"Look! An anime store! Oh my god! Kari, we have to go there!" Leanne practically screeched . I let out a small squeak and covered my ears with the two books I had in my hand. My eyes darted towards her as my bottom lip began to pucker out. I could even feel it trembling and I knew I had acheived the full-on puppy dog eyes. "But, Kari! We spent half an hour in the bookstore!"

"It's not like it was wasteful!" I whined and pointed, book still in my hand, towards the small bundle of magazines and how-to books in Leanne's hands. She let out a soft harrumph. Leanne began to chew on her bottom lip, looking towards me then towards the anime store. However, I knew what she was going to do even before she did. My cute attacks were futile against her anime and manga. 

Leanne finally finished abusing her lip as she let out a pretty little sigh. "How about this then? You'll spend however much time you need in here with your fictional character's problems –"

"Hey! Anime characters are fictional too! Urgh!"

"– And I'll be in the anime store with my anime characters. Deal? C'mon, Kari, anime characters have people cosplaying them. A lot of book characters aren't cosplayed," Leanne begged in her normal princess fashion. I know she didn't say please or thank you or asked nicely... but it was Leanne. And I did drag her to the bookstore. 

"Okay... I'll text you. It's right across the street, right?" I muttered reluctantly. I clutched the two hardcover novels I had in my hand to my chest, looking up at her. I idly thought about how everyone says Asians are short... but here one is, considerably taller than me. Does that mean I'm shorter than what's told to be normal?

Leanne nodded, not even saying good-bye as she fluttered down the street. I gulped as I looked towards the magnitude of people. 

New York. Boy, this was an adventure. I was sent to the huge city to do a photoshoot. People really liked my pictures and saw how "bright and vibrant a young woman" I was. So, Leanne and I arrived here 2 days before. 8 more days of hustle bustle and this strange exhaust smell. I didn't find it appealing but Leanne proclaimed it to be the exotic scent of the concrete jungle. She told me I should start getting used to it and even more so, enjoy it. If I were to become a big model, I'd be around it daily.

With a small pout on my face, I began to look around the aisles of different worlds and universes. I always loved going to bookstores for that reason. That, if I picked just one of these books up, I'd be transported to a whole new and different world. It was always like a secret the book and I shared. It made it feel delightful, the idea that no one would know what world I was in at first glance. It was why I loved reading. It looked so inconspicuous, even though it was so wonderful and thrilling. 

I had finally purchased the last book of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series... and it made me so giddy. The library back in my hometown didn't have it. And honestly, I probably could have found it in Toronto for a lot less in some obscure bookstore. However, Leanne gave me no time to rummage through them. She wanted to be in New York as quicky as possible. So I settled for this version at the fancy New York bookstore. 

And... I know I promised myself that I wouldn't buy a whole series in one go. It's too much books to carry and the weight will bug me until I get to the hotel and I will never stop reading and I get too distracted knowing I have the whole story at my disposal. But I had decided to buy the House of Night series anyway. They looked so interesting and mesmerizing! I just couldn't help it! The idea of a different type of vampyre, spelt with a 'y'. I got too curious!

Buying too much books was probably the reason why this all happened in the first place. The bookstore gave me a fabric bag with thick straps, so the books wouldn't fall onto the scarily dirty pavement. My shoulder began to scream numbness as soon as I reached the intersection. I shuffled my body around as if it'd soothe my achiness. 

In all my excitement at having found a new world, I had forgotten about texting Leanne. A squeak escaped past my lips and strangers gave me strange looks. I always knew that's why they were called "strangers". They made themselves strange-looking when you didn't seem passive in public. I wiggled enough so that the straps of my purse fell into the crevasse that was created by my bent elbow. I awkwardly fished for my phone.

As soon as I had it out, with my pretty little Hello Kitty case, I began trying to text. Emphasis on "trying". The little green man appeared at the stoplight and a flurry of businessmen and chatty women hoarded me onto the street. I stuck out my tongue to try and concentrate on texting and walking and balancing my books at the same time. That is no easy business, let me tell you that. 

