Destined | 18+

Part 3 - Not My Type

Isla's POV

I could tell it was late afternoon when I woke up again. I felt so awful both physically and mentally. I just hoped that something was left over of my apartment. The memories came rushing back to me. I remember waking up last night barely able to breathe through the heavy smoke and heat. My apartment was on fire.

It took me a good five minutes to get out of bed. The acrobatics were probably hilarious as I struggled to not sit on the back of my thighs and not bend my legs but still make it up. But what was more fun, was trying to pee. I had to go so badly but not only could I not sit, I could barely even bend my legs without almost passing out from the pain. It would have been hilarious if it wasn't all so sad.

I looked at myself in the mirror and gasped. Holy shit, I looked like a train wreck. My hair was a rat's nest and my favourite silk nighty was now grey and black. But then I saw some clothes neatly folded for me and a note that contained instructions on how to make coffee and where to get water and food. Where. The. Fuck. Was. I?

I inspected the back of my legs and tears stung my eyes as I realized I would forever have deep scars there. I had such nice legs, but now it looked like Edward Scissorhards tried to fucking finger me. It was an abomination. Blood stained everything and the stitched up cuts were red and swollen. Silently crying, I changed into the humongous t-shirt and followed the instructions to the kitchen.

This apartment was something else. Genuinely scared for who owned it and where I was, I walked out into a large living room filled with expensive oversized furniture and modern art. A fireplace on one wall and a huge L-shaped couch faced the wall of windows that opened up to a gorgeous view of the city.

On the opposite end was a kitchen fully finished in marble and a dining table big enough for I don't know, twenty people? Who lived here? He said his name was Roman but that didn't tell me anything.

I walked super slowly and held onto the walls. God, it all hurt so much but I was dying for water. I made my way to the kitchen and noticed it all looked brand new. Did this person actually live here? I opened the fridge to get some water and it looked pristine. I mentally compared it to mine which definitely contained sauces older than two years, some beer bottles haphazardly thrown in the bottom and maybe an egg carton and some leftovers.

No. This was a well organized and spotless fridge that had drinks on one side, alcohol on the other, prepackaged meals perfectly stacked, and fruits and vegetables neatly laid out in their respective drawers.

No stinky cheese? Olives? Chili sauce? Clearly, this Roman guy didn't know how to enjoy his food. I tried to stop judging and closed the fridge door, making my way to the fancy ass coffee maker. Wow, okay dude, a moka pot does the same thing as your pimped out button barista. I loved a good moka pot, everything else tasted like hot garbage.

Yep, this fancy ass coffee tasted like shit. I looked for milk but didn't locate it in the fridge. Come on. No milk either?! Who was this weirdo?

How the hell did he find me last night, in the side alley of my new apartment that I just moved into? I didn't even get to fully unpack, hopefully it didn't all burn down. Oh God, what if I lost everything?! Moving across the country alone was hard enough and now this? I don't have any real friends here, just some acquaintances and now I have nowhere to live. Fuck. This was very unlucky.

Even if I wanted to, I couldn't go anywhere. I had no one to go to in LA.

The Roman guy startled the shit out of me! Why does he creep like this! But he was kind of mesmerizing. He looked at me and was clearly enjoying the sight of my naked legs. I probably looked like one of his girls, wearing his shirt and making coffee in his kitchen. Hah! He wishes. Not in a million years would I go for a guy like this. He's the opposite of my type.