Hey guys. So this is one of my new projects. I've been taking a bit of a break from I May Be in Love With Spiderman because I've encountered a bit of a writer's block. So this is just a bit of a drabble-y type thing. Kind of fluffy, really cutesy. I probably won't finish it, but for now I just need to get this out of my head so these ideas don't interfere with mine for Spiderman. I hope you enjoy it.
Lots of Love! Emma

Chapter 1

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” Nico called from the hallway. “Your mom wants you up and dressed in twenty.”

I detested my personal alarm clock.

“You couldn’t have told me that twenty minutes ago!” I growled, rolling out of bed.

A pause, then a muffled, “Nope,”

I knew that sound. I sniffed then padded towards my door hesitantly. I knew that smell.

“What are you eating?” I asked sharply.

Another pause, “Nothing,”

“Yes you are, “ I accused. “Did you… did you get Dunkin’ Donuts?”

“No,”

“Yes you did! Don’t lie to me, Nico!”

“Then fine, I did,” he admitted. “Picked it up before work.”

“Stores are actually open then?” Nico got to my apartment freakishly early and left freakishly late. When I was fifteen, I stayed up all night once, just to see what time he left and what time he came. He left at one in the morning, to double check I was down for the night and not likely to get into any danger and came back at four thirty. I was still unsure how he got home in time to eat and sleep and still get here on time, considering he lives in Queens. My mom offers to give him the guest room week after week, but he insisted he liked to keep a bit of a ‘professional distance’ from his charges. Yeah, right. In my dreams.

“Shockingly, Regan, people get up in time to work,” he hinted sarcastically through the door.

I yanked the door open, glowering up at him, “I’m up, aren’t I?”

He strolled in, opening the lid of his coffee as he did to let the warm, beany smell drift through my room.

“Barely, Rey, just barely,”

I put my hands on my hips and squinted at him as he flicked the switch, flooding my room with light.

“I hate when you do that,” I grumbled. He knew I had a particular routine I liked to follow in the morning. I like to wake up leisurely, not turning on any lights until I’ve smoothed my hair down a bit, brushed my teeth, gotten used to the feeling of walking on solid ground instead of the cloud in my dreams. At the end of all this, I would dramatically yank my curtains open, reveling in the Manhattan sunlight streaming through my windows. Nico, forever a childish brat, refused to let me enjoy this.

“Love you too,” he said sweetly and plopped himself down on my couch.

Nico and I had a strange relationship. He started working for me—my dad—when he was twenty-three and straight out of college. While I hadn’t grown up with him, I felt an immediate attachment to the man who acted like a protective older brother. The only difference was he could actually carry out his death threats. Nico hadn’t always been so fun loving. The first few months on the job, he was a wordless, mindless zombie who just stood outside my classrooms, followed exactly five feet behind me and ran into darkened rooms to scan the perimeter before I entered. Four years later, he’s pretty much realized the whole “Men in Black” act isn’t really necessary for and overtime, he’s loosened up to be my fun-loving, pesky bodyguard that I love deep, deep down. I, however, never love him in the mornings.

“So, what are we wearing this morning?” he said with mock interest.

“Ugly blouse, ugly vest, ugly skirt, ugly socks, ugly shoes,” I rattled off as I pulled my extra uniform down from my closet. I eyed his suit jealously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m so jealous!”

“Of?” he asked confusedly. “My dashing good looks? My charm?”

“Get real,” I snorted. “Of your suit, dumbass. You get to wear whatever you want and you don’t look like a pornstar.”

He choked on the hot coffee, struggling to swallow while his eyes bugged out at me.

“I’m sure your father would love to hear that,”

“Ooh, I’m shaking now!”

“Senator Lombetti would not be pleased with you calling me a ‘dumbass’ or referring to yourself as a pornstar,”

“But both are the truth,” I insisted, somewhat childishly. “Daddy always told me to tell the truth.”

“Of course,” he grumbled.

--

“Regan!” Mom called from the kitchen. “You’re going to be late for school!”

I strolled into the living room and grabbed a bagel from the bowl and took a large bite, “Nu-uh. Nico would never let that happen,”

Nico chuckled from the hallway, “Yeah right, kiddo. My job is to make sure you don’t get kidnapped. If you’re late in the process, so be it.”

I rolled my eyes and took a bottle of water from the fridge and wedged it into my schoolbag, “Well, the least you could do is carry my back for me,”

He snorted from the hallway again and unlocked the front door.

“’Bye Mom,” I called from the hall as I followed Nico to the elevator.

The ride down sixteen floors was quiet. Nico stood in the corner with his arms cross, staring ahead sternly. We stopped on the fourth floor, as we did every morning, to let Mrs. Silver on. She was an eighty-something year old woman with her reading glasses perched precariously on the tip of her long nose, lipstick smudged on her bottom lip and blue eyeshadow so bright, it put the sky to shame. Every day, it was the same routine.

She got on the elevator and huffed at the sight of Nico, “Young lady, I don’t think it’s very appropriate for this young man to stay at your home overnight.”

