Elena's POV
I finally stumbled back to the comfort of my apartment, totally wiped out. The interview had actually gone pretty well. Like, there was this tiny flicker of hope that maybe-just maybe-I'd actually get the job.
Shoes off. Door slammed shut behind me. I collapsed on the couch with a dramatic groan, tugging my hair free from the suffocating ponytail to ease the pounding headache.
My phone buzzed relentlessly. Summer had been spamming me with texts, dying to hear all about it. I figured I'd reply when I got home.
Me: Hey Sam, I'm finally home.
Sam : Finally, thank fuck. I've been waiting for ages. Spill! How did it go? Give me all the details.
Me: It went well. I was super nervous at first, but once I got in there, it went pretty smoothly.
Sam : That sounds amazing. I'm so happy you finally did it. Now, we wait.
Me: Yeah, they said they'd email by Friday. Three days from now. So, we wait.
Sam : Alright, babe. I'm super proud of you. I'll text you later, bye bitch.
Me: Bye bitch, thanks.
I peeled myself off the couch, grabbed my bag, and headed to the bedroom. Out came the suffocating clothes, and in went some comfy pajamas: a black fluffy short set and a black tank top. Slipping on my fluffy socks (because I live for cozy vibes), I padded out to the kitchen.
Looked around. Nope. No cooking today. Lights off. I'd just order in.
Back in my room, I grabbed pillows and my white fluffy comforter, making myself a nest on the couch. Phone in hand, I placed my order-should be here in less than 45 minutes.
A random movie flickered on the TV, and before I knew it, I was hooked.
A knock startled me-hand on my chest, heart jumping.
Oh, right. Food. That was fast.
Less than 15 minutes had passed. I sighed, grabbed my cash, and headed to the door. Counting the money, making sure I had enough plus a tip.
I looked up to hand it over to the delivery guy-but it wasn't the delivery guy.
A man stood there, leaning to one side, clutching his stomach. His white shirt was soaked in blood. He was bleeding, and the floor beneath him was a mess.
I gasped, staring up into droopy eyes that looked like they were about to shut forever.
Shit. Now what?
Do I let him in? Stranger or not, he's hurting. Maybe I should take him to the hospital?
Fuck it.
"Come on in."
He limped inside, and I closed the door behind him, guiding him to the couch.
"Stay still. Let me grab the kit and a towel."
I dashed to the bathroom, grabbed my first aid kit and a warm towel, then knelt in front of him.
Fuck me.
He was drop-dead gorgeous. I've never seen anyone so attractive in my life.
Deep, honey-brown eyes. A slightly crooked nose. Full pink lips. A sharp jawline. Thick, curly hair that begged to be touched. Thick eyebrows and long lashes.
His broad Frame was visible through his slightly dump shirt .
It was raining outside I figured that's why he's a bit wet .
But boy ..is he gorgeous..
Jealous much? Hell yeah.
"Lift this," I whispered.
He did.
"Fuck." I gasped at the deep wound.
"What?" His voice was deep, raspy-and oh, damn, that voice sent shivers down my spine. Does this guy have any flaws?
"It's... really deep," I said, catching his gaze.
"Well, are you gonna stitch me up or just stare?" he snapped, rude as hell.
I scoffed and looked up at him.
Ah, there it is. The flaw. Rude mother fucker.
Almost threw him out. Who the hell does he think he is?
But since am a good person..and he looks like he's about to pass out ..I just shrugged his attitude.
Making it a mission to help him out then throw him out later .
But I grabbed my kit and got to work. Aunty Lily was a nurse, so I picked up some skills along the way.
It took a while, and at one point, I had to pause to get the takeout food. I set it on the table, then went back to stitching him up.
He didn't flinch once. This guy's pain tolerance was insane. I'd have passed out by now.
Finally done, I stood.
"All done. Let me get you some painkillers. Try not to move too much."
I cleaned up my tools in the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of pills.
Back in the living room-empty.
Gone.
No thank you. No goodbye. Nothing.
I sighed, heading to the couch to grab my phone-and spotted a little black card.
I picked it up, eyes scanning the bold letters: RIO.
Nothing else. Just the name.
Flipped it over. Blank.
I set it down on the table, then put the takeout food in the fridge.
Not hungry anymore. Just needing sleep.
TV off, skincare done, I slipped under my covers. The sweet scent of vanilla engulfed my senses.
Sleep came easy, but a pair of brown eyes haunted my dreams.
Rio.
The name stuck in my head like the catchiest melody.