not to know everything about your powers,” he retorted, yet he seemed to know everything else about me.

I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to live with these marks. “I don’t need a bodyguard,” I declared, turning on my heel.

“I can drive you, you know?” He called after me, but when I didn’t respond, he fell into step beside me.

We walked in silence until we reached the park, where I spotted the man with the dark features sitting on a bench. His intense gaze was fixed on me, but I averted my eyes and continued walking.

“Is he there?” the man beside me asked.

I chose not to respond.

“What will my coworkers think if they see you with me?” I asked.

“Let them wonder. I’ll just be around, you won’t always see me,” he explained.

“That doesn’t answer my question. What should I tell them when they ask about the strange man following me around? I can’t exactly say you’re my guardian angel. And I can’t even say your name.”

“The name issue is your fault. You’re not even trying to remember because you’d rather live in denial,” he retorted, his tone laced with bitterness.

“No, I’d rather live peacefully,” I countered.

“Is that it?” He challenged, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you afraid of disrupting your routine?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone when I fail…,” I began, but he cut me off.

“When? Why are you so certain you’ll fail? You’re not the only one tasked with protecting our world from humans,” he argued, trying to make me understand.

But I didn’t want to hear it.

We arrived at my workplace, and I turned to face him. “Where will you be?” I asked.

“Around. Even when I’m not here, I’ll know if you need protection,” he assured me.

“I don’t need you to be around, but I guess I don’t have a choice. So…okay. But what do I tell people when they see us together?”

“Do you care what they think?” He was about to walk away, but I stopped him.

“Fine…they can think you’re my boyfriend,” I declared, and he shot me a look, his playful demeanor replaced with anger.

“Why would they think that?” he demanded defensively.

I was taken aback by his sudden mood swing. It wasn’t as if I had suggested something outrageous.

“Because that’s what people assume when they see a man and a woman together all the time.”

His cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “Well, anyone who could even entertain such a thought is completely off their rocker,” he declared, his voice straining with the intensity of his words.

His jaw tightened, as if he was trying to hold back a shout. “It’s just so…utterly incorrect…revolting and improper to even consider,” he managed to spit out.