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Mel was a peculiar child.
She was often too quiet, reserved if only for fear of rejection. The other children watched her with careful eyes, unsure of how exactly to interact with her. Of course, her teachers praised her for her good behavior and positive report cards, and the fact that she often landed above average for her age on benchmark tests.
That didn’t change the fact that, aside from her sister, she played alone during recess. Or that she searched the room endlessly for a partner when told to pair up for an assignment, often coming up empty handed.
It didn’t help that she had severe separation anxiety and, during her first several years of school, spent long periods of time on the verge of tears for fear that she would never see her mother again, despite the fact that she was going home to her at the end of each day. Her teachers had to call home to discuss possible solutions on more than one occasion.
When her father’s political career took off, it only served to emphasize her loneliness. Suddenly her world shrunk, always under a magnifying glass, as if stuck inside a bubble that served to protect her but only made life more difficult.
At age twelve, when her father announced his run for governor, she was assigned her first personal bodyguard, a surly middle aged man named Brian who was nearly twice her size, that didn’t seem to have much of a vocabulary aside from, “Yes ma’am,” or “No ma’am.” He wasn’t particularly talkative, and he frowned more often than not.
She’s sure it was a difficult job, likely stressful, but she was a child, and her parents were suddenly too busy to spend time with her, and all she wanted was someone to talk to who would actually listen and want to talk to her. As far as having to be in constant company of someone, he wasn’t the worst, usually letting her do what she wanted and only occasionally warning her of scenarios that could be too dangerous.
It made the other kids at school look at her differently, no longer with the disdain they previously had, but instead with a nervousness that told her they were scared. Of the strange man that was always with her, probably, but the feeling seemed to extend to Mel herself as well.
Life continued in much of the same manner for several years, worsening once her father announced his run for president. The night of the election, she was a ball of nerves, and selfishly, she found herself wishing he would lose, if only so life could go back to normal. She and Becca snuck off to a corner, eyes on the TV carefully as they passed a plate of snacks back and forth.
Late that night, when they watched as the news outlets projected her father to win, the room erupted in a chorus of cheers, hugs and congratulatory handshakes being passed around in a blur. Mel went up to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, turning to her mom afterwards.
Shortly after, she snuck away so she could be alone when she finally burst into tears.
Adjusting to life in the White House was anything but easy. Between news outlets posting untrue stories, not only of her parents, but of her and Becca as well, and the constant traveling and people filtering in and out of their lives, she was always on the verge of overstimulation. It wasn’t uncommon for her to leave rooms full of people in order to take a proper breath.
It didn’t get any easier with time, either.
She’s nineteen now, her father in his second year of presidency and soon announcing his campaign for a second term. It’s summer, right on the verge of the year’s hottest days, and she’s sitting in the library perched over her favorite beat up copy of Wuthering Heights.
A low chuckle sounds from beside her, followed by an amused, “You get a wrinkle between your eyebrows when you’re really focused.”
“I can’t be really focused with you interrupting me,” she retorts, looking up to meet crystal blue eyes and a smug smile she’s become all too familiar with over the last ten months.
Brian came to her last year, shortly before she made the decision to defer her college acceptance for at least a year, and announced his retirement. His wife had recently retired, and his oldest daughter was expecting her first child, and he wanted to spend more time with his family.
The following week, she met Frank, her new bodyguard.
They hit it off immediately, him only being a couple years older than her. She shied away from him at first, assuming he wasn’t interested in being anything more than a professional, keeping her at a distance much like Brian. It wasn’t until she had a meltdown at a Senate dinner and he took the extra steps to calm her down that she thought maybe he could be what she’d needed for so long.
A friend.
Now, as he sits across from her, strands of dark hair falling over his forehead as he leans his chin against one hand propped on the table, she knows he’s what she needed, and more.
“I’m not interrupting you,” he argues. “I’m merely making an observation.”
She shuts her book, leaning back in her chair to observe him. They spend most of their time together, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough. “Don’t make me have you removed from my service, Mr. Langdon.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. King.”
“C’mon, I have to get ready for tonight.”
She grins, pushing away from the mahogany table and adjusting her glasses so they sit more comfortably against the bridge of her nose. Her hand reaches for his so she can pull him out of his chair, his skin is warm when it touches hers. His thumb comes to rub against the back of her hand once, twice, before allowing it to fall to her side, and she finds herself wishing he’d kept hold of it if only for a moment longer.
