Chapter Five — James.

For the first time in English class, I can't seem to concentrate.

I fiddle with my textbook, finding it hard to sit so still and stay quiet at once. All I want to do is surf through the pages of my textbook, testing myself with complex oral forms and word stress but as usual Mr. Shucks doesn't tolerate that. He'll single me out to go to the whiteboard and ask me questions about what he'd been saying for the past hour and of course, I'll fail because I'm not paying attention. Ugh, I can't wait to whizz out of high school, though college would be tougher, still, it's good to have a change of environment and schedule. I'd be more at peace with myself than at home.

Pushing all thoughts of education to the back of my mind, I look up at the silvery clock on the wall for the forty-ninth time in five minutes. It's almost lunch and I'm not excited about the food. I want to see him again. I want to sit next to him and listen to his not-so-fluent but solid English. To hear his plans and secrets. He's unlike anyone I've ever met before.

I can't help the smile that tugs on my lip when I recall the nickname he has for me. I think it means ‘master’ in Russian, or something delicate. Could be a phrase he loved so much. The nickname's perfect, only I shall be called by it.

He looked sad when he said he doesn't have any friends or buddies to hang out with and call him cute names. Maybe, just as he said he'd flown over from his country to protect me so he was new to America. He didn't show any sadness at this, I think he likes being alone. I'm such a fool for not asking if he had any family back where he came from. My bad.

What if he's out there sitting in a restaurant with no one to discuss with him? He'd looked indifferent when I told him I'd be under the birch tree during lunch. The thought of him not showing up makes my chest feels empty, void, and cold. He may not even like this job.

I've had bodyguards all through my life and it became annoying being watched over at every twist and turn, sure it made my Mom relax knowing I was in safe hands but I still found a way to go against the rules put in place to ensure my safety.

My parents are top security and protection officers working in a defense division for one of the most successful companies in the world. I've never been to their workplace and this is all I know of their jobs. The millions they make each month are enough to pique jealousy in the minds of rivals, so I understand the reason why I need to be protected at all times. Any of us could be a target, even Simon. That's why I always insisted he follows me home after school first so I'll have Ryder drop him off. No one told me the reason for keeping me under surveillance but I think there's something behind it.

Although I hate my guards, I knew they were necessary. Mom and Dad think that because I give them too many slips, I don't care about my safety or I'm simply irresponsible which of course isn't true. Most times I ran away from them because I liked walking home alone. The thought of sneaking past Michael's guard is so ridiculous because here I sit,  dreaming and waiting impatiently for the class to end so I can hop out, straight under the tree and right next to him. I like the color of his eyes. Blue, hard, and full of mystique. They soften at me and I can see a glint of fondness in them. He looks at me as though I'm the answer to his prayers.

When the bell finally clangs, I almost trip while trying to get out of the classroom quickly. In the hallway, I spot Simon leaning on my locker, waiting for me. Guess this is one of the few occasions he's available to have lunch with me. He spends most of his lunchtime in the library trying to get his head around Calculus or Algebra so he wouldn't have to study back home.

“Hey Simon,” I say calmly, popping in my combination and slipping my Maths notebook in. He remains mute, looking around at the students filing out of the classrooms. Up close Simon looks tall in trouser pants and since we are in uniforms, his dress looks rushed. He's never liked being clean-cut whereas I've always been one for fashion. My shorts were my lifeline, cause I dislike trousers and pants to a large extent. I feel uncomfortable wearing them. So that's why I've got shorts mostly in my wardrobe.

“New chap bring you to school today?”

“Yup,”

We both got our driver's licenses last year but Mom still insists I get driven around.

“You've still got Calculus homework, right? Mr. Davis won't be pissed?” Simon puts things off a lot until the last second but still manages to make the cut. That's how brilliant he is.

He groans.

“I've still got my eyes on you,” he puts two fingers in his eyes and points them to mine and back to his. 

“Sure, observe me all you want,” I grin deviously, turning to walk out into the lawn and under the birch tree where Michael is.

“James I'm warning you, he's not like the boys here at school who you can mess around with.”

I roll my eyes. People heard him alright.