I smiled wanly, “Good morning, Mrs. Silver,” I took her oversized grocery tote from her leathery fist. “You must remember Nico by now. He’s my bodyguard. Not my boyfriend.”

“Shame, he’s quite the looker,” she smiled toothily at me before lifting her glasses higher and peering closely at my face. “Ah, yes yes. You’re the Senator’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“Yes ma’am,” I grinned.

She huffed again and fell silent. Every few seconds, she’d send Nico an untrusting glare until we finally got to the lobby. She hobbled off the elevator as the doors dinged open, shouting to Maurice to get her a taxi.

“Good morning, Maurice!” I yelled to the doorman as I strutted down East 79th towards Madison.

“Good morning, Regan!” he called back. He had deliberated for years over whether to call me Miss Johnston or Miss Lombetti until I got sick of him changing his mind every other day and demanded that he call me Regan.

We were two blocks down toward school when my feet started to hurt. Hewitt made us wear ugly penny loafers that bit into our toes and it was then I wished I either lived closer to school or far enough away so as to be able to take a taxi or bus or anything.

“Nicooo,” I whined. He was taking huge paces, striding ahead of me to clear a path between the stockbrokers making their ways to the subway. “Why did Dad have to give me a bodyguard? Nothing’s ever going to happen to me. A limo would be much more useful.”

I could hear his chuckle, “Bring it up with your father, Rey!”

“Fine, maybe I will,” I grumbled, glaring at his back.

I stared pitifully at the storefronts as I counted the final blocks before I saw it. There. In front of the Duane Reed. The headline placard had my last name on it. Well, my other last name. It read, in big, bold block lettering: Senator Lombetti to Marry Girlfriend of Three Years.

“NICO!” I screeched.

“MOVE!” I heard Nico yelling from somewhere down the sidewalk. People began hustling out of the way at the six-foot, bulky man in black came sprinting towards me. “REGAN! DON’T MOVE! I’M COMING!”

I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. I was cemented in front of that placard, hoping it wasn’t true. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Giselle Lopez, my dad’s girlfriend—fiancé—because I did. She was fun. She was young. We went shopping on weekends and she talked to me about boys and stuff. She made my dad happy. But she wasn’t Mom. I don’t know, call me crazy or say it’s just the hopeless romantic in me, but I wished every night that my parents would fall in love again and get married. Mom still loved him; I’d never seen her go out on a date or go anyplace with the intent of meeting a man. Sure, she had plenty of guy friends, but they were all ‘business’. I don’t think she ever intended to marry, especially someone who wasn’t my dad.

“Regan, Regan are you all right?” Nico grasped my shoulders and wrenched my gaze from the headline to him.

My mouth gaped open and I raised my arm slowly, pointing. He mouthed the words and I watched as his eyes grew wide.

“Shit,” he murmured. “Rey, are…”

“Shh,” I ordered. I took out my phone and punched in speed dial three and waited. “Call school. Tell them I’m not feeling well or something…”

“Hello?” a faded voice answered.

“Dad?” I responded quickly.

“Regan? Regan, is everything all right?” his breath was coming in short bursts and I could hear papers being shuffled in the background. A door slammed. “Where the hell is Nico? Why isn’t he doing something? Who did it? Are you hurt?”

“Dad, Dad, I’m not hurt,” I said slowly. “But…”

“Shit, where are you Rey? I’m coming. I’ll get the NYPD… hell, the FBI there as soon as I can,” he was panicking. His drawer slid open and I heard the jangle of keys.

“DAD! Would you just listen?” I shouted. “Why the hell did I have to find out about your engagement from The Post? Why didn’t you call me?”

“Rey Rey! Is that it?” he laughed softly. “I asked her late last night… I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Bullshit,”

“Don’t talk to me like that young lady!” he said forcefully. “You know very well that’s the truth.”

“Fine… you could’ve e-mailed me or left a message,” I complained. “Besides, this is the kind of thing that shouldn’t wait. You could’ve woken me up!”

“Your mom would’ve had a fit,”

“Mom’s going to have a fit either way,” I muttered.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing, Dad. Nothing,” I grimaced and fell silent.

“Regan, why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?”

“There’s nothing I’m not telling you,” I replied evasively. “It’s… it’s…. well… you… just…”

“Yes…?” he prompted.

“It’s…” I paused and sighed deeply. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“C’mon kiddo, it’s me!”

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. I still couldn’t get the words out.

“Rey… it’s just me getting remarried… C’mon! You like Giselle, don’t you?”

“What about Mom?” I cried. “I don’t see how you can do this to her.”

“Regan…”

“I have to go Dad,” I whispered. “I’m going to be late for school.”

I closed my phone and slipped it into my bag. I made no move to leave my spot in front of the Duane Reed; Nico made no move to try to make me.

“Regan,” he said softly. “I think you should get to school. You can talk to the counselor there… or Amanda. Amanda will take care of you.”

I let him wrap his arm around me and lead me to school. That day was going to be a disaster. I wouldn’t be able to focus. I wouldn’t be able to smile. I wouldn’t be able to think of anything except that the last of my fantastic dreams I had been allowed to keep was crushed.