Chapter 1

Just another day at work. Another long drawn, annoying long and useless day at work. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why I was still working so hard at all. Too many times, I had considered throwing in the towel and just going to be a prostitute. But too many times, I’d given up that thought almost immediately, thinking about how dishonored my mother would be if she was still alive. Also, I was kind of afraid of the pain it would cause me.

It didn’t help that I was still a virgin, so I really didn’t know what to do with my body.

ANYWAY, it was a long day at work, and I was really tired out of my wits. After making the choice between the boring work of being a waitress at Macdonald’s or a junior journalist at the local news company as a part-time worker on top of studying the amazing world of Journalism, I’d obviously caved in to my hobby and ended up being a lousy researcher at the news company. I had gone in in the hopes of being recognized and hopefully promoted, securing a contract when I graduated, but so far, the hopes had all dwindled down the drain. Honestly, all I did there was to do lousy administrative work. I wasn’t even allowed to research for new topics of interest!

Heaving a heavy sigh of despondence, I pulled my sling bag further up my shoulder. It was the holiday break now, so my part-time work had temporarily been stretched up to full-time. In all honesty, the reason why I had so little friends must be because of the puny little time I got to spend between my work and my sleep. And it didn’t help that I tended to enjoy alone time when I wasn’t working.

Possibly, the only thing that perked me up was the idea of my cat waiting for me at home.

Yes, you can call me a Cat Lady. I swear, I’m going to be single in the future, being mad and turning into a Cat Tramp. I could see it in my future already.

The train carriage jerked, and someone standing behind me stumbled. With the force of something heavy I couldn’t resist, I stumbled forward too, almost losing my balance. I would have done a very ungraceful face-sprawl, but was saved quickly when an arm wrapped around my waist and I was suddenly pulled back, pressed against a hot body.

“Are you okay, Miss?” A voice of low concern asked, and I tried not to flush too much as I politely removed his arm from around my waist. Even if I had the curves to show off, I was often too disturbed by lustful eyes on me to even revel in my body shape. It applied to anyone touching me –especially stranger on the train.

“Thanks for saving me, I’m fine.” I said without looking up, hoping whoever it was didn’t see my embarrassed blush.

Hey, don’t judge, but I’m just twenty-one and socially awkward!

Spending the rest of the ride fantasizing about ways I could have been way sexier, like maybe turn around and push my breasts towards the guy or maybe popping another top button of my blouse open to show off half of my assets, I eventually alighted with no more incidents. Barely aware of my surrounding, I sighed at my monotonous life again as I tapped the subway card at the gentry.

It was me all over, the plain Jane. God must have thought me a joke, for he’d equipped me with the ample breasts and the sexy long legs, and the tiny waist and amazing hips meant for a very hot model. But something must have gone wrong in the production line, because someone forgot to put the social genes inside me. Instead, I must have travelled down that exact wrong line, because the genes I got became the socially awkward ones, and while I tended to think that I was a joke, it was only inside my mind that my jokes were hilarious.

Sad, right?

My mother always laughed at me while I grew up, saying that of all the things to have gotten from her and my non-existent father, I received their crazy genes without the ‘confidence’ gene to pull it off. When I was younger and more hopeful of the future, I had argued that I had the confidence gene, just hadn’t begun to express it.

Ten years into the future, in the present, I knew my mother had been right. I had no inch of confidence gene inside. Not even a single itty bit.

Too busy berating at my almost lifeless life, I turned down the dark street, the street with the flickering lights. I sighed heavily again. Even if the surrounding was perfect for a horror story, the horrors wouldn’t even happen to me. The ghosts, zombies and vampires probably thought me too socially awkward to even be worthy of participating in their scares. I mean; when have you seen a horror movie with the female lead being socially awkward? Sure, I had the looks and the blood-piercing scream, but that was pretty much all I could come up with.

But I forgot that it didn’t take ghosts, zombies and vampires to come up with a horror story. Humans -robbers -could too.

Alone in the dark street, I was so busy with my internal soliloquy that I didn’t even hear the footsteps of someone running. I wasn’t even aware of another presence in the same street as me until my shoulder jerked, and I, shell shocked, watched as someone clothed in all black –complete with the black beanie and black pirate-like mask –grabbed my sling bag.