He gestures to the double doors, bending near her ear to whisper, “After you.”
Frank lounges in an armchair in one of the corners of her bedroom as she darts back and forth between the bathroom and closet while preparing for the evening. It’s Fourth of July weekend, and her family’s hosting a barbecue and firework show on the South Lawn, one of many traditions they try to uphold.
Brian would stand guard outside her door, but with Frank, it’s different. He’s paid to be there, to watch over her and keep her safe, which he adheres to more strictly than anyone she’s met thus far, but he’s…more. He’s the person she seeks out when she’s feeling upset, when the watchful eyes and strict schedules become too much. There’s a buzzing she feels that only quiets when he’s nearby, there to ground her when the world becomes too much.
He receives a salary and full benefits in exchange for being her bodyguard. Being her friend, her person, wasn’t part of the job description, but he does it in a way that one would think it was.
“You staying for the fireworks or just long enough for an early exit to be excusable?” he asks, knowing she usually turns in early if she can help it. She’ll toss and turn most of the night anyway, so it helps to give herself extra time.
“I dunno,” she says. “Fireworks are loud, and there will be so many people, and the noises sound too much like- well, you know.”
“I know, Mel. It’s okay, I was just wondering.”
“Trying to get off shift early for a hot date?” She attempts to joke, but it falls flat, mouth feeling a little bit like cotton as she finishes her sentence.
He shakes his head, nose scrunching in the way she finds so very endearing as he laughs. She struggles with the clasp on her necklace, a silver pendant passed down from her mom, and sighs in frustration as she drops it back onto the dresser, finally admitting defeat.
He moves from his seat, coming to stand behind her. “Here, give it to me,” he says, gesturing to the necklace with his hand. “Oh, okay. Here.”
Mel tries not to flinch at the feel of his hand warm against her skin as he brushes her hair so it lays over one shoulder. He lifts the necklace, allowing the pendant to rest against her chest as he pulls the chain together and gently clasps it shut at the nape of her neck.
“There,” he says near her ear. “All done.”
She swallows and turns to look at him.
“I’m not sure that was part of your job description,” she starts, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the jewelry. “But thank you.”
His voice is low, gentle as he tells her, “A lot of things aren’t part of my job description, Mel.” Then, trying for a lighter tone, “Nothing’s off limits when it comes to you.”
She can feel her cheeks begin to warm and ducks her head in hopes he won’t see.
“I, um, should probably hurry and finish getting ready. I have to meet Becca downstairs soon.”
He nods, taking a step away from her so she can do as planned. When she exits the bathroom, hair done and outfit on, he’s leaning back in his chair, the book she was reading earlier cracked open in his hold.
Mel’s busy tying her shoelaces when he asks, “Do you find the main dude in this appealing?”
“Um, probably, yes.” She stands, reaching for the book so she can put it away. He can’t sit still for long without having to fidget with something, usually one of her belongings. It’s not unusual for him to peruse her bookshelf and pick a random excerpt from a book to question her about. “As far as fictional men go, he is probably one of the better ones.”
He purses his lips, using one hand to straighten the collar of his button down.
“Right, okay. Noted.”
“You’re so annoying,” she says, laughing when she nudges him with her shoulder as they walk to the door. “One day you’re gonna open one of those books to a scene you won’t like.”
“What did I do?” he asks, then, “It’s brave of you to assume I wouldn’t like the weird erotica you think I don’t know you read.”
Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she pushes him ahead of her, insisting, “Okay, let’s go.”
They’re too close, probably. Definitely, she thinks.
To be fair, the lines have been at least a little bit blurry since day one, so it’s nothing that can be helped at this point. She’s not sure what could remedy it other than the two of them being separated, which she doesn’t want. She feels like dying a little inside at the mere thought of him being pulled from her security detail.
They meet Becca downstairs to find her dressed in varying shades of red, white, and blue, a decorative headband to top it all off. She’s sprawled across a chaise, slightly bopping her head to the music playing from the Airpod in one ear.
“Frank, I thought you weren’t supposed to be on shift tonight,” she says, surprised, but smiles at the sight of him. “This is gonna be so fun now.”
“I’m here, alive and in the flesh. Couldn’t leave the King sisters to party without me.”
