Saved By Your Hot Book Boyfriend

19. The Hot Guy Is Your Bodyguard!?

19

The Hot Guy Is Your Bodyguard!?

You

You stare at the itty-bitty metallic gold bikini in your hands.

“ This is what you want me to try on?”

He has to be joking.

There’s no way he seriously expects you to put that on and then come out to show him. No way. No how.

Maybe this is payback for making him try on too many outfits.

Fine, then.

Two can play at that game.

“Okay,” you say, grinning as you shut the door in his surprised face. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

And…Oh. My. Lord.

This bikini is even smaller on your body than it looked in your hands.

Although—you grin evilly at your reflection. Oh, yeah, you could totally rock this thing…if you weren’t also wearing your leggings and tank top underneath.

“Ta-da!” You say, flinging open the door, much to the surprise of another woman heading to a vacant dressing room stall. Oops . You shoot her an apologetic look and a wave, and she laughs softly as soon as she sees your outfit.

Ziros leans against the outside of the main dressing room door as you walk back out to show him.

He raises his eyebrows.

And are you imagining it, or is there almost a hint of disappointment on his face as he asks, “Are you sure that’s how it’s supposed to be worn, human?”

“ Shush ,” you say, giving him a stern look as you hiss, “We talked about that word.”

He just grins. Giving you a solid glance down and up, he says, “That’s not how the mannequin was wearing it.”

“Oh yeah?” You fold your arms. “And how exactly was the mannequin wearing it?”

Someone in the clothing racks nearby overhears this exchange and snickers.

Ziros takes a step closer, leaning in and lowering his voice as he growls, “ Alone .”

Gulp.

Well, yes. That.

Does that mean he really actually wanted to see you wear this tiny little bikini? You blush at that thought.

“Oh, wow, look at the time!” You say, glancing down at your nonexistent watch. “I’d better get changed or I’ll be late for work.”

It’s 3:15. Your shift starts at 6:00. You still have a bit of time, but Ziros doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Are you running away?” he asks with a laugh as you disappear back into the changing rooms.

Before taking the swimsuit off, you glance at yourself in the mirror. It’s quite the bold bikini. Something about it being metallic just makes it seem all the more daring.

What are they even doing selling something like this outside summer? It’s September, and that means—you look at the tag.

Oh, hey.

It’s on clearance.

Score! This bikini is 80% off! That’s like, such a good deal, you’d be losing money if you didn’t buy it.

(Wait, that’s not how money works? Shhh , logic. This is called fashion math!)

Also, deep down, maybe a part of you secretly kinda wants to wear the hot little bikini. After you, you could totally rock this.

An image flashes through your mind—one of a beautiful woman, strutting confidently poolside as all eyes turn to her. Who is this fashion maven in her tiny metallic gold bikini and too-big sunglasses!?

She must be a celebrity. Or maybe an heiress.

No. It’s you!

That’s when your phone buzzes in your pocket—you really ought to put that back on silent—and you pull it out to discover a message from Corrine.

Corrine: Heyyy girl! Get this! You’ll never believe it, but I scored us an invite to the HOTTEST pool party!

…the heck.

What are the chances?

Corrine: You seriously do not want to miss this. It’s going to be at a PENTHOUSE POOL. And I’m sure there will be loads of hot rich guys there. Maybe we’ll even find you a new date. ??

You stare down at your phone, debating about how to let her down easily. After all, you’ve had enough bad experiences with the tops of skyscrapers for one lifetime. Well, one bad experience, but one was enough. Not that Corrine knows about your little incident at the restaurant.

Then again. Maybe this is your chance to rock this absurd bikini. You can’t help but picture Ziros’ shocked expression as you shuck off your outer layers and he discovers how a bikini is really supposed to be worn.

Maybe it would be worth it just for that moment alone.

In what may be an instant of slight insanity, you make up your mind. After all, it’s gotta be a sign that the bikini is 80% off. It’s like, practically too good to be true.

You: When’s the party?

You’ll just leave it up to fate. If Corrine says it’s tonight, you’ll have to work and you won’t be able to go.

But if it’s on a day off…

Almost instantly, your phone buzzes. She must be super excited.

Corrine: Tonight!!!

Oh.

You’re actually a little disappointed. For a second there, you’d started to get excited about the fantasy of seeing Ziros’ face if you actually wore the bikini as intended. You know. Without your leggings and tank top underneath.

But before you can reply and let your best friend know the bad news, your phone buzzes again. Only this time, it’s not her.

It’s your boss.

Boss Lady: Hey I’m really sorry, but a pipe burst in the cafe today and it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to open again until tomorrow. I can try to move your shift to another day if you want the hours. So sorry!!!!

You stare down at your phone.

What the heck?

What are the chances?

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe or something. After all, you did just decide you’d leave this up to fate.

Guess it’s decided, then.

You glance in the mirror at the metallic gold scraps of fabric and string masquerading as actual clothing.

Honestly, it’s not too terrible. Until you turn around, that is. You’ve probably worn equally revealing swim tops before. But the bottoms are a little… uh .

Well, there seems to be a trend in women’s swimwear lately that involves the backside of said bottoms becoming a lot narrower than they used to make them. And it’s a rather, uh, cheeky look.

