1

CHLOE

I had just been rejected by yet another publishing company, and the best remedy I could think of was drowning my sorrows at the bar. Normally, I'd retreat to my apartment and wallow in self-pity, but tonight was different. I found myself at the bar, indulging in drinks to numb the pain.

"Josh!" I called out, or at least I thought that was his name. Even if it wasn't, it wasn't his job to correct me; he was there to serve me alcohol. He hurried over, and while he was cute, he wasn't exactly my type. Maybe it was because he sounded like someone I knew, and I couldn't stand him.

Blond hair, blue eyes, nice lips... but that voice? Ew.

I shook my empty glass in front of his face. "Another vodka, please!" I had to yell at the top of my voice due to the blaring music in the club. He grabbed the same bottle of vodka as if it had been reserved just for me. Pouring it into my glass, he earned a smile from me—not because I was flirting, but because he was an excellent bartender. As I took a sip, I felt a little less miserable than I had three hours ago when my work was rejected.

"Your story is too bland," the old man had said, making me want to strangle him. 

Of course, I couldn't resort to violence and tarnish my reputation. Instead, I chose to come to the club, drowning my frustration in a sea of drinks. Okay, maybe more than a few. I even felt the urge to dance, though I was conflicted. Resting my head on the table, I noticed a man on my right staring at me. He raised his glass with a stupid smirk on his face. Probably just looking for a hookup, not happening tonight, pal.

He wasn't my type at all—bald, hairy all over, and a dirty-looking beard. I wouldn't be surprised if he reeked of body odour. I really hoped he wouldn't come anywhere near me. He motioned for Josh to serve him. 

This was the part where he'd buy me a drink, and sure enough, Josh dropped a glass of martini in front of me. I lifted my head and looked at him, captivated by his beautiful blue eyes. Maybe I should overlook the resemblance with that person and just have some fun with him—keeping his mouth shut, of course. I didn't want it to feel like I was having sex with that person instead because I didn't have fond memories of him.

I nodded at Josh, expressing my gratitude, then glanced at the man and offered a smile. I didn't want to be rude, but I also didn't want his company at that moment. It had been a terrible day, and all I wanted was to be left alone. Yet, he stood up from his stool and made his way towards me. What the heck? Why was he coming over? I no longer cared about the martini; I just wanted to go home.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, his breath reeking of alcohol. I bet mine did too, but I wasn't approaching anyone. 

Yes, I knew I was beautiful—a stunning blonde that any man would desire. But seriously, Jesus, why were men so dumb with their needs?

"Hey," I responded quietly, forcing a smile. 

I hoped he could sense my discomfort and leave me alone.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. 

This man's breath was unbearable. He moved closer, and I instinctively grabbed my pink bag, which contained the pages of my rejected book.

"I really need to go." I tried to walk away, but he grabbed my hand. 

Sobering up a bit, I struggled to free myself from his grip. When he wouldn't let go, I decided to create a scene. However, before I could scream, a man's voice interrupted me.

"Hey!" someone shouted. 

I turned to find the most stunning creature I had ever laid eyes on. He was even more beautiful than Josh, and thankfully, he didn't sound like Josh at all. With his brown hair, brown eyes, and the way I could see his muscles through his shirt, he was a sight to behold. Dressed in a black shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers, he exuded both charm and a hint of a bulge—though I might've just been drunk.

He looked around my age, or maybe slightly older, not that his age mattered. The creepy man still had a hold on me, so I decided to improvise.

"Sweetie! You came to get me," I sang, trying to make it sound convincing. 

And voilà, it worked. The creepy guy, with his foul breath and hairy body, left me alone. I moved closer to the handsome stranger, already feeling safer with him by my side.

"Sorry," the man said. "I didn't know she had a boyfriend."

"Even if she didn't have a boyfriend, would you have left her alone?" the handsome guy asked, his tone more demanding than a question. 

He also smelled fresh, which I loved. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Whoa, hold on, Chloe. Maybe I should calm down—I just met the guy.

