Selena

I'm shredding the white gel off my nails, staring at Marc's best friend's house as Adam parks at the front.

"Let's go, princess." He sighs, stepping out of the car.

Can I just stay in here? Will anyone even notice I'm not there?

Obviously. It's your stupid engagement party. Besides, you already canceled on Imaan.

My head is woozy with wine, but dear anxiety is quickly sobering me up. We approach the mahogany door, which I dreadfully knock three times.

We're here!

Should I say that?

We finally made it! Traffic was horrible.

Insert fake laugh.

The door opens and my breath hitches in preparation.

"Oh my Goodness, look who's finally here!" Marc's aunt, who has an endless number of wrinkles on her tanned face, throws her arms around me like a long lost relative.

Don't cringe. Just tolerate it. You have to.

"We made it..." I force out a pained chuckle.

"Wow, and who is this?" She gives Adam a dazed and sparkling once-over, in awe of his overpowering testosterone.

"Oh, that's just Adam," I wave her off. As if hang out with 6'5 tattooed brooding men like all the time. "He's kind of uh...my bodyguard?"

Body. Guard. Guarding. Bodies. My. Body.

Versions of what that can mean attack my mind. Inappropriate. Heart-throbbing. Store-for-later—

"Huh? Really? That's odd. Anyway!" She snatches my wrist and drags me in. "Come on, you're late. Everyone's waiting for you!"

"Well, Marc didn't even tell me about..." Chatters attack my left ear, whipping my focus towards the open kitchen area with all the party guests.

Oh no.

"Come on." Marc's aunt whispers, taking me in the opposite direction, towards the hallway with bedrooms. Adam's towering form doesn't miss a single beat, following closely behind us.

He also doesn't seem too fond of the crowd, even though he doesn't know them yet.

Frat dudes with trust funds and sports cars. Like dude, I bet you my toe that you completely suck in bed. The girls are gorgeous, of course. They're like the popular, mean girls of high school. Except, we've entered an 'adult' phase in our lives, where bullying others isn't 'cool' anymore.

Now it's fake smiles and meaningless small talk. I'm not friends with anyone here and I doubt anyone is even interested to really know me.

"Close your eyes..." Marc's aunt pauses in front of a white door, smiling with scary excitement.

"Do I have to?"

"Close them!"

I stifle a groan and shut my lids, counting every long second.

She shuffles in, rustling something that sounds like a thick plastic sheet. A zipper swipes wide. This could only be one thing and one thing only. Fuuuck me. I hope she didn't buy me a dre—

"You can open—"

I don't want to.

The instant they find the nightmare she's holding for me, my soul exits my body. An invisible fist punches me in the gut.

"What...is that?"

"I bought you an engagement dress, isn't it lovely?" She gushes over the white, lace gown that my great, great, great-grandmother must've worn before fashion was a thing. "It's by an expensive designer, I bought it for you."

So just because it's expensive, it means...what? The dots of logic don't connect to each other.

"Come, let's get you changed into it!"

"I-it's okay. I'd rather change alone..."

"Okay, as you wish. I mean, my breasts are bigger than yours, so if anyone should be shy it's me. I'll see you outside, can't wait to see you in the dress! Oh, I'm so excited!" She shuts the door behind her, taking her high-pitched yelling along and leaving Adam and me alone.

We look at each other, none of us ready to end the silence yet. I lower my attention at the dress she left on the bed, creepily calling for me.

I'd really rather jump in a bonfire and roast myself than wear the scratchiest, heaviest dress that's clearly been designed by the devil himself.

"Oh, no," I say with no enthusiasm whatsoever. "I tried to fit into this breathtaking dress, but unfortunately it didn't fit me. So sad."

"Yeah," Adam mimics. "Tragic."

We leave the dress untouched and shut the bedroom door, stepping into the dim hallway.

Voices overlap each other on the other side of the wall. Men. Women. So loud. My palms itch to cover my ears, but that'd look weird. Instead, I clench my hands into fists, collecting courage.

"Selena? Heeey, it's Selena!" Marc's male colleagues and cousins throw their drinks up in the air and cheer.

Great.

"Hi, everyone." I timidly tread through them, sweat building around my temples.

"Congratulations on your engagement!"

"Beautiful party!"

"You must be so excited to marry your first love. I wish you two the best!"

"T-thank you." I chuckle, shakily grabbing a plastic red cup from the kitchen countertop. There's dozens of colorful bottles with different kinds of alcohol. I just need a shot of tequila...

"Hey there, Selena. Wow, you look gorgeous. I like your dress." Marc's married cousin in his forties slides beside me. His cologne always gives me a headache. I think he showers in it.

"Thanks Alan..."

"So what have you been up to? You never come to our parties with Marc."

"I'm sure he's fine. I'm so boring. I'd much rather eat noodles in my sweatpants and watch Netflix."

"Why would you do that to yourself? You're way too young and cute to lock y-yo-your—" Out of nowhere, his confident voice breaks into a high-pitch yelp, like a puppy that just got stepped on.

"Alan?"

He's not even looking at me anymore. There's something far more urgent over my shoulder. He's completely pale and I swear his bottom lip trembles. "S-sorry, I just remembered I need make an urgent phone call. Sorry, Selena!"

"What's up with him?" I turn to Adam and flinch, clutching my chest. He's standing there like a glaring statue. "Jesus! What's with that face? Are you trying to give people a heart attack?"

He grunts, rolling his dark, serious gaze above my head. He looks like a buff caveman inside a pink dollhouse, plotting to murder everyone.

But something about the way he doesn't care about looking mean is just so satisfying. The way his stubbled jawline is tight with aggression. The bulge of his Adam's apple and the width of his chest, bottled with tempting, primal violence.

