Saved || Bodyguard Connor x Reader

Chapter 10: The Party

You stare at the mirror, contemplating your reflection. Light blue eyeshadow and elegant earrings. A stupid fancy dress, and classy heels. You really don't feel like going to another of Valerie's extravagant parties, but she's your best friend—how could you say no?

You tug at the bustline of the gown, fidgeting with the fabric. It fits well, maybe too well, hugging curves you don't usually care to emphasize. The color looks nice on you, but the whole thing just feels... unnatural. It's not you.

A knock at the door.

"Miss, Y/N?"

You sigh, smoothing down your dress one last time before swinging it open.

Connor stands there.

His sharp gaze scans you from head to toe. His LED flickers yellow. He doesn't speak. He doesn't even blink. He just stares.

You shift awkwardly under his gaze, feeling unusually self-conscious. "What?" you ask.

He says nothing at first. His brows twitch ever so slightly, and for a moment, his mouth parts like he's about to speak—but he doesn't. His LED pulses yellow again, scanning, computing, running some kind of invisible equation you can't begin to decipher.

You raise an eyebrow. "Earth to Connor?"

He blinks rapidly, LED flickering back to blue. "Your transport is waiting downstairs." His voice is clipped, more rigid than usual.

"Okay," you say slowly. "Right."

Still, he doesn't move.

You shift awkwardly. "You good? You look like you just bluescreened."

Connor clears his throat—a habitual response, not a necessary one. "I was simply... analyzing the structural integrity of your attire."

You squint. "Analyzing my—Connor, it's a dress, not a skyscraper."

"Yes." He hesitates. "It is... visually distinct from your usual wardrobe."

For some reason, that makes heat creep up your neck. "Yeah, well, blame Valerie," you mutter, grabbing your purse. "Let's just get this over with."

Connor follows you to the curb, his usual precise steps in sync with yours. You catch him glancing at you again—quick, subtle, like he's trying not to be obvious about it.

When you step outside, a sleek black limo with tinted windows is idling, the driver standing by the open door. Of course, Valerie would send something ridiculously over the top.

You slide inside the limo. As Connor settles beside you, the car hums to life, pulling smoothly away from the curb. You exhale and sink into the plush seat, but there's a strange sense of anticipation curling in your stomach.

You don't know if it's because of the party itself...

Or because of the way Connor looked at you back there.

┈┈·୨ ✦ ୧·┈┈

You arrive and the first thing that greets your ears is Valerie's shrill scream. "Y/N! BESTIE YOU CAME!"

You step out of the limo, Connor following out behind you. You spot her. She's dressed in a bright sequin dress, hair curled, with bold glamour makeup. She runs up to you and grabs your hand, already dragging you inside.

"You look a.m.a.z.i.n.g!" she grins, eyeing your attire.

You breathe out a chuckle. "Thanks, so do you."

"Gotta go greet my other guests, go out there and have some fun, girl!" Val says, winking before disappearing. 

The party is loud. You clench your purse, glancing around the crowded venue. The music thrums through the air, a steady bass vibrating in your chest as people laugh, drink, and sway to the rhythm.

Everything is opulent, over-the-top, and very  Valerie.

Connor stands beside you, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. You lock gazes. His intense brown eyes bore into you, it's almost.... hypnotic. You clear your throat and break away first. "I'm... going to get a drink."

Connor nods as he watches you walk away. His systems felt weird, why did he feel the need to look at you so much? Millions of thoughts ran through his synthetic mind, but he didn't understand.

You weave through the sea of wealthy socialites, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air. The scent of expensive perfume lingers as you reach the lavishly stocked bar.

The bartender barely acknowledges you before sliding a drink across the counter, as if already anticipating what you'd want. You hesitate. Did Valerie pre-arrange this? Of course, she did.

As you take a sip, you feel it—that prickling sensation of being watched.

You glance around, and sure enough, a few guests are sneaking glances in your direction. Some whisper behind their champagne flutes. Others outright stare.

"Is that—?"

"It's her, isn't it? You know, that celebrity's kid."

"Didn't expect to see her here... maybe I should go ask for her dad's phone number."

You grip the glass a little tighter. You should be used to this by now, but it never stops being uncomfortable.

Connor stands a few feet away, positioned like a silent guardian. His gaze flicks from face to face, scanning, assessing, calculating every variable in the room.

You sigh and stand up and leave the bar, making your way back to Connor only to be stopped by a husky voice. "Hey, Miss?" You turn around.

A guy in his early twenties. Blond. Effortlessly charming, well-dressed, and carrying the kind of confidence that makes it clear he's used to getting what he wants.

"I couldn't help but notice you from across the room," he says, flashing a smooth smile. "You're very stylish, I must say."

You awkwardly smile back. "Oh, ahaha. Thank you."

"Name's Arlo, pleasure to meet you." He swiftly takes out his phone and holds it out to you. "May I have your number?"

You open your mouth to refuse, but then—a hand brushes your arm.

It's a light touch, barely even there, but before you can react—

Connor moves.

In an instant, he steps between you and Arlo, his frame rigid, his posture stiff with something close to tension. His LED flickers from blue to yellow as his sharp eyes lock onto the man.

"Don't touch her."