I almost made the all-clear. Almost. That is, until some burly man thought that I was taking too long and shoved me forward to make me go faster. I let out a yelp as I collapsed onto the street. My books fell out of the black fabric bag, all the pretty hardcovers becoming dirtied with New York dirty and shoeprints. My knees burned, suddenly becoming sensitive to the dangerous world around me. 

But, the one thing, the factor that paralyzed me in the middle of the street was my phone. I had dropped it upon impact with the gravel. My eyes never let the pretty pink bow cast off to the right side of the case.

Until the bow had disappeared into the murky blackness of a sewer drain. 

My phone was gone. At the moment, as I was frozen with shock, all that ran through my mind was the fact that my text didn't send in time. My mind reeled idly about the possibility that there could be a signal down in the sewers. Would it still send in the middle of everyone's waste? Would it short circuit? Was the sewer water... watery enough for it do that? That text better send.

Any noises were blurry inside my frazzled and dismantled mind. I thought I could hear people screaming. I thought I could hear horns honking. I thought I could still hear the strange always-there hustle bustle of New York. But I couldn't tell for sure. I was dazed. My phone was gone. 

My phone was gone. 

The next thing that completely and fully registered in my mind was someone helping me up. At that point did I realize that my hands were bruised and scraped up, much similar to both my knees and one elbow. I had a knick on my chin; I could tell that by the exhaust breeze brushing up against the cut tenderly. The only thing I was still carrying was my purse as I was ushered out of the street and onto the sidewalk.

I began to register the way people were looking at me. Some were looking at me with annoyance, at the fact that I had slowed down their busy working day by not getting up in time. Some were looking at me with worry, bound by the bystander syndrome to ask if I was okay.

Others just glanced at me and moved on – I couldn't be bothered with. I was used to that look... and I always figured that's why I let my mom talk me into being a model. I didn't want to be used to that look anymore.

"Hey! Hey, are you okay? Listen to me!" the person helping me asked me, concern clearly ridden in his voice. He had an accent... one I couldn't exactly place. I nodded absently, still in a trance. My phone – my pictures – my...

"M-My ships! My pairings! My fan art! All saved on that phone! And it's gone! What am I supposed to do? Vladimir and Snow – A-And Percabeth! What about my Cap and Black Widow fanart! Storm and Black Panther! Peeta and Katniss! Agh! A-All my beautiful ships! And Joss! Beautiful, beautiful Joss!" I began to cry hysterically. "Do you know what this means?"

My rescuer looked towards me with an are-you-serious look. "That you're obviously a fangirl?" 

Another squeak, offended in all its glory, left me. My lips began to pucker and tremble, unable to hide the hurt I obviously felt. "I. Am. Not. A fangirl!" 

It was then that I really took a good look at my rescuer. He had orange-ish red hair that was longer for a short boy hairstyle. He wore a bright yellow Spongebob snapback. His sweater was a dark blue hue and the cuffs looked rather washed out. However, I couldn't stop admiring his face. He was Asian. And I haven't met many Asians throughout the course of my life, coming from a small town in the middle of Canadian winter. But goodness, he was phenomenal. I tried doing my puppy-dog look on him.

To which he responded in some foreign language rather bitterly. I thought I heard "Ricky" in there somewhere. But hey, it could mean anything. I only know English and small bits of French. Blame my small town for that. 

Before I knew it, water came into contact with my knee. I let out a whine, a childish whine that toddlers would make if they had their toys taken away. I began to flail my torso, shake my shoulders and move my mouth into all sorts of shapes. "I need to wash it! Now hold still!" he barked. 

"But it hurts!" I whined some more. It was in the middle of my tantrumming that I noticed he wore my book bag securely around his shoulder. The way he wore it as he cleaned my wounds made it look as if they were his. For some beyond crazy reason, I was a little bothered with that. "Those are my books."

