My Marine Bodyguard

“Mr. Ernest, put the newspaper away!”The man pushing his late seventies looked at me over the top of his newspaper and dramatically licked his finger before turning the page. In his defense, hiring a fitness trainer was his wife’s idea.For three months, he sat at the tricycle in the corner of the gym, reading his newspaper while I tried to encourage him to work out—obviously, with no luck.The florescent lighting reflected off his balding head while his only movement, besides turning the paper, was to push up his tiny framed glasses on his crooked nose.I leaned against the floor to ceiling mirror surrounding us and took a drink of my bottled water. At least his reluctant attitude gave me extra time to work out for myself.“Dude is relentless,” Corey said.Corey, another trainer leaned beside me, offering me one of his mini pretzels. I snagged one, laughing to myself at his choice in snacks. With three y

The screwdriver incident followed me around like a bad day. To know Marcus would do something so petty pissed me off and embarrassed me. Madden was right … what did I see in him? The rest of the day flew by and I felt myself relax when softball practice neared. Madden plopped down in the passenger seat of my car. “Any more surprises in store for today?” “Just softball and my shift at the restaurant.” Madden sighed. “Damn girl, do you ever sleep?” I smiled. I liked to keep busy for many reasons. Paying the bills being the biggest one. My apartment was small and crappy but a lot when I had other expenses. I couldn’t ask my dad for pride reasons, so I did what any college-aged girl needed to. The softball field sat in the back corner of the campus surrounded by woods and bleachers. It was my time to relax, other than the gym and I loved every minute of it. My practice partner, Sarah, waited for me by the fence, noticing Ma

Rays of morning light streaked through the crack in my bedroom blinds, waking me. I groaned, rubbing my eyes with my fists. It felt like someone hit me in the head with a hammer, or ran over me with a truck. I kicked my leg and swung my arms to get out of my blankets because a thick layer of sweat covered my skin. What time is it? What’s the day? I rolled my leg over, noticing a glass of water and aspirin sitting on my nightstand. I tried to remember what happened the night before, only gathering bits and pieces. Oh yeah, the barn party. I grabbed my leg, slipped the sleeve over my thigh and tossed the aspirin into the back of my throat. A headache danced around my vision, promising me a fun-filled day of torture—crap. It’s Friday. My clock on my nightstand read seven-fifty-five. I bounded up in a hurry, grabbing clothes and tossing them until I looked somewhat presentable. My door crashed against the opposite wall as I barreled through the barrier. Madden was up before I made

I rolled over in my bed, and buried my head into my pillow. The memories from the night before assaulted my brain, shaming me further into my covers. As if Madden getting into a fight because of me wasn't embarrassing enough, I called him out about not kissing me. It was depravity to ask him about it. I knew my dad would crap bricks if he found out Madden laid a finger on me, not to mention Sammy. But that little girl inside still looked up at him with wide lustful eyes. I groaned, and kicked my leg in a way a toddler threw a tantrum. My nightstand clock read seven on a Sunday, which sucked, but I would never go back to sleep now that I'd woken up. I swung my leg down, and grabbed my prosthetic one, while putting it on, I debated on going for a run. It would definitely calm my nerves, and hopefully, make me forget the embarrassment from the night before. I grabbed my clothes, and put on my tennis shoes. The living room was silent, besides the very soft sound of Madden's breathi

"Mrs. Sanders, I need to see you. Alone," Mr. Heckles said from his office, which was located across the hallway from his human sexuality class, in a little alcove beside a small IT room. Reluctantly, I glanced at Madden, who'd been distant the entire morning. As if our kiss from the day before hadn't clouded my mind from studying like I needed to, or his freaky nightmare hadn't scared the pee out of me, his pissy attitude during our run really put me in a mood. "I'll be right back," I mumbled, hiking the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder as I walked into the room. His office was small, with bookcases filled to the brim with every book known to man. I had no idea what he wanted from me, and it made my skin crawl with nerves, and my stomach fall to my butt. "Close the door," he said, waving his pen around, not looking up from his laptop. Madden's gaze lingered on mine, from across the hallway where he waited, as I shut the door and sat down in front of him. He typed something