Becca falls into step with him, removing her Airpod and putting it in its case as they walk. From where she stands to Frank’s right, she hears her sister, a troublemaker through and through, dramatically whisper (not a whisper at all actually), “When are you gonna ask to be moved to my security detail instead?”
Frank glances over at Mel, smiling gently.
“I think I’m too attached to do that,” he shrugs. “I’m always happy to see you, though.”
Becca rolls her eyes, although there’s a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she nudges past him, her own guard following close by, though removed from her in comparison to the way Frank walks with Mel. As Becca passes, she tells him over her shoulder, “Don’t try buttering me up now, it won’t work.”
Mel huffs a laugh as he opens the door for her. “I can’t believe she’s trying to steal you.”
“She knows better. I’d never leave you.”
She returns the smile he gives her with one of her own, a proper grin this time.
The barbecue goes as well as can be expected. She greets her parents and stands with them as they go through the motions expected of the first family at such an event. There are photographers present, the flash of the cameras almost blinding from where they stand, even in broad daylight. It’s hot, a sticky, wet heat that has her clothes clinging to her skin in no time. To top it all off, her glasses can’t seem to stay put where she places them on her nose, falling down so she has to readjust them more frequently than she would like.
“Play the part of a doting daughter and smile your pretty smile,” Frank mutters beside her. “We’ll sneak away soon.”
“Pretty?”
“Beautiful, actually. Dazzle the citizens of America like you dazzle me.”
She freezes, turning her gaze to him. His mouth is open halfway, brow furrowed as though just realizing what he’s said. She’s glad the chaos surrounding them is enough to drown any of their conversation.
“I dazzle you?”
He clears his throat, nudging her forward as they walk through the crowd. “Uh, yeah, probably a conversation for another time.”
“Right,” she agrees, shaking her head as though it can be cleared that way, like an Etch-a-Sketch. God, she’s a mess. It’s somehow his fault. “Another time, then.”
She plays nice with strangers and frequent guests, friends of her mom and dad’s, campaign donors she’s become familiar with over time, and a few people whose faces she’s only seen by way of news outlets. Many of them ask how she is, and what she’s up to, and whether she plans to go to college.
Mel answers that she’s good, she’s been attempting to learn crochet amidst her crazy schedule, and yes, she does plan to go to college. She just feels like her family- her sister- needs her around for a little while longer, and that’s okay. She doesn’t resent them for that.
In the back of her mind, she thinks of college and what it would mean for her and Frank, of the fact that he may not be willing to follow her where she goes, or that her assigned security detail may change in that instance whether they want it to or not.
Though she’s had to deal with it frequently, especially in the last few years, change can be difficult for Mel. She prefers a set routine, knowing what to expect day in and day out, which isn’t always the case anymore. Since so much is out of her control, she tries to keep a routine when it comes to the things that are in her control.
The thought of having to move, to readjust her daily routines, all without Frank? It’s a nightmare scenario. Sure, she probably shouldn’t let that stop her, and she’s not- really- but she likes having him around. She’d prefer to keep him for as long as she possibly can.
As the sun begins to set and they prepare for fireworks, she and Frank slowly separate themselves from the people on the South Lawn, skirting the perimeter of the crowd, steadily creeping back toward the house.
“Ready to get out of here once and for all?” He asks, hand warm against her lower back as he maneuvers her through the sea of people.
She nearly sighs with relief, shoulders sagging from the weight of it as she confirms, “Definitely.”
They’re giggling by the time they make it to the steps, him nearly doubled over, a high pitched laugh escaping him as she takes deep breaths in an attempt to stop, a stitch beginning to form in her side.
“You tripped him,” she says pointedly, referring to a man Frank narrowly avoided colliding with only moments earlier. The man instead tripped over his foot and nearly stumbled to the ground as Frank skirted by, unscathed.
He sobers, eyes wide at her accusation. “I did no such thing.”
“I’m totally waking up tomorrow to a headline accusing my bodyguard of having a vendetta against an elderly senator.”
He cringes before asking, “Is he a Republican at least?”
Another bout of laughter starts and she has to lean against the railing along the steps leading up to the covered porch.
“I don’t know,” she says, shrill. “I don’t even know who he is. He probably isn’t even a senator.”
“Dammit. Okay, hopefully no one important then.”