My talent for being in a horror story showed as I let out a scream, then grabbed the sling of my bag before he could tear it fully away from my shoulder. The thug jerked to a stop, struggling with my adrenaline-fueled strength, and pulled hard a few times. I screamed some more, but no one was around to hear my amazing, talented vocals as I held on for a few more strong tugs.

Something like panic shone through hard black eyes –though I couldn’t see clearly with the darkness of the street –and then there was the glint of something silver singing through the air. Pain bloomed on my forearm, and I let go in my shock, watching as the stupid robber run away with the knife in his other hand.

“Mother-trucker!” I cursed as I looked at the slash on my forearm, which was bleeding quite some bit.

And then the wind of someone brushing by me came, and I looked up instinctively to see someone in a casual suit running down the street with amazing sprinter-speed. The robber turned back, and I saw eyes widening at the sight of someone chasing him, before his speed seemed to double with adrenaline. Not wanting to be left behind, I tried by best to chase after them, but I’m not an athlete like either of them, as I lagged behind.

My heart dropped when the robber turned around the corner of the street. In the crime shows I’ve watched all these while, any runaway person would disappear magically after turning any corners. I don’t know if they have the same ‘runaway guide 101’, but they always manage to disappear around corners.

Still, my helpful savior followed around the corner and disappeared too. I briefly wondered if he had the same handy ‘runaway guide 101’, because if not, I was so screwed. Every important belonging I had was kept in that lousy plain bag. My wallet, my cards, my keys and my identifications; everything. If the robber managed to get away, then I pretty much was doomed to being a nameless prostitute. Hey, maybe I could be so amazing at what I do that I could somehow be a mistress.

Yeah, wishful thinking.

My lungs were ready to burst when I turned around the corner, and viola, no one was around.

I really don’t know what else I expected.

Other than my helpful, disappearing savior, no one was around in this stupid empty street to hear my talented screams for help, and obviously no one cared. I was walking through the darker parts of the town, after all. Such talented screams like mine were probably a normal occurrence to the people living around here.

At a sudden loss of what to do, I stood there stupidly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the nugget of information knocked in my head, saying that I could possibly be attacked by psychopaths or raped by sexually-deprived men if I continued just standing there, but what can a distraught, just-robbed girl do?

You would think a twenty one year old woman like me would at least have some form of help.

Yeah, wishful thinking.

I was an orphan, barely surviving on my part-time job which took up most of my time, effectively stopping me from spending the time hooking in a boyfriend or even making friends. I never knew my father –all my mother told me was that he was a really good conman, and she left him. My mother escaped my father’s conman lifestyle to keep us safe, but it also meant her ditching all the contacts she had. So, I never knew my mother’s family too. You could consider our next-door-neighbor a family friend, but I really don’t think knocking on the door of an eccentric old lady crying would be much help.

My school life isn’t much of a help either. In college, I was the epitome of ‘nobody’. Some ‘nobody’s even have that one friend who cared for them, but not me. Don’t count my work-life either. Perhaps the only person who would notice my missing would be the cleaning lady who I always did my best to help by being the only person in the office who threw their trash in the bin. I –literally –had no one to turn to for help.

Maybe it was a little too late for such realizations, but it suddenly came upon me that I really was a pathetic woman. Even prostitutes were well-regarded by the men who wanted to have sex with them. Me? No one regarded me for anything at all.

Feeling like life had finally beaten me to pulp –having thrown the knock-out punch by sending the robber my way on such a rotten day –I decided to just give up. I sat my butt down on the pavement, and leaned against the wall at the turn of the street. Maybe I could just be a hobo or a beggar.

I didn’t really cry, because if I did, I really looked bad. Anyway, pretty girls who cried on the streets only happened to those who just got dumped badly by their boyfriends, or those who were having a camera panned their way. I had neither anyway, so the tears didn’t turn on. Even if the tears turned on, there wasn’t anyone around to comfort me either, so what was the point?

Instead, I just looked down and played with my fingers.

You know those days that you just decide to throw in the towel and say “F*** it, I’m done with this world”? That feeling suddenly crashed upon me, and even though jumping to my death would be a better option, I was too chicken to do it anyway. I decided that sitting here in the corner of the street would be better, dying of dehydration.

