MISS BLONDE
1400 Words
Julia woke to the sounds of laughter—shrieking, giggling, tiny feet pounding across a wooden floor. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. Her eyes fluttered open, and she pushed herself upright, swaying until her hand found the nightstand for balance. Heat wrapped around her thickly from multiple layers of clothing, but that was the least of her concerns.
She blinked, taking in the room. It was twice the size of her old apartment, warm and aesthetically painted in soft greys and whites. Minimalist. Calm. Safe.
Safe?
Her numb feet tingled painfully as she took slow, deliberate steps toward the door. She turned the knob, and a burst of bright light forced her to squint—until a tall shadow fell across her.
“Finally, you’re awake.” The voice was deep, warm, and close. “Thought you almost died.”
Julia opened her eyes fully—and froze.
A man stood before her, gently touching her forehead to check her temperature. She stared, stunned, entranced. Was this what Claire meant the moment she saw her prince charming? Because this man… this man looked like one.
He slipped a hair warmer over her head carefully, his fingers brushing her skin.
“Miss Blonde? You okay?” he asked, snapping his fingers to pull her back from her trance.
Miss Blonde? What kind of name was that?
She swallowed, trying to gather the little dignity she had left. “What… what am I doing here? And who are you?” She tried to sound firm, but she knew her shameful staring had already betrayed her.
“Well, thank you too, Miss Blonde,” he said, stepping back and sliding his hands into his pockets.
That was when Julia truly saw him.
And God… she understood why her brain short-circuited.
His polo clung perfectly to his built arms, sleeves stretched over defined biceps. His hair—thick, curly, dark—looked like he had just run his fingers through it. But his eyes… those piercing blue eyes… they pulled her in like a riptide. And towering above her, he looked carved out of winter itself.
“Miss Blonde,” he said, snapping again. “You space out a lot.”
“I—I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m still dizzy from yesterday and—”
Then everything hit her at once.
The train. The cold. The bench.
The worst night of her life.
“What am I doing here? Where is this place?” she demanded.
“I’m sure that even if you were stubborn growing up, someone taught you to say thank you when you’re helped,” he said, ignoring her questions entirely.
“Thank you?” she repeated incredulously. “What if I’m currently kidnapped to be enslaved or—” she folded her arms—“have my organs harvested?”
He raised a brow. “If I wanted your organs, I wouldn’t have patiently warmed you up and dressed you in my clothes first. I’d have done it last night while you were frozen solid. Less mess. Easier cleanup. Snowstorm covers everything.”
Julia’s mouth dropped open.
“I’m not saying you kidnapped me,” she corrected quickly. “I’m saying—why did you bring me here?”
“That’s not the way to talk to someone who saved you from freezing to death,” he replied coolly, stepping away. “Or being eaten by a hungry bear. But sure, go ahead.”
“I didn’t beg you to save me,” she snapped.
“Great. Then you can peel off everything that’s not yours and find your way back to wherever you came from,” he said over his shoulder, heading down the stairs.
“Wait—I’m sorry!” she called. “I didn’t mean it. It’s just… a lot of—”
He stopped halfway down and looked back, his expression unreadable.
“I think both the thank you and the apology are too late,” he said quietly. “Save them for the next person who finds you frozen on a bench.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
“Daddy, is she awake?” a small voice squealed, followed by hurried footsteps.
Daddy?
He was someone’s father?
Julia leaned slightly over the staircase rail, peeking—just enough to see two little girls tugging at his sleeves, looking up at him with adoration.
Her heart stumbled.
Okay, no need to worry about him, she told herself. I just need to get to the station and see if the thief was caught.
She hurried back to the bedroom and stripped off the warm clothes, muttering to herself—until she stepped into the bathroom.
“Wow…” she breathed.
The bathroom was massive—polished counters, soft lighting, a giant mirror reflecting her bedraggled silhouette.
“God, I look pathetic,” she groaned, splashing water on her face and smoothing back her hair. “Better.”
Quietly, she crept downstairs.
The living room was warm and picturesque: a tall Christmas tree stood proudly, though undecorated, with ornaments scattered around it. Wrapping paper littered the floor beside heaps of unwrapped gifts.
“Ugh, so annoying,” she muttered, slipping toward the door, ready to disappear before he noticed she was gone
Julia eased the front door shut behind her, careful not to make a sound. The cold air brushed her face, and she let out a shaky breath—finally, she could slip out unnoticed.
She turned—
—and froze.
The entire family stood there staring at her.
Two children.
One extremely displeased father.
And her, caught like a thief sneaking out of a castle.
“Oh my God… this guy is going to kill me,” she muttered under her breath, panic painting her features.
Her gaze—and every functioning nerve in her body—shifted to him.
Alex.
Bare-chested, towel slung over his shoulder, wiping down the trunk of his car.
His muscles caught the morning light like something straight out of a Christmas romance calendar.
He noticed her staring and—almost offended—pulled on his polo with rigid, deliberate movements.
“I—I’m heading out,” Julia blurted, too loudly, pointing vaguely toward nothing and everything all at once. She turned to leave, but a tiny voice stopped her.
“Wait, miss!”
It was Eve—rushing toward her with messy hair and an innocent smile.
Anna ran after her immediately, pulling her back like a mother hen rescuing her chick.
“Sorry,” Anna said hurriedly, positioning herself between Julia and her sister. “She’s… she’s just friendly with strangers.”
Julia’s shoulders softened. “It’s okay,” she said gently, looking at the two little girls—so precious, so pure.
Then, hesitantly, she turned to Alex.
He was still at the car, cleaning the trunk with an unnecessary level of focus—clearly pretending she didn’t exist. Every motion, every flex of his arm said I am ignoring you on purpose.
Julia’s heart thumped painfully.
If Claire actually wished to Santa for a Romeo for me… then Santa clearly took her very seriously, she thought, catching the sharp outline of his jaw, the way the light caught his curls.
She gathered her courage.
“I… really want to apologize for this morning,” she said, her voice soft.
Silence.
He didn’t even turn his head.
“And I want to say thank you. Truly,” she continued, her voice cracking slightly. “If not for you, I would have been dead this morning. You saved me… and I’m grateful.”
Still nothing.
His silence fell heavy, like fresh snow.
Julia took a deep breath and nodded, accepting the cold truth.
“So… have a nice day. And… merry Christmas.”
She stepped onto the walkway, her figure growing smaller as she walked away, white flakes beginning to drift around her.
Only when she was far enough—when she was a tiny, brave silhouette crossing the snowy street—did Alex finally glance up.
He watched her quietly, something unspoken settling in his chest.
“Damn…” he whispered under his breath, almost annoyed at himself.
“…she’s beautiful.”
He shut the trunk, slid into his car, and the engine hummed to life—but his eyes lingered on the place she had disappeared long after.
- Writer