They walk through the South Hall still stifling their laughter. Frank is at least attempting to look like a professional, maintaining his distance from her, though still half the berth most others give the person they’re assigned to. She’s taken aback when he grabs her hand, pulling her around a corner unexpectedly.
“Trust me?” he asks, a sly grin on his face.
“With my life, quite literally.”
He uses his badge for access to a nearby stairwell, leading her up the two flights, hand still enclosed around hers as they climb.
They end up on a balcony overlooking the party, its music and accompanying chatter muted by the height and distance. He leans back against the metal railing, watching her as she sits in one of the chairs, legs crossed in front of her.
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he looks over her, taking in the exhaustion likely marring her features even in the dim light.
“You okay?”
“Yeah- yes. I’m fine, I promise.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear before clasping her hands together in her lap, squeezing tight, but not uncomfortably so. “That was just…a lot, I guess. It all usually is.”
“I’m sorry,” he tells her, earnest, and not for the first time. “I’m sorry you don’t have a choice in any of this. Being in the public eye, all of the events, the constant presence of the annoying person assigned to keep you alive.”
She shakes her head, smiling as she comes to stand next to him, leaning with her arms crossed over the banister. He turns to face the same direction, mimicking her position.
“In all of the things I hate having no choice in, you’re not one of them, Frank.”
His gaze softens. “Yeah?”
“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t choose any of the other stuff,” she starts, turning her head to look at him, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “I would choose you, though. You- you’re kind of the best thing to come out of all of this.”
“I’d choose you, too. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
Sly, he continues, “Well, unless Becca ends up convincing me to switch to her detail.”
“Joke?” She’s pretty sure, but doesn’t like the thought of that happening in the least bit.
“Joke. I’d never leave you, Mel.”
His fingers creep along the cool metal until they’re touching the tips of hers, a current of electricity buzzing in the space between.
“I’d never want you to.”
Her gaze shifts to his mouth, and she thinks, for a brief moment, that she wants to kiss him. She thinks he’d probably let her.
“Do you think, if things were different, we’d still be friends?” She asks. It doesn’t matter, it’s a non-question, because things aren’t different. They never will be.
“I like to think so.”
“What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this? How do you think we would have met?”
“Well.” He ponders her words, his pinky landing more heavily against hers. “I always wanted to be a doctor, even did a year and a half of undergrad on the pre-med track. I like to think we would’ve met somewhere on campus, maybe in an anatomy or physiology lab.”
“Me too,” she whispers. “I’ve always wanted to be a doctor, too. I think I would have seen you in class and chickened out of ever talking to you.”
“What- Why?”
“Because you’re older, and- well, you’re hot, okay? I would’ve been too scared to say anything.”
“We’ll circle back to the ‘hot’ comment later.” He smiles, smug, and she simultaneously loves and hates it, her face burning from embarrassment at the admission. “I would have said hi to you, though. Probably would have pretended to need tutoring so I could spend time with you.”
“You would not,” she argues, laughing. “You would have never even noticed me.”
His voice is soft as he counters, “Trust me, I would have noticed you.”
“I’ve never been any good at making friends. I probably wouldn’t be in that universe, either.”
“I’d have been your friend anyway.” Turning to face her, somehow even more gentle, he admits, “I’d be your friend in any universe, Mel. No matter the how or why.”
Her throat feels thick with the threat of tears when she tells him, “Thank you,” grappling for a hold of his hand, her own landing clumsily atop his where it rests against the railing.
The fireworks start, the dark sky suddenly set alight with color. She jumps at the beginning of them, and he chuckles, pulling her close with an arm around her shoulders. Though there’s a crowd of people below, she doesn’t mind, the night enough to disguise the way she nuzzles in close against his chest.
Her mind races with thoughts of unspoken promises and the conversations they need to have, the complexities they’ll bring. She doesn’t feel anxious at the thought, though, only excitement. Life is strange these days, chaotic, and often a bit scary.
Frank makes it easier, though, bearable—enjoyable.
A large firework sounds above them, washing the sky in a deep shade of red, a dazzling gold soon after. Mel jumps at the noise, hand covering her mouth when a squeal manages to escape, and she feels Frank’s chest move with laughter, deep in his throat.
For the first time, he drops a kiss to the top of her head, lingering longer than necessary, yet still not long enough.
“I’ve got you,” he says, and she believes him.