[4] I'm Body Guarding the President's Jerk Son...Who is Hot! FML!

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[4] I'm Body Guarding the President's Jerk Son...Who Is HOT...FML!

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My internal clock forced my eyelids open at five the next morning. I immediately jumped out of bed, pushing the blandly-colored covers aside. I unzipped my duffel bag and pulled out a few articles of necessary toiletry. I unlocked the door to the bathroom after listening with my ear pressed to the door for signs of life on the other side. Score! I guess Mr. Jerk Face was the kind of person who got out of bed late.

Once inside, I quickly brushed my teeth and splashed my face with cold water. I looked up at the mirror, blinking away crystalline water droplets from my eyelashes. A weary face stared back at me. The shadows underneath my eyes and my pallor made me look like a frightened child much younger than seventeen. What was with this place and the people here that made me revisit a past better left forgotten?

I roughly pulled my wavy black hair away from my face and bound it in a high pony tail. I stared at my reflection and saw the familiar almond eyes staring back at me-my mother's eyes. I pursed my full lips together and tried vainly to rub some of my natural tan back into my smooth complexion. My features somehow worked together even though I was a blend of many different cultures. My mom was Japanese and Italian, whereas my dad is predominantly French with a little drop of Indian somewhere in there. So, the product was me-a girl that could blend in with any crowd in any country on the face of this planet. It was a useful characteristic that fit perfectly with my job.

I went back to my room and orderly unpacked my bag by putting my clothes in neat stacks in a bedside drawer. I placed a framed picture of my family when it was still whole underneath the brass lamp. I blew a gentle kiss at my mother's smiling face before quickly changing from my pj's to army pants and a form-fitting shirt.

I walked stuffed the duffel bag under my bed and strode purposefully out the door. I walked down the hall, rushed down the stairs, and headed for the White House's indoor track. I recalled the route by remembering yesterday's tour by Mr. Stevens.

I successfully found it and entered through the main doors. No one was here except...

The President?

I tried backing out, but Mr. Taylor caught sight of me and beckoned me to him. I had no choice but to reluctantly join him on a morning jog. Mr. Taylor was a pretty fit guy for someone in his late forties.

He smiled at me kindly, "Decided to enjoy the White House's benefits, have we?"

I smiled back. "Yessir. Truth be told, I didn't expect you to be here."

"What? I don't look fit enough to run?" He demanded.

I quick backtracked, "Sorry, sir! I just meant to point out that not many people have the willpower to get out of bed at this hour just for a quick jog."

He laughed. "I find it pretty distressing, especially since I have a long day ahead of me today." He sighed. "Carolina, you've changed so much."

Haven't we been over this yesterday?

I patiently jogged at his pace, though it was much too slow to get my heart rate up by much. It would seem rude to leave the President of the United States of America behind in my wake.

"You don't have to call me sir," Mr. Taylor offered.

I shook my head. "Work policy. Sorry, sir. Boss's orders."

His eyes were sad. "And you call your father boss, do you?"

I nodded curtly.

Why did he look so sad? Was it because he was mourning the death of my innocence-a carefree childhood long lost?

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