The Model's Bodyguard (Romantic Suspense) [COMPLETED]

Chapter 8 - Look At My Masterpiece

Hello, lovelies! Here's chapter nine. Since this is just the beginning of the story, I'm sorry if it seems slow but I promise things will pick up really soon. Like, really soon. (: Stick with with me here, haha. Please remember to vote, comment, and fan if you liked it! Laters, baby! :D <3

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Cisco and I had made use of the crayons and paper the nurse had given us. To get this big and burly man to crouch down on the floor in a five year old position and have him doodle with me was almost a mission but he reluctantly gave in due to my persistence. And puppy dog look, of course. 

He now sat opposite of me, doodling aimlessly on his sheet with his body angled awkwardly over the coffee table. It was almost comical, the way Cisco’s body seemed so out of place in the childlike pose, but I stifled a chuckle, wary that he’d instantly drop the activity if he felt it wounded his manly pride.

I wondered for a second what he must have been like as a child, his body positioned as it was presently while he had sketched cars and superheroes. Had he been a mysterious and withdrawn young boy? Adventurous and sociable? Smart, for certain. And how had his childhood been?

Another possibility nagged at my head. Had he ever been in love with a woman? Shared a bed with not simply anyone but with the woman who had held his heart and body in her hands? A sharp pang tugged at my chest, everything inside of me recoiling at the idea, but I knew that it would have only been natural, healthy even, for him to have loved a woman. I guess I was anything but natural and healthy then. 

Maybe the distance in his eyes had been caused by that woman. Yet something in Cisco’s eyes told me that he had seen more misery than one set of eyes should ever witness. That it was something more serious than a lost love. That the contours of his life had been roughly constructed by something he’d experienced, by dangers I could not imagine and would forever remain a part of him. Was it wrong to assume so much without certainty or was it possible that my assumptions might be right? I realized now that I needed to know more about Francisco Medina.

After I added a finishing touch to the bright yellow sun that overlooked the beach on my paper, I held the sheet out in front of me to scrutinize my artwork. A smile came onto my face as I imagined being in a place like the one I had drawn, with thin heated sand, lightly swaying palm trees, and a crystal clear ocean of glimmering water.

I held the paper out to Cisco and proudly said, “Look at my masterpiece.” He looked up from his paper and his dark brown eyes went to mine, a handsome grin slowly appearing on his face. 

“It’s very nice, Mila.” Cisco complimented, his somber eyes as he gazed at my paper told me that he meant every word. They also told me that there was meaning to him, something about the ocean, and I wanted to know what it was. 

“What?” I asked gently, gazing at him. His eyes left the drawing to look into mine, causing my pulse to quicken instinctively.

“There’s many beaches where I’m from.” Cisco said and I knew that he wouldn’t reciprocate unless I probed him further. Why did he always have to be so evasive, trying his best to talk as little as possible? Especially when it was about himself.

I looked at him and arched an eyebrow in question. He sighed and shifted position, relaxing his chest and shoulders backward in a way that made him possess and even greater aura than before as he took up more space. Cisco spoke, “Back home in Miami are some of the nicest beaches in the world. I remember when my family and I would drive to the beach, just about a fifteen minute drive, every month. Sometimes I miss it, is all.” His eyes were distant and I assumed he was thinking of the times when he’d been at home with his family, laughing on the shore. My heart swelled because I knew that the distance in his eyes was a product of his loneliness. Cisco was alone here.