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“I was talking about the drink.” He slid my glass back onto my table.
s, of course, right behind me.
“Do you sleep?” I cast a glance over my shoulder. Pain in the ass or not, he was pretty to look at, with short black hair and a broad face. Gray green eyes with smile lines around them, though he couldn’t have been over twenty. Maybe not shredded, but strong. His body had presence. “I only ask because you’ve been here constantly. For three days. Don’t you ever need to eat? How about pee?”
His lips twitched and I thought I’d won a smile, but he cut it off before it could bloom. I made sure to put a little swing in my step when I turned around to go upstairs.
He sighed and followed.
At the top, I spun around and caught him off guard. He grabbed at the curved banister to keep his balance. “Tell me something,” I said. “Anything. I’ll even settle for your name.”
Stoic stance. No facial expression.
“Is my father paying you a crap ton of money not to talk or what?”
Now he focused on something behind me instead of me and leaned forward like he was ready to take another step.
I was all hands on hips, blocking his way. “Talk to me. About anything. The NFL? The NBA? Heck, the WWE?”
From the way his mouth shaped itself, I thought he could be biting the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing.
“Have you been lobotomized?” I spoke slowly, with perfect enunciation, and mimicked sawing my own head open.
He gave his head a slight shake and stared at the floor. This time he couldn’t stop the smile.
Gotcha.
“Look at that,” I said. “Signs of intelligent life.”
Maybe his brain muscle was as well developed as the rest of them.
“Are you going to your room,” he asked, “or back downstairs?”
“He has a voice!” A deep one. “Wherever you’ll follow. That’s where.”
“I’m your bodyguard,” he said in a monotone. “I have to follow you.”
“To the ends of the earth.”
“Your room or back downstairs?” he repeated.
In one quick movement, I reached up and pulled off his earpiece. It slapped down against his chest. “Turn it off.”
He clicked a button, and the green indicator light switched to red.
“I’m staying right here. You’re going to talk to me,” I said.
The downstairs door slammed shut. We both jumped, and his whole body tensed.
“Hallie?” Dad barked out the question.
“I’m here.”
“Come down.” Most everything Paul Girard said was a demand.
I didn’t budge. “I just finished class, and I’m still in my robe.”
“There’s a guard with you?”
