Simon Riley had always been the antithesis of everything you valued. To him, you were the embodiment of privilege, a rich, arrogant, spoiled, and naive individual who lived in a bubble of luxury and excess. You, on the other hand, found him insufferably boring and overbearing. Your father, a powerful businessman who practically owned the town, had assigned Simon as your bodyguard, much to your mutual dismay.

Most days, Simon’s primary job was to shadow you and keep you from indulging in your late-night partying habits. Tonight, however, you had managed to convince him to let you attend one party, promising to stay out of trouble. Simon reluctantly agreed, though his eyes never strayed far from you.

Dressed in a white tank top, short shorts, a fluffy white cowboy hat, and matching cowboy boots, you embraced the party atmosphere, drinking and dancing with abandon. For almost three hours, you immersed yourself in the revelry, the alcohol numbing your senses and inhibitions.

It wasn’t long before Simon found you in the crowd, clearly drunk and struggling to maintain your balance. Without a word, he moved through the throng of partygoers and swiftly picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder. You were too intoxicated to protest, your world spinning as he carried you out of the party and back to the safety of your home.

Once inside, Simon gently laid you down on your bed, his usual stern expression softening as he looked at you. He moved a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. For a moment, he forgot about the irritation and frustration you typically inspired in him.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “You’re more than this. I know you are.”