Lost

Unidentified Lurker

Jasmine

Saturday! Finally, a day I don't hate!

An incessant string of beeps harasses my ears while I'm still in bed. My eyebrows knit together in confusion. I don't remember setting my alarm last night.

I grab my phone from under my pillow and turn off the alarm. Just when I am about to climb out of bed, my phone rings, and I hurl it across the blanket instinctively.

Shoulders frigid, I cautiously reach for the phone and breathe in relief when I see Trevor's face on the screen.

My second eldest brother.

"Hello?" I try to sound nonchalant.

"Hi, little sister. I just wanted to check in on you. Why'd you take so long answering the phone?"

Damn it, my fingers are still shaky. "I was still asleep! You disturbed my slumber, you know."

I can't let him, or anyone in my family know of my predicament. I can handle this dilemma on my own. If they ever find out I can't even survive one measly problem, they'll send me back to America, and that's the last thing I want to happen.

"Have you made friends? Are you eating on time? Is your apartment safe?"

"Of course I have friends. Yes, I am eating on time. And obviously, it's secure. Quill even inspected the place last week."

"Well.. okay. Are you happy?"

His question catches me off guard. But before I can dwell on it, I lie, "Yes, I'm more than happy. I'm euphoric."

After I end the call, I stare at the black screen of my phone, feeling melancholic. What makes a person happy? Being rich beyond their wildest dreams? Having tons of friends? Living a famous lifestyle, free to wear any exclusive outfits and travel foreign places while dining on exotic dishes?

Why don't I feel happy? I'm wealthy, prominent, and one of the most beautiful faces in Asia and Europe. I'm every woman's envy and every man's fantasy.

But I feel so empty. What am I missing?

"Ah!" I cry out when my phone rings for the nth time this hellish week.

My violet eyes widen in shock. I erased this number yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that..

When I open the message, I scream at the top of my lungs and drop my phone to the ground. I sprint into the living room, petrified to see a familiar sticky note on the flat screen television:

You smell nice when you're sleeping

I scream even louder as I pull the door open, rush to Unit H8, and rap my fist on the door as if my life depends on it, and I feel like it does.

"Nameless Guy! Open up! Open up!" I'm pounding on his door like a crazed maniac.

After a few seconds, the door finally opens to reveal a teen male with black hair and wearing only Marvel boxers. 

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stares at me through the screen door. Now that I'm close to him, I can see that his eyes are actually gray tinged with green.

His eyes are so peculiar. "What do you want?" he asks blearily, yawning into his palm.

"I um..." I rub my palms together, too proud to admit that I'm afraid. "I need.. sugar. Yes! I need sugar.. for my coffee.."

The guy lifts a cynical brow at my pitiful answer. "There's a cafe downstairs."

"Cream," I say stupidly, hating how dumb I must sound right now. "I-I need.. cream."

"I don't have time for this," he utters with a sigh, moving to close the door on my face. How dare he? Doesn't he know who I am? Millions of people would die to get this attention from me!

"Bathroom!" I blurt out before he can shut the door completely. He pauses in the doorway and studies me intently as I continue frantically, "I need to use your bathroom."

Exasperation curtains his face. He has the nerve to roll his eyes at me. "Can't you be honest? I heard you screaming for three whole minutes."

When he opens the metal door wider, I hurriedly walk inside his unit, hugging my bare arms while sweeping my gaze around his apartment.

Did he just roll his eyes again? What the hell is his problem anyway?

"Look," says the guy, making coffee on the coffee machine in his small kitchen. "If you tell me what's bothering you, I'll let you stay here for a few days."

"And what will you get in return?" I ask tauntingly, folding my arms in front of my ample chest. "My time? My money? My body? Don't flatter yourself. I may be single but I'm not desperate."

The guy puts on a shirt and turns off the coffee machine. Without looking at me, he starts pouring coffee into two white mugs. Before he takes a sip, he replies calmly, "I'll let you know when the day comes."

"Typical," I retort, reaching for the second mug, which he is offering to me. "I'm not going to sleep with you, let's just make that clear."

"Crystal," he responds, taking a longer sip of his coffee while gazing at the wall. Then he adds more quietly, "I have standards as well."

"What did you say?" I couldn't hear that last part. I hate it when people mumble.

"I said I need to buy more hair gel," he says with a queer smile.

"By the way," I say, remembering an important detail. "Go to my apartment and get my phone and some of my clothes." I take a sip of coffee. It's surprisingly yummy, not that I'll ever admit that to him.

"Bossy," he mutters.

Now that, I heard clearly. "What was that?" I'm giving him a chance to change his answer.

"I said you're bossy," he says before leaving his unit and moving into my apartment.

A sudden flash of light makes me look at the small window in the kitchen. 

No, impossible. This is the eighth floor. How can someone--

"Hey." The black-haired guy appears in the doorway, his face a sickly pallor. But the main point is, he's carrying an armful of my clothes, including my uniforms and pajamas, while his other hand is clutching my phone.

I'm about to take the device from him, but he moves it  out of my reach. "Give it!" I demand.

He's staring at me. "Did you notice anything weird while I was gone?"

When his words sink in, I feel my face turn white as snow. "There's a new message, isn't there?" I say, the horror in my voice unmistakable.

The guy shows me my phone, which displays the first two pictures I saw when I woke up: The first photo is of me in a bikini at Forever 21. The second image is of me about to enter my apartment the night I got home from Trevor's engagement party.

He scrolls further down, and the newest picture is enough to make me pass out in the stranger's arms.

It's a photo of me in a tangerine tank top and shorts, standing in the middle of Unit H8, just a few seconds ago.