I turn around. “Right. Goodnight.” I walk to the bed, grab two pillows, and then walk to the couch and hand them to him. “Here you go.” He’s sitting on the side of his bed with his head down. He looks up, and I see the little flecks of gold in his blue eyes.
“Thank you.” He holds out his hand, and I hand them to him and turn to walk away from him. I wanted to stand between his open legs and put my hands on his cheeks, then bend down and softly touch his lips. Instead, I turn and walk away. Pulling the bedding back, I slide between the cold sheets. I turn on my side and watch him get ready for bed. He doesn’t take off his pants. He just goes under the covers, then leans over and turns off the lights. It’s now all dark, and I wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I close my eyes and then open them again, my eyes watching the figure right in front of me until my eyes don’t open anymore.
The flushing toilet wakes me up, and my eyes slowly open. I’m in the same position I was when I fell asleep. Looking over at the bedside table, I see it’s just after ten twenty-seven. I look over at the couch and see the covers thrown over. I hear water running from the bathroom and then the sound of the door unlocking. I hear him walking down the little hallway to the bedroom.
“Morning,” he says when I look up at him. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“No,” I say softly. He walks out and makes the bed back to a couch, and then places the pillows back on it. “Did you sleep well?”
“As well as one can with a metal bar in the middle of his back,” he answers, looking at me and laughing. “It was fine.”
“We should have just gotten you a room.” I toss the covers aside and then make my way to the bathroom. When I come back out, I hear him hang up the phone.
“I ordered you breakfast,” he says, and I see he put his shirt back on. “I didn’t know what you would want, so I got both pancakes and waffles.”
Nodding at him, I open the shades and look outside. “Nice view,” he says from beside me. I look out and see the John Hancock building to the side.
I turn and walk to the couch. Sitting, I grab the remote. “What episode were we watching?” I look at him, turning the television on.
“Nine, I think, maybe ten,” he answers and then turns and looks at me. “What did you have planned for today?”
“Nothing,” I say happily. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Good,” he says, turning. “I’m taking you out.”
I look over at him confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we are going to eat breakfast and then I want you to get dressed. We are going to go out and then we are going to go around the city,” he tells me, coming to sit down next to me on the couch. He grabs his phone and starts typing on it while I sit here and try to dissect what he just told me. I don’t even pay attention to the episode I’m watching especially after the knock on the door, and the man comes in. This time, he leaves the cart since there is no room on the little table for all the plates he brought. I get up, going to the table, and pour a cup of coffee.
“I don’t know if I can go out there.” I look at him while he fixes his plate, and he glances up at me with worry. “I mean, what if people recognize me?” No matter how many times I try to be normal, the press gets wind of it or the fans come over, and I end up stuck wherever I am, trying to get out of it. And I usually need a police escort.
“I’m there,” he says before grabbing a forkful of egg. He looks up at me. “If it gets to be too much, I will make sure we get out of there without anyone knowing.”
“You don’t know,” I whisper, “how it can be.”
“Trust me.” He says the two words that mean more than he knows. “Trust me to protect you.”
I don’t say anything to him because I can’t talk over the lump in my throat. I want to be the normal girl who walks around without a care in the world, the girl who can walk in and order coffee, and it’s not a big ordeal. “The last time I trusted someone, he tipped off the paparazzi where I was going to be and made sure he got paid handsomely for his little scoop.”
The fork he is holding falls from his hand with a clatter. “I would never do that to you.” He grabs a glass of water that is on the tray and takes a drink. “Ever.”
I look at his struggle. He has to keep me safe, that is his job, and I know deep down he would do anything to make sure I’m safe. “Okay,” I whisper, putting down my cup of coffee and grabbing a plate to pile with a waffle and pancake. “Let’s go explore the city.” He smiles at me and nods his head. I try to rush through breakfast, excited about where we are going and what we are doing. “How should I dress?”
“Casual,” he answers. “Jeans, shirt, runners. We are going to be walking a bit, so you need comfy shoes.”
I nod and look over at the luggage cart that still has all my suitcases on them. “Can you grab the navy one?” I ask him. He pushes away from the table, grabs the navy one, and puts it on the luggage rack in my room. I follow him there and unzip the luggage and find that it’s my casual one. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” I ask him before he walks out.
“You can use it first,” he says and closes the double doors. I toss things around in the luggage until I find a casual pair of pants. Undressing from my joggers, I put on my dark green cargo pants that are a soft cotton. The cuff at the legs is tight with elastic. Picking up a short-sleeved white shirt, I slip it on, then knock on my door to tell him I’m coming in the room. “You can come out.” I open the door right at the time he is putting on his own white shirt. When his black jeans fall low on his hips, the band of his Calvins visible, and I stand here wondering if they are boxers or briefs. He smooths down the long-sleeved shirt, leaving one button open at the top. He looks over at me and shakes his head, smiling.
“What?” I ask, looking down at my casual outfit.
“You just …” He sits, grabbing his white sneakers.
“I just what?” I ask, aggravated, after I made sure that I was dressed as casual as I could.
“You just look good in everything,” he mumbles, and I just stand here. It’s the first time he’s given me this. That he even looks at me or sees me.
“Um.” I don’t know what to say or how to address this, so I do what any normal girl would do. I avoid it and walk to my bag with my workout stuff. Grabbing my white Nikes, I slip them on. “I just need to get my jacket, and then I’ll be ready.” Going to the bedroom, I grab the black leather jacket from the bed and slip it on. “Is this okay?”
He looks away from his phone that he took out while I was putting on my shoes. “Yup, it’s as casual as you can get.”
“I don’t even have makeup on,” I point out to him as I grab my purse, but he shakes his head. “No purse.”
“But I have like everything in this,” I tell him, picking up my purse and showing it to him. “All my IDs.”
“Just bring your ID,” he says, “and leave the rest here.”
“B-but,” I stutter, “what if I see something I want to buy?” Who is to say I won’t find a pair of shoes that I can’t live without or that I might see a nice scarf.