Falling Helplessly

Chapter 9 | Have I been kidnapped?

9

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ISABELLA

I groan in pain, pulling the blanket covering me over my eyes. The sunlight floods through the white sheets, making my headache worse. I try to reposition my aching body. But my eyes spring open when the realization hits me; I do not own white sheets.

I tear the covers off and stare at the unfamiliar room. An awful smell invades my nose, I see the vomit stains all over my dress and instantly stand. Just as I'm about to pry myself out of my clothes, I notice a bright green sticky note hanging on the lamp.

"Calm down, you're safe in my apartment. Take the Advil and go to the next sticky note on the door – Miles."

So, I'm in Miles' apartment, taking part in a scavenger hunt with post-it notes. Releasing a deep breath, I dry swallow the Advil and walk to the next post-it.

"Do not come out of this room until you walk in this door and shower, you need one - Miles."

"Rude," I mutter under my breath, even though he's not wrong. I push open the door and when I see myself in the mirror, I instantly strip and step into the shower. I need something stronger than soap to cleanse me. Maybe bleach.

When my body is red from scrubbing and I've deemed myself clean enough to get out, I look around for something to wear. The only clean thing is the robe hanging on the door. Shrugging, I wrap the soft fabric around my naked body and brush my teeth with the brand-new toothbrush sitting on the sink.

I did not picture Miles to be the type of guy with spare toothbrushes. As my mind wanders to why he would have them, I quickly ignore the thoughts.

There is one more sticky note on a door that says, "exit here." I open the other door and amble down a long plain hallway into what seems to be a living room. To the right, I see Miles at the kitchen table eating cereal.

"Miles?" My voice catches his attention and I pull the robe tighter around my body.

He smiles when our eyes meet and stands up, striding over. I swallow when I notice his plaid pajama pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. He has no shirt on, so I see his chiseled chest girls always talk about. Now I know why they talk about it.

"Good morning," he says. His brown hair is tousled like he just woke up and the bags under his eyes are quite noticeable but don't take away from his good looks. "I see you followed the sticky notes, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, still really dizzy. Thank you for the Advil and for letting me shower."

"No problem, sorry I didn't have any clean clothes for you." His hand rubs the back of his neck, causing his muscles to ripple. I feel hot wrapped in this robe. "It was that robe or a t-shirt of mine."

I would have worn his t-shirt. But I lie, and say, "This is good, thanks."

He pulls out a dining room chair and nods toward it, signaling for me to sit.

Once I'm seated, he asks, "Would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, juice?"

"No, thanks."

He continues walking to the kitchen, anyway. "Too bad, I'm getting you coffee."

I watch his abs flex as he reaches for a mug in the cabinet. He pours me a cup, and before he can ask, I tell him how I take it. "A little bit of creamer with one spoonful of sugar, please."