"I know. You'll get them when I'm done." 

"I want them now! Sssst!" I winced as he began to dab at my knee with a wet napkin. 

"No."

"Now!"

"No."

"Please?"

He looked up at me. His brown eyes softened for a moment before looking back down at my knee. "No."

"C'mon, guy!"

"No. My name is not guy."

"Then what is it?" 

"It's L. Joe."

"Give me my books, L. Joe."

"No." 

"Damn."

I crossed my arms, huffing as I looked to where he had guided me. It was a small, open candy parlour. Inside, I could see all sorts of sugar-coated, chocolate-drizzled, cream-stuffed goodies that are bound to give diabetes to even the healthiest person. The doors were open and a small family sat across from us, eating ice cream cones. They looked happy, ignoring us. 

"Let me see your hands and elbow," he suddenly demanded. L. Joe looked in no mood to bicker. His eyes lost their softness before and had become rigid. I grumbled incoherent words as I disdainfully unfolded my arms. He held his hand up, demanding me to cooperate without any use of words. My grumbling became louder, more distasteful. Still, like a spoiled child, I raised my hands and rested them on his hand. 

"Ssst! It hurts! Stop it!"

"No."

"Agh. I don't want this! L. Joe!"

"No. You need them clean."

"They're hurting!" I started bouncing in my seat, throwing a small tantrum once again. I didn't want to have anything to do with him! Despite being handsome, his rude way of saying "no" was getting on my nerves. He acted so haughty, as if I should be grateful I was in his presence. Yeah, I know you rescued me but come on. I'm not that indebted to you. With a huff and a small hissy breath, I mumbled, "Kari."

"What was that?"

"Kari. My name's Kari."

L. Joe grinned. Gracious, he had a nice smile. It was dazzling. Even more mesmerizing than the pretty covers the House of Night books had! "Kari. It's nice to meet you."

A pause coming from me. A spitefully proud pause. However, I was defeated as he looked at me with those soft eyes in the midst of cleaning up my elbow. "Nice to meet you too, L. Joe... Thanks."

"That was a terrible thank you."

I grumbled incoherently again. Then I hastily stuttered out, "T-Thank you for y'know, uh, helping me up and stuff. When I was – well, stuck on the ground. Cleaning out my wounds, too. That was... helpful."

"You still don't get your books back."

"What?! Those are my books! Mine! I bought them! They're mine." I began to let out a tearless sob. "Just give me back my books!" 

"Let me help you to where you're going," L. Joe said in a rather playful tone of voice. I gulped, unable to react to this new set of information. This handsome fellow, a stranger in his own right, wants to help me out? He didn't even know me! He knew nothing... important about who I am! Why me? 

My lips pursed out, contemplating. What would Leanne do? Be a princess, of course. She'd expect me to say yes. If I said no, she'd reprimand me about it until I go back home and she goes back to the city. She'd smile all politely and act like her flirtatious self around him, the way all models do around equally as attractive people. 

Ha, why can't I behave like a normal model? 

"Okay. Alright," I said, throwing my hands up like a surrendering white flag. "Fine. I am going to the anime store over there. To meet a friend of mine. She loves anime and manga."

"Like you love books?" L. Joe asked. Holy criminy, his accent was getting to me. The more he spoke, the more I wanted to listen to his Asian drawl of English words. I stood up, trying to act proud and mighty. 

"Y-Yeah. Like I love books."

"And ships, too." The sudden burst made my brow furrow. Ships? What was he –

"My phone!"

Ta-da! First chapter! Hope you liked it! Kari is a fun character and her not knowing the fame L. Joe has makes it so much better. Her phone! D: Gasp. 

For the record, this is set during L. Joe's vacation to New York after TEEN TOP's "No More Perform On You" promotions. Yeah! LOL 

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