The man didn't answer, causing the handsome stranger to scoff. He took my hand, and together, we walked away from the loud music, alcohol, and creepy men. The cool breeze slapped me in the face, instantly sobering me up. Geez, I couldn't remember the last time I got this drunk.

Actually, I could. It was during my freshman year of college when I accidentally got wasted at a party and ended up sleeping with my roommate's hot boyfriend. Useless to say, my roommate didn't speak to me for a whole year. I had also gained a reputation as a campus slut, which everyone seemed to forget as soon as freshman year ended. 

I still regretted what I did to her. I wondered how she was doing. And as for this hot man, I hoped he liked me. But I definitely wasn't going to divulge the details of my escapades with my roommate's boyfriend. He would think I was a slut too, and I couldn't blame him.

"Do you have a ride, or can I take you home?" he asked.

"Mm? Oh yeah, sure. You can take me home, or anywhere," I replied absentmindedly. Oops, I was still a bit drunk. He chuckled, finding it amusing rather than crazy. Interesting.

"Come on, I'll show you where my car is." I followed him to a sleek black BMW, and my jaw almost dropped. 

Serial killers couldn't possibly drive such fancy cars, right? He opened the front door for me, and I blushed as I got in. Serial killers weren't usually gentlemen either. But what did I know? I didn't watch serial killer documentaries on N*****x; I was more into romantic stories. Although, I couldn't seem to write a groundbreaking romance novel that would get published.

Ugh! You know what? I wasn't giving up. I would keep my head held high and write another book—one that they would love. I couldn't give up now; I wouldn't give up.

The hunk was in the car, closing the door behind him before facing me.

"Are you sober enough to give me directions to your place?" he asked. 

I nodded, and all I wanted to do was kiss him. That's what I wanted to do right now. He started the car, and we drove off. I turned to face the window and caught sight of the creepy man staring at us. Weird much?

I didn't want to dwell on what might have happened if this handsome man hadn't come to my rescue. Why was I being so dramatic? Nothing would have happened. I would have caused a scene, and people would have chased the man away. Or maybe I would have kicked him in the balls, which usually made men fall to their knees.

We arrived at my apartment building, and as we sat in the car, silence fell between us. I looked at the building, but I had no idea what he was looking at. Maybe he was looking at me? 

"I live upstairs," I said, still not looking at him.

"Do you want me to help you up?" he offered.

Hmm, a tall, handsome stranger escorting me to my apartment. Was that a good idea? Would Ms Minnie, my next-door neighbour, give him googly eyes? Well, she probably would, but let's just pray she doesn't come out of her house unless her stupid cat goes missing again.

"Sure," I replied, and he got out of the car. 

I was about to open my door, but he beat me to it. How did he move so fast? I stepped out of the car, and he closed the door behind me. Awkwardly standing close to him, I marvelled at his beauty. How could a man be so breathtaking? I had never seen anything like it. 

He was like a mythical creature. I'd had my fair share of crushes, but they were all douchebags. I also had a boyfriend during my junior year of high school, but he didn't really care about me. He just wanted to have sex with me because I was one of the hottest girls in school. What a dumbass.

We stood by my apartment door, and I retrieved my keys. Dressed in a pink floral blouse, black pantsuit, and high heels, I had dressed formally today, only to be rejected. I needed to shake off that rejection and gather my courage. Many famous authors faced rejection at first. Why should I be any different? It was perfectly normal for my work to be rejected.

As I turned the lock, staring at the brown "Welcome Home" mat, I did so slowly to make sure he wouldn't leave. I stepped into my apartment, and then I turned to face him. He had that adorable smile on his face. He looked like a model. If he was, I would definitely find his I*******m account and stalk him—or better yet, what if he were a porn star? Then I'd have to get his name and G****e it, just to be sure.

"Thank you," I said to him.

"It was no problem," he replied, and we stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. God, he was so beautiful. Did he think the same way about me? I hoped so.

"Alright, goodnight." He began to leave, but then a wicked idea struck me.

"Wait!" I called out, and he turned around to face me. I didn't know what else to say, but... "Stay." I placed my hand on him, and he looked at it, then back at me. I hoped he didn't think I was crazy.