I press my red cup against my bottom lip, as if that can hide my shameless gaze from traveling down his body, all the way down to his—

Adam clears his throat. Hard.

I explode into a blush up to my scalp, steaming like a kettle. Meanwhile, he deadpans at me.

"Selena, come! Oh my God. Why aren't you wearing the dress I got you?!" Marc's aunt digs her nails into my wrist once again. She steals me through the open doors to the backyard. "Come! It's time to take pictures cutting the cake!"

"What?"

I'm halted next to the pool filled with colorful inflatable animals. There's a photography backdrop next to it, made out of pink balloons. Marc's standing in front of it, holding a shiny knife over a multi-tiered engagement cake.

Marc's aunt grasps my shoulders, pushing me towards him. I grimace. My tolerance has reached its limits. All I can imagine are the millions of invisible pores sweating out of her palms and sinking into my skin.

Flashlights go off. More and more people yell. Dozens of phones are pointed at us.

"Smile!"

"You call that a smile, give us a real smile!"

"Don't be so stiff, Selena!"

"How much longer until we're done?" I ask Marc under my breath, my cheeks becoming sore.

"Kiss!"

My eyes widen.

"Yes, kiss!" Marc's aunt goes crazy. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"No..." I laugh it off. None of them know we've never even held hands before! He's a complete stranger. I mean, sure, we grew up together. But Marc and I barely even talked. He was closer to my dad than with me.

"KISS HER!"

Marc sighs. "Let's just give them what they want. Otherwise, they won't stop."

"What! I-I'm not having my first kiss with you like this! That's too awkward."

"It's for a picture, Selena. You don't have to think of it as anything real. It's not." Marc sighs.

"It's a big deal to me." I back away slowly, feeling small and embarrassed by how nonchalant he is.

"You're too sensitive. Come on, stop being so emotional. We're getting married, after all. You have to get used to these kind of things."

You have to get used to these kind of things.

As if I haven't heard that a billion times. All my life, that's what my family has told me. As if I can snap my fingers and become someone different.

"Selena!" Marc snaps, jolting me out of my thoughts.

Adam's palm brushes along my stomach and I lose my breath, forgetting everything around me. He doesn't look at me. He's in front of me, shielding me from everyone with an emotionless face. I feel his strong fingers spread over my belly, creating millions of fluttering butterflies.

I'm dumbstruck and tongue-tied. I don't even realize that he's smoothly taking me away from Marc. Away from this suffocating crowd.

~

"Have your previous clients had a lot of meltdowns?" I ask five minutes later, as he drives me to—I can only assume—my apartment.

He presses his lips. "Mm, no. Not really."

"Then how'd you handle mine so calmly?"

"I'm always calm."

I let out a dry laugh. "Sure. Only a calm person would pounce on a golf cart and attack an innocent woman."

"When did I attack you?"

"You pressed your body all over me."

"Oh, I'm sorry." He gives me a sarcastic side-eye. "Next time when you're about to crash into a tree and die, I'll be sure to get out of the way."

"Please. I'll choose death over you any day."

He does that distracting, sexy thing again, where he flattens his hand on the steering wheel, spinning it for a turn. "So are your parents forcing you to marry that idiot?"

"Huh?"

"Marc."

"Are my parents forcing me to marry that idiot Marc? You think I'd let anyone dictate my love life?"

"Then why was he being such a dick to you?"

I'm whiplashed by his boldness. "He's not a dick, that's just his personality."

"If you really believe that, then you have really low standards." He parks and turns off the engine.

Wait. We're here already? Oh, crap! I'm so burnt out from today's emotional roller coaster, that I completely lost track of time bantering, instead of thinking about how to get rid of Adam.

Don't be so sensitive, Selena.

He's a professional. You're just a job to him.

"What if I pay you to leave me alone?" I step out of the car too and come face-to-face with him, lifting my hands on my hips. "How much would you accept?"

"Five billion dollars."

"What? I'm serious!"

"Five billion dollars."

"What if I sell you my kidneys?"

"What?" He chuckles under his breath, his forehead wrinkling. "No, thanks. I don't want your weak ass kidneys."

"Weak ass kidneys? For your information, I have a very healthy body and a super sharp brain."

"Oookay."

I'm slack-jawed. I'm actually slack-jacked. "I have a 4.0 GPA."

"Wow." He lifts a single, sarcastic eyebrow. "What do you want me to say. Good girl?"

System processing.

Error.

Brain is non-responsive. Please reboot.

"Whaaat?"

"Well, you're listing your accomplishments. What else would you brag for? You want a pat on the head?"

"You know what? I'm beyond brain fried to deal with you. First, my parents got me a bodyguard and didn't even care to ask how that'd make me feel. I wasn't invited to my own engagement party, which I ditched anyway, because I'm incapable of acting normal. Now you won't take a bribe and you don't want my kidneys. So you know what? Fuck it. Be my guest. Let's have a sleepover. And if you end up murdering me, I don't care. You'd be doing me a favor."

I'll just shave his eyebrows when he's asleep.

We silently approach the two-story residential building. It's a modest, small community with cheap rent, since it's all I can afford right now.

But it's everything to me. My little, one-bedroom apartment on the second floor, where I can cocoon myself from this overwhelming world.

Everything is under control. Adam will see how tiny my place is and admit what a horrible idea this whole thing was. I guarantee that's what will happen. I can already feel his disappointment.

As we reach the final steps of the staircase, my eyes tiredly glance at my door and all the air leaves my lungs.

The door.

It's open.

~A/N~
WHY IS IT OPEN?! WHAT'S IN THERE? WHO'S IN THERE?

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