Keeping Isabelle

Not remembering when I fell asleep, I opened my tired eyes. I was lying down in a leather sofa, in a very expensive looking living room. A fireplace in front of me was burning bright, casting a warm glow onto the room.

"Um, hello?" I called out, siting up, and pushing the blanket of me. "Where are you?"

"I'm right here, love," the man said behind me. I jumped and looked at the beautiful stranger, remembering his pine tree colored eyes. The man laughed. "I'm sorry, I usually don't have many visitors."
The man, who had chocolate colored, curly hair, a warm complexion, and a bright smile. He settled down on a love seat next to me, putting one of the two cups he had on the table in front of me.

He looked at me concerned, then shook it off. "I didn't know what you liked, so I just heated up some hot chocolate. You can't ever go wrong with it, in my opinion." I nodded, reaching for the cup, then putting it back down, hissing. "Sorry, I should've warned you it'd be hot."

"So," the man said after a period of silence, "you said you needed help. Why? Should I be calling the police?"

"I– um..." I looked down at my now cooled hot chocolate. "I'm Isabelle." It came out as if more of a question, and the man across from me looked at me weirdly.

"I'm Harry," he said. "I'm guessing you really did need help." I nodded. "Now, I'm also guessing you don't have much experience with males, or people in general."

I stared at Harry. "How do you know that?"

"Ah, lass," he smiled, "I didn't do three years of psychology for nothing." I squinted my eyes at him, not knowing what that was. "Are you undereducated, Isabelle?" I nodded. "Why, may I ask?"

"I– er..." I paused, not exactly knowing what do say next. Harry seemed so smart, compared to me, anyway. "I was stolen from my family when I was young. I never got the chance to attend school, actually." I looked down, not wanting to se Harry's reaction.

"Isabelle, how old are you?"

"I'm...uh..." I looked up at Harry, tears in my eyes. I shrugged. "I really don't know. I don't even know my own birthday. I'd say around nineteen, Harry."

Harry out down his cup of hot chocolate, a hand on his forehead. "I'm twenty four. I'm so old."

Notes