Bodyguard University: I Hate Loving You

Bees and Honey

Kinn's Point of View: 

Damnit!

I hissed in frustration as soon as I saw the knife join the other dozen on the wall 15 centimeters away from the head. Surveying down the row of students, I saw that most everyone had at least hit the target, albeit with subpar accuracy. Mine had failed to so much as pierce the outline of the person's body on the poster.

Ram quietly tapped my shoulder and offered me another knife. Nodding a "Thank you," I accepted it. I had to be more focused.

Shiny and metallic, the thin knife fit well between my fingers. The spine was straight and curved on the opposing side, similar to a kitchen knife. Opposite to a kitchen knife, it was flat and had grooves on one side. At the pinnacle was a razor-sharp point that was thick enough not to bend upon impact. Man, I really loved holding these. They were less stressful than the guns my father gave me.

Positioning the knife under my thumb, I sucked in a relaxing breath. I straightened my posture and ensured my right foot was forward and slightly in front of my left.

Porsche didn't want to be my bodyguard, right?

Flustered by my thoughts trailing to him, again, I shook my head and tried to ignore my mind.

Arching my arm back, I hailed the handle towards the ceiling. I focused on my target, then I chucked it. It cleanly sliced through the air and stuck to the other side of the target's head, another 15 centimeters away.

I renounced my hands in the air and muttered in dismay. Nope. Porsche's huffy face was embedded in my brain. Not wanting to be a safety hazard, I stepped aside for Ram to have a turn and went to cool myself down.

I'd be lying to myself if I said that the whole Pairing thing wasn't worrying me. No one deserved to be forced into the freakshow known as my life. It would only be a matter of time before someone got shot at or kidnapped. And I wasn't going to let that someone be me.

On a reassuring note, Porsche seemed just as disinterested as I was disliking the idea of being together. Eventually, though, we'd have to face the facts and stick together if Porsche wanted to graduate. That was the most concerning part. Porsche had this terrible need to prove himself. It was only a matter of time before he put actual effort into this. I didn't know him that well, but I could tell he wasn't the type of person to back down easily.

Still, his graduation didn't affect me. I was going to do anything I could to drive him away. Better alive and failing than dead and buried.

Near the line of chairs against the back, I grabbed a cold water from the cooler and downed the fresh beverage. Smoothly, it slid down my throat. Some dribbled past my chin and dotted my black T-shirt. Leaning against the wall, I observed Ram's movements.

His form wasn't that bad. I would've recommended he straightened his posture a bit more, but I couldn't deny that he was better than a majority of our class.

It was nice to be friends with someone like him. His hard-to-read nature reminded me a lot of home. The popping compass and dreamcatcher tattoo inked on the left side of his neck really gave me a sense of nostalgia. Many preppy and uptight people went here. Ram was easier to relate to.

After yielding the knife in the center of the heart, Ram accompanied me for a drink. If you didn't know how to read him, you'd think his blank expression meant he was used to the success, but I could see the subtle smile in his eyes.

He plucked a bottle from the bucket and plopped in the seat next to me.

"Nice shot," I complimented.