Going back to the corner, where I first saw you. Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I’m not gonna move. Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand, saying “If you see this girl, can you tell her where I am?”

My mind began singing the song The Man Who Can’t Be Moved by The Script, finally –a little too late –realizing that I was now homeless and literally sitting at the corner of the street. Except I wasn’t waiting here for my boyfriend, or my ex, or anyone.

Maybe if Death could take me for a girlfriend.

The sound of something dropping to the floor close to me shocked me into another talented scream, this time slightly less crazy and more subdued. Then, seeing the black wallet that had been the source of my scare, my heart leapt. My inner song-singing jarred to a stop as I swooped in, grabbing my wallet and crying out in relief at the sight of money. What was better was that I had some of my cards with me. Thank the gods! Had they been charmed by my internal ballad to them?

Keys rained from the sky next to me, and I jerked once more (no longer screaming), turning to see a familiar looking teddy-bear keychain. Ohmigosh. It was my keys.

Hugging those two special belongings, I finally dared to look up, partly hoping for more of my belongings to come falling from the skies. What I saw, instead, could only be best described as a hot, hot, hot, hot chunk of a man staring down at me. My gaze travelled appreciatively up his body, taking in his toned muscles that appeared like –literally everywhere. Standing in front of me, he looked like the statue of a Greek God had migrated suddenly to this seedy part of the town.

He had no expression on his face, but wow, that jawline definitely made my panties a little wet. I have never seen a set of cheekbones so perfect up close before, and that perky nose… I considered ripping off my blouse at the moment, if only I wasn’t so caught up in hugging my precious belongings.

“I caught up with him but he had no problems with the knife. Your wallet and keys dropped out in the struggle, but he ran off with the rest.” He opened his mouth, and out poured the voice that must be radio-type. You know how some people literally have radio-voice? Yeah, he had that radio voice.

“Thank you!” I thanked for my mental faculties, for while my thoughts went on strike, my instincts were still hardworking bees. “Thank you so much!”

Still, his face betrayed no emotions. His black eyes were still hard on me, and I wondered if I got something on my face. Self-consciously, since I was conducting myself in front of an amazing hunk, I did my best to wipe any imaginary dust from my face, but realized that my fingers were stained with blood.

My blood. I had totally forgotten about the wound the stupid robber had given to me when I tried to fight for the bag. The slash had stung, but in my despondence, I’d totally forgotten to care about it, as I stared at it now.

“Oh.” The soft exclamation escaped me as I stared at it, somehow a little lost. Give me a break; I’m twenty-one, and I’ve never been robbed before. Neither have I been saved –at least partially –by a hunk as hot as this one standing in front of me.

“You’re bleeding.” He said emotionlessly, and I looked up again, meeting his eyes. He still wasn’t showing any emotions. Was he trying to be impartial or something? Maybe it was his people-face. Some people always held poker-face. I knew this guy in the café down the road who always met his customers with poker-faces.

“Yeah, I realized.” I replied, looking down at my wound again. It probably didn’t need medical attention, just a little washing and bandage.

“You’re going strong for a woman who has been slashed and robbed.” He commented again, and though it was a strange comment to make, I was the Master at being Miss Awkward. Nothing he said could win me in terms of being socially-daft, so I forgave anything he said. Of course, he immediately earned brownie points for being so hot, and helping me get my wallet and keys back.

“Yeah, at least I got my wallet and keys back.” I pointed out. “Besides, I was pretty much ready to give up on life anyway.”

See what I mean by being the master of Awkwardness? Immediately I began to regret my words once they were out. I could imagine it –that face twisted in disgust and wariness at a potentially-suicidal man. If this guy was as sweet as he was hot, then maybe he would be alarmed and concerned and offer to send me to a psychiatrist or a mental hospital.

Both options sounded really appealing, now that I’d decided to throw in the towel on life.

I don’t know who was more surprised –he at my apparent readiness to give up, or me at his non-reaction at my suicidal declaration.

“You were sitting here, contemplating to die?” He asked in a tone that sounded like he was enquiring about some product. I stifled my giggle at that thought. Oh, if I was a salesperson, probably the only thing I would be able to sell would be dangerous doses of depression drugs.

