She loves the rain; the way it erases traces of everything. For her, it's a symbol of a slate being cleaned; a new beginning. And that is what keeps her alive. For now, at least.
Standing outside a cozy bar, she lets the downpour soak her from head to toe, making her white dress stick to her like a second skin. She has nothing except a tattered small black sling bag. Her long black hair hangs around her face like a wet curtain. After a moment of staring in through the glass doors, she finally steps inside.
As soon as she walks in, heads start turning in her direction. Despite the disheveled appearance, she exudes an appeal that is even more magnified by her drenched figure. She goes straight to the bar and tries to order a gin and tonic.
"Uhm, do you have an ID?" the bartender eyes her small stature, attempting so hard not to stare at her see-through dress.
"I don't have it with me right now," she mutters under her breath. The bartender gives her a look.
"Gin and tonic. Make it two."
A deep masculine voice pipes in. The man peers over at the oblivious girl beside him. She looks even more pathetic at a closer look. When the bartender hands him his drinks, he slides the other one to her.
"What did you do? Swim your way over here?" he asks sarcastically.
His playfulness disappears when he notices bright fresh scars visible underneath the sheer long-sleeves. She shivers.
"Are you alright?"
He immediately removes his bomber jacket, revealing a full sleeve tattoo, and places the jacket on her.
Instead of replying, she downs the cocktail in one gulp. His eyebrows shoot upwards, impressed.
"You're clearly over 18 or you're just well-versed in underage drinking."
She remains silent, gazing down senselessly at the empty glass.
"I know you could talk. Don't worry, I'm not a cop."
At that, she finally lifts her eyes to his face. He's right. He doesn't seem like a cop. He resembles a person who is being chased by a cop much more. His stubble makes it hard for her to guess his age. His dark eyes have a dangerous glint like it have witnessed its unfair share of the unforgiving reality of the world. For some reason, she doesn't feel intimidated by his menacing looks.
"Are you just visiting? Or do you have anyone with you?"
"I don't have anyone," she replies, her voice emotionless. She doesn't care anymore if she just told a total stranger in an unfamiliar city that she's all alone in the world.
"You look like you could use some rest. I have a spare room in my apartment. You can stay the night there."
At once, she gets down from the stool. He stops her, slightly amused but at the same time, concerned at her complacency.
"Let's wait for the rain to stop first. It'd be dangerous to take my motorcycle in this weather."
She shakes her head rapidly. "No motorcycle."
"You want to walk?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
It is apparent in his expression that it is indeed, too much trouble. His apartment is not that far from the bar but he doesn't want to walk the next morning to get his motorcycle. Still, he finds himself relenting.
"Alright. Do you want another drink?"
He signals to the bartender for another two as she nodded. A stocky man approaches them and pats him on the back. His beady eyes hover on the mysterious girl, raking over her body.
"Nice catch, Roman."
Roman pushes the man away who chuckles drunkenly. He doesn't want to scare her away, not when he just convinced her to go home with him. He immediately veers the conversation away.
"What's your name? You could tell me that at least."
"Mia."
He offers his hand out. "Nice to meet you, Mia. I'm Roman."
They have four drinks before the rain completely stops. Mia does not talk the whole time; her gaze is focused on her surroundings as if memorizing every building. Roman just watches her silently, her every move is making him more enthralled to her by the minute.
They finally reach his apartment. The place surpasses her expectations. It is spacious with two rooms opposite each other on both ends. It makes her wonder what he does for a living. Mia reckons that he would bring her to an abandoned building and it will be her last day. Not that she would be complaining.
"Make yourself at home. Wait here."
As soon as Roman disappears to his room, Mia collapses on the couch. The place is too good to be true to be offered for free. From what she comes from, there is no such thing as free. But at least, she has a bed to crash into now. She can leave the thinking for tomorrow. For now, she feels like she can breathe again. Her eyelids start to feel heavy. She lets herself be pulled down to the darkness.
A gentle tap brings her back to consciousness.
"Hey, don't snooze off yet. You have to dry yourself first or you'll get sick. Here, you can borrow my clothes. Just put your things in the dryer. Do you need anything else?"
She shakes her head. In a small voice, she speaks up, "Thank you."
He scratches his stubble in discomfort. "Just don't fall asleep in the tub."
ROMAN’S POV
Roman is setting up the bed when Mia finally enters the room. She looks ridiculous in his clothes which are twice her size. She has to tie the waistband of the sweatpants just so it wouldn't fall off her and the sleeves of his sweater have gone past her fingertips.
"This is the best I could do. Don't be shy if-"
He just finishes putting on the comforter when out of nowhere, she starts undressing.
"Whoa, what the hell are you doing!?" he exclaims, quickly glancing away from her exposed stomach.
Mia pauses before pulling the sweater completely over her head. "Is this not what you're expecting? I don't have a lot of money. I thought that was obvious."
"Put it back on. I don't know where the hell you came from but that's not what we do over here," he grunts, hand still over his eyes.
Her eyebrows furrow. "Don't you want it?"
"I do—"
Roman stops himself and sighs heavily. He covers his face with the palm of his hand. He never would have guessed she comes from that kind of environment. It must be the reason why she looks like she ran away from somewhere, he concludes. What did he just get himself into?
"Just go and sleep already. You had a long day."
He walks toward the door and then glances back at her. She is looking at him, doe-eyed. Right there and then, he is glad he reached her first before any unpleasant character could.
"I'm not a bad guy, Mia," Roman assures her. She gives him a weak smile, crossing her arms against her chest.
"But do lock the door."
