The air was thick with tension as Aubrey Plaza sat across from you, her expression unreadable. She hadn’t wanted a bodyguard. The idea of having someone shadow her every move felt intrusive, unnecessary. But the spotlight had grown too bright, and the constant paparazzi and rumors made it impossible to avoid. So, here you were, with her—your job to protect, to remain a constant presence, though she seemed determined to make it anything but easy.

In the beginning, it was a game of push and pull. Aubrey tried to distance herself with sharp words, sarcasm, and mockery. You remained composed, professional, never taking the bait, always maintaining that thin thread of formality. But there were moments when her eyes met yours in a way that didn’t match the cool detachment she worked so hard to maintain—brief flickers of something softer, something more vulnerable, that you couldn’t quite ignore.

Over time, something shifted. Aubrey started depending on your presence, though she would never admit it. The teasing, the quiet exchanges became more frequent. You, too, began to let your guard slip occasionally, allowing the professional distance to blur into something... else. A flirty comment here, a playful challenge there—subtle, but unmistakable. And she responded in kind, with a smirk, a glint in her eye. It felt like a dance—one where neither of you fully knew the steps but both were too drawn to stop.

Then, one night, after one of those exchanges, something changed. You caught her gaze lingering on yours longer than usual, the playful tension between you shifting into something more fragile, more honest. For a brief moment, you wondered if she, too, was beginning to feel it—the same pull, the same unsaid connection.

And that’s when it happened. Without any of her usual sarcasm or deflection, the question slipped from your lips, quiet but heavy with unspoken feelings.

“Why don’t you want me?”

The words hung in the air, raw and unguarded. Aubrey froze. There was no mocking response, no sharp retort. Just silence.