And although you’d look hot, you’ve never dressed this daring before. Are you really going to wear such tiny bottoms in public? As in, where other people with eyes and phones with cameras can see?

Yes. Yes you are.

Before you can change your mind, you text your friend and your boss back, then you get back into your clothes and meet Ziros outside the dressing room.

He’s leaning against the wall, looking bored but somehow also hot. Maybe it’s the lean. Why are dudes leaning on walls so hot? For a second, you just stare at him before you can help yourself, and he shoots you a grin.

“Checking me out again?” He asks, making you blush.

Before he can tease you more, you blurt, “How would you like to go to a pool party?”

“A what?” He pushes off from the wall, looking surprisingly interested. And also still hot. It’s probably the chiseled jaw and smoldering, steel blue eyes. So maybe it wasn’t just the wall-lean after all.

Although you’re pretty sure that casual confident lean pose adds about ten hotness points on any given scale.

“A pool party. You know, that thing where there’s a pool, and people, and probably drinks. And hopefully snacks.” You stop mid-thought to wonder if you’re supposed to bring your own beer to a penthouse pool party. Hopefully not. “My friend Corrine invited us. Well—me. Technically. She doesn’t know you exist. But I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Yeah, Corrine would definitely not mind the addition of a hot dude for company.

Ziros just shrugs.

“Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

And just like that, you’re going to a pool party.

On your way to the register, you grab a pair of black board shorts from the men’s rack for Ziros. Happily, they’re also on extreme clearance!

It must be your lucky day or something.

* * *

A few hours later, you stand beside Ziros in front of the gleaming elevator doors inside a tall skyscraper in the most luxurious part of Bridgeborough.

You’re not really going to ride in that elevator, are you?

Your stomach somersaults at the thought—half because you remember what happened last elevator ride. The good parts.

The other half out of crippling, heart-racing fear.

Maybe this was all a terrible idea.

If you weren’t already wearing that daring little metallic bikini underneath your dress, you’d probably turn back right now. But you’ve already come so far. It would be a shame to turn around just because you didn’t think through your newfound fear of elevators.

And…excitement about them? It’s an odd mix of emotions, that’s for sure.

Fortunately, Ziros glares at the elevator doors and declares, “No way in hell. Come with me, human.”

You don’t even get a chance to remind him not to call you ‘human’ in public. He sweeps you off your feet—literally—lifting you into his arms as he heads for the stairwell.

This isn’t like your sixth-floor walk-up back home. No. This is a full-on skyscraper.

He’s not seriously intending to carry you all the way up the stairs to the penthouse, is he?

Oh, yes.

He absolutely is.

But he’s got magic wind powers, and that probably helps. In about thirty seconds flat, you reach the door to the top floor units.

Good thing there wasn’t anyone else on the stairs.

And, fortunately, the unit with the party isn’t hard to find. It’s the prize of the building, the height of opulence and elegance. Ziros sets you down just outside its double-doored entry, folding his arms as he scans the glossy, black marble hall like he’s checking for danger.

A suited doorman greets you mere seconds after you knock. Whether he’s been hired just for tonight’s party or he always works there, it’s hard to say.

He looks from you to Ziros as if judging whether or not you belong, and your heart races. Maybe this was all a bad idea.

Where is Corrine?

She was supposed to meet you here.

You pull out your phone, and…

Corrine: Hey girl, sorry. I got held up but I’ll be there soon. You just go on in and tell them I invited you!

Right on cue, the butler-doorman-guy asks, “May I see your invitation?”

Heat rushes to your face.

Corrine is the one with the actual invitation!

“Uh, I’m so sorry. I was just invited by my friend—”

“Jeeves!” Shouts a man’s voice from somewhere inside, and a rather handsome young blond guy walks drunkenly out wearing board shorts and a designer polo shirt, slinging an arm around the poor butler’s shoulder. “She’s hot, therefore she’s invited.” With a nod at Ziros where he stands glowering behind you, he adds, “Your bodyguard too, of course.”

You nearly choke.

Bodyguard!?

Oh, wow. Did he just assume you’re actually rich enough for a thing like that?

Suddenly you’re oddly glad you wore your daring little gold bikini under this dress after all. Because that’s probably what you’d wear if you were an heiress.

Mr. Rich Boy doesn’t have to know you got it for 80% off at the department store down the street from your tiny studio apartment.

That’s right.

Tonight, you’re not June Wintergreen, the nearly broke wage worker.

No.

Tonight, you’re Miss June the heiress, out on the town for a night of luxury with her bodyguard in tow.

Ziros

Her bodyguard? Who the hell does this rich kid think he is, assuming a thing like that?

Then again.

That is basically what I am. At least until she sets me free. And if he thinks I’m my bodyguard, that means I can punch anyone who gets too close to her.

Right?

Wait.

Why do I even want that?

Stupid connection. Stupid magic. It’s making my brain all screwy.

I don’t give a damn.

Just because I like kissing her doesn’t mean I like her. She’s just a weak little human, after all.

So, fine. I’ll play along. Tonight, I’ll pretend I’m her bodyguard. But this party had better be good.

It had better be worth—

“Hold this,” she says, handing me her purse. And I’m about to object, but then she starts lifting her dress off over her head.