“See you later Simon,”

I know he's only watching out for me but I'm not getting any younger. He won't be around to watch my every step soon. I can take care of myself. That's why I'm nineteen, an adult who's capable of making his own choices.

I take out my phone and double-tap the screen. There's just one message from Mom saying she loves me. It's routine for her to do this every day. I type in ‘you too Mom,’ and press send.

I bash my head against a wall and jerk back, looking up to deep blue eyes, his hands on my shoulder, keeping me from falling. My smile breaks into a blush. He came.

“Hey,” I step even closer to him, our noses barely touching. His eyes light up at this as he looks down at my lips, then his gaze flickers to my phone. “You weren't watching where you were going. Who are you texting?”

He looks around us, his eyes narrowing. “Is it a girl? Do you have a girlfriend?”

His voice is edgy and I can tell he's fighting against the urge to yell at me. I'd got him pissed by smiling so much while texting Mom and it makes him jealous thinking I'm into some girl. I like it. This means he likes me. His questions prove this.

“I only smile while texting my Mom,” his eyes dart back to my face, and relief washes over his features. “She sends me motherly texts each day,”

He nods, reaching out to grab my textbooks and mobile phone. “Your lunch break is almost over, you've got to eat,” he begins to move to the tree I'd told him to meet me earlier and I slip my arms around his hard waist, causing him to stiffen.

“I don't have any girlfriend and I don't do girls. How bout you? Got any wife or partner back where you came from?”

He shook his head.

“I don't believe you,” I tighten my hold around his waist. He stiffens the more. “You have a family perhaps,”

“No. There's no one,”

I pull him down with me to sit down on a bench beneath the tree. He takes my phone and double-taps the screen, scrolling through my messages perhaps. I ruminate on what he just told me about not having any family. He didn't look hesitant while he said that, but I'll be making a mistake if I believe him. No one this handsome stayed single.

“I haven't got your number yet. What happens if you don't show up and I need you?”

He looks up at me. “I swear I'll never be far from you,”

“What if I want to discuss something privately with you, just the two of us,” I feel myself draw closer beside him. He types his number in and hands the phone over. “Here, you can call me and we'll talk anytime. Now I need you to eat,”

I pick on my sandwich, my appetite is gone the minute we sit under the tree. Now, all I want is to hear stories about his life back in Boston. “Care for some?” I offer.

He shakes his head. “Please eat, James,”

“I'm not hungry,”

“Starving yourself leaves me worried. If you want us to be friends then you must promise to always eat your lunch and stay healthy at all times.”

My face heats up at his sweetness. How did he know I don't eat? No one's ever told me this before. “Alright, but you must join me,” I push the sandwich closer to him. “Please, Mikey,”

His eyes light up and I can tell he's trying hard not to smile. “Anything you want,”

He takes the sandwich as I take out an apple, biting into it. “So, tracking me is not part of your job right?”

“It is but only if you want me to,”

He chews quietly, placing the half-bitten sandwich on the plate. I keep the apple too. “I never said you can't,”

“Sure?” he sounds excited.

“Yes,” I reach out to touch his tattoed arm before I can think better of it. He freezes at my touch, wincing as though I've injured him.

“Do I hurt you?” I trace my fingers slowly on the tattoos. “You don't seem to like this,”

“You can't hurt me and even if you do, I'm used to pain,” he says this so easily like it's no big deal. This makes me realize he's had a dark past yet something makes me want to slide my fingers into his shirt, tear the buttons off and kiss his broad chest. I want to assure him the world's not as bad as he thinks it is.

“I'd never hurt you,” I say, and meant it.

“Oh no James, you began to hurt me the minute I met you,”

We both hold each other's gaze and I'm conscious of the warm breeze tickling my face and the blazing sun between us. In his sad eyes, I see a hope that matches the one coming alive deep within me. First, it's like a flap, then a flutter, and that feeling makes its way onto the surface.

“The entire school is watching us. I don't belong here, kravviy,” he whispers. My chest lurches at his words.

I feel the eyes on us and don't regret a thing. They can all go to hell for all I care and better get used to seeing Michael around here more often.

“The bell's gone, James. Get to class now. I'll wait till dismissal,”