I'll Protect You (Re-Edit #2, 2016)

The legend of the Locker Ghost

dedicated to maya for the lovely cover she made!

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"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday!" my father sang quite passionately, dancing along to Rebecca Black's viral hit. No, you didn't  hear me wrong. Yes, my father was indeed singing to that god-forsaken song as it played from the speakers on his phone. 

"Looking forward to the weekend! Partyin', partyin', yeah!" and he fist-pumped the air. "Come on, Park sing along with me!"

"No."

"Come on, sweetheart. You have to get into the spirit!"

"It's not even Friday," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. "It's Monday."

"Alright, Ms. Technical," my father said. "Go ahead and ruin your father's mood in the morning, won't you?"

Before he could keep on complaining about my lack of energy at six-thirty in the morning, the doorbell sang its melody and he shut up. My father was occupied with washing the dishes at the moment, so I got up and wandered down the hallway towards the door. Through the peephole, I could see Cross--I mean, Logan standing there. 

I unlocked the door and pulled it open. His cheeks were flushed from the slight cold in the morning air. He looked at me with sleepy eyes and wrinkled his expression when his gaze drifted upwards to my wig.

"It is extremely weird to see you with red hair now," he commented. "It's uglier than I remembered."

"Well, you're just as ugly as I remembered," I retorted coolly. "Would you like coffee? You look dead on your feet."

"Talk about a complete 180," he mused. "And no thank you, since we're talking so civilly. You probably spat in it."

"How can you think so lowly of me?" I gasped in mock horror. I moved aside, gesturing for him to head in, but Logan merely stood still until I took the initiative and moved towards the kitchen. Logan followed me then, closing the door behind him. While I resumed my spot on the kitchen counter, Logan paused in the entrance to the kitchen, gawking at my father. 

"Do you like my apron?" my father asked, looking down at the frilly white apron decorated with pie and apple prints tied at his waist.  

"Good morning, Your Highness," Logan greeted, clearly avoiding having to answer the question. 

"He didn't answer," my father pouted, turning to me with a frown as though I was supposed to do something to fix it."

"That's because it's an ugly apron," I shrugged. 

"No!" Logan protested immediately. "It's beautiful! It's really...majestic."

My father turned to me again, though this time, his wide, beaming smile challenged the morning sun's radiance while Logan looked at me with desperation in his eyes. 

"See? Logan has manners," my father said before he turned back to my new bodyguard. "Would you like some coffee?"

He could say no to me, but under the pressure of my father's smile, Logan only nodded in an eager manner. I sighed, sliding off the counter to grab a paper cup from besides our coffee machine before pressing the 'BREW' button. 

When all the coffee had gone into the cup, I aimed to grab some sugar from the container beside the machine when Logan's hand snatched my wrist and pulled it back. 

"No sugar," Logan instructed before he dropped his grip, sticking his hand into the pocket of his slacks. 

"Do you want crème?" I asked but Logan shook his head. "So you want it just black like your soul?"