“Well, actually I was waiting for something to happen. If not, I was going to sing songs internally in my head until I die of dehydration. Whichever comes first.” I said with a shrug. If I didn’t scare him off with my previous sentence, this declaration must scare him off now. It wasn’t that I wasn’t grateful to the man, but now that I’ve decided to give up, who cared about what other people thought about me?

I was ready to go “Bye-bye” to the world soon anyway.

“What despondence.” He commented impassively, and I struggled not to tilt my head curiously at him. For someone to stand there so emotionlessly and judge me, it felt strange. But hey, I’d decided to f*** it already, so why bother? “Do you not have a family?”

I shrugged again.

“I’m an orphan. No one at all.” It probably wasn’t something to tell a random stranger –much less a man –but what the heck. Even if he decided to rape me now, I would at least be glad that a hot man like him thought I was attractive enough to rape. Even if he wanted to kidnap me, at least I would be glad that he thought I was worth the trouble.

“No job? No friends?” He pursued further.

“I’ve decided to heck it and give up. What makes you think I’m going back to work tomorrow? I’ve got no time for friends anyway. Something would be done with my rotting corpse probably a few days later when someone finally can’t stand a blockade in the corner of the street.”

If he was amused, he didn’t show it. If he was offended, he didn’t show it. If he was disgusted or wary, he didn’t show it. Quite frankly, he didn’t show anything at all. Funny; how I was the one showing him the insights of my pathetic life, and he wasn’t even reacting. Did he even hear me?

“Absolutely no acquaintances?”

“Probably only the people who have to collect my bills. And the landlord.” I sighed, looking down at my hands again. So I got back my wallet and keys. Should I stand up and walk home and pretend that I hadn’t been robbed and go back to my never-ending life? Or should I just sit here and give up like I said I would?

“Pack your bags and find me at this address at 8am sharp tomorrow.” A card, held by a flawless hand, appeared in my view and I took it on instincts. The hand retreated the moment the card was off his hand, and I stared at the content printed on the card.

There was an address on it –an address that I immediately recognized as the most expensive residential building in the entire town. Was he kidding? There were a line of numbers hand-written at the side, and I wondered what they could mean.

Still, I flashed a quick glance at the name printed on the card.

Elxa Young.

He certainly had a ‘Young’ feel, but I wasn’t sure where the name Elxa came from. It sounded… well, unique.

It fit, though. A unique name for a hot, hot man.

I looked up to ask what the numbers meant, but he was gone. Poof! He hadn’t even made a sound. He was just… gone. I looked both sides of the street, but he couldn’t be seen. For the same fact, I hadn’t even seen him coming back to me. Granted, I wasn’t the most observant of women, but at least he had to make some sort of a sound, right?

Or maybe he was a vampire?

I sighed. If he was a vampire, then he had every rights to suck my blood dry. At least I would die happy knowing I served a vampire. Still, he had given instructions, and if I wanted to see his hot abs hidden behind his dress-shirt and his suit jacket, I would have to live another day.

I sighed once more, and kept the card behind my ID card.

I stared at the woman in the ID card staring back. She had the crazy hair of a woman who had forgotten to comb it on the day of photo-taking. If I squinted enough, she had the speck of dirt on the corner of her cheek that she forgot to wipe off. For her (and my defense) she was late, and had to run across a large Frisbee field. Of course she got dirtied.

Kaylen Hurst.

I sighed again.

I had such a nice name! It was a pity my life wasn’t equally nice.

Suck it up, Kaylen. My mind scolded as I picked myself to my feet. I should head home now if I wanted my wound cleaned.

If you meet this Mr. Young again tomorrow, maybe you won’t be such a loser. He’s hot anyway, so it doesn’t hurt to live another day. If you want to die, you can die tomorrow. Either die of shame or embarrassment; have it your way. We’re living till at least tomorrow, so you can’t say no.

If anyone knew that my mind sometimes motivated me in such a morose way, I would immediately be carted off to a mental hospital.

But the sad thing was that no one ever bothered to delve into my personal life.

Suck it up.

Deal with it Kaylen.

And maybe wait for your hot Mr. Elxa Young tomorrow.

I allowed a little smile as I walked home.

A/N: Song that Kaylen was singing (The Man Who Can't Be Moved by The Script) >>>>>>>>>>>>