Hello, hello!

This is a reworking/revamp of my story Twisted. I will no longer be writing in Twisted, but writing here instead. I have left Twisted in the archive should you choose to read it, but this story will be quite different. Enjoy and be sure to comment if you like it!

Rated T+ for language and eventual sexy times.

OOO

"Do you have any idea who just moved in upstairs?"

Clara Porter blinked her eyes open, wondering why her friend Julie was on her bed, and how often she was going to wake up in such a way.

"What?" Clara sat up, adjusting her nightdress that Julie always made fun of her for sleeping in. She blinked again, forgetting that her eyes weren't just blurry, but that she couldn't see anything with her glasses. Or contacts. Usually contacts.

But Julie had no mind for this. She sat up from the bed, flouncing about the dimly lit bedroom. They'd been in this apartment for just about a month, and Julie seemed to think that it was okay to barge into Clara's room at absolutely any hour for absolutely any reason. Sure, they'd been friends since high school, but even so…

Clara tossed over her legs, walking to her dresser and finding her glasses there. All the while Julie was talking.

"Christopher Drake moved in above us, Clar! Christopher Drake, can you believe it?"

Clara yawned, "I don't know who that is." Julie squeaked in disbelief. "But you're going to tell me?"

"Forbes '30 Under 30'?"

Clara didn't respond. She put on her glasses, looked in the mirror and found her blonde hair to be exceptionally wild this morning. She always took showers at night and always woke up to this mess. It didn't matter.

Julie sighed, "He's, like, mega-rich and super handsome."

"That's great. Which of our daughters are we marrying off to him, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Clar!"

She groaned, "Sorry, sorry. Jules, I just woke up. I will be more excited about this once I have some coffee."

OOOO

"…he's got, like, a tech empire or something," Julie explained as they sat at their small breakfast table. Julie had always been obsessed with celebrities. She knew more about the Kardashians and the Hemsworths than they probably knew about themselves. Clara was not surprised Julie was ecstatic to have a 'mini-celebrity' in the building. No doubt Julie would soon befriend him and set him up for the reality show she wanted to star in.

Clara sipped her coffee, "What's he doing in these apartments? They're nice. They're not…business mogul nice."

"Something about wanting to be near his family," Julie said with a flick of her hand.

"Are you stalking the poor guy?" Clara clicked her tongue. "You are Mrs. Bennet."

Her friend flushed, "Everyone's talking about it in the lobby."

"The lobby? You never hang out in the lobby. You are stalking him."

"I think we should meet him."

Clara guffawed, "You're literally just lining yourself up for all these Pride and Prejudice jokes." Julie said nothing. "I think that's a terrible idea. Going to meet him, I mean."

"Why?" Julie cocked her head.

"Cause…" Clara couldn't really think of a reason. She thought of hundreds. A thousand reasons why going up and talking to 30 Under 30 Christopher Drake would be absolutely the most horrifying thing to happen to anyone ever. It would be supremely awkward, for the first mark. Clara would probably say something stupid, for the second mark.

She spoke, "We're a couple of college girls living in the apartment beneath him. He's gonna think we'll throw crazy parties. He's gonna call the cops the second we get too loud, and then we'll get arrested? Do you want to get arrested, Jules?"

"For what? Watching Netflix? Legally having alcohol in the apartment?" Julie tossed back her hair. "We don't do anything, Clara. We won't be bad neighbors."

"What if he's a bad neighbor?" Clara suggested. Her friend seemed to have stopped listening, due to the fact she rolled her eyes and left the table. Clara gathered her dishes. "I mean, what if he throws crazy ragers all the time with strippers and Victoria Secret models?"

"Then I'll ask him to invite me and not you, you pain in the ass."

Clara glowered, setting her dishes in the sink. She was not sure why her stomach twisted with idea of meeting this man. Usually, she was not awful with meeting new people. People seemed to like her a lot, really, so she had no true reason to feel so trepidatious. Maybe he was super wealthy, but so was Julie and she wasn't completely awful. Not all the time. Never mind, Clara thought to herself.

"Fine," she agreed. "Let me get ready and we can go meet him."

Julie glanced, "You look fine."

"I'm in my pajamas."

"Ugh, you and your fucking night gowns. Who wears nightgowns? What year is this?"

"They're comfy," Clara protested, walking off to her bedroom. "And I can sleep in whatever the Hell I want."

Julie called after her, "Go put some clothes on. Nothing too modest, though. We'll never get invited to the stripper party if you dress like you usually do."

"Shut up, Julie."

OOO

Julie had gotten a phone call from her sister, who needed help with her car, and promised to be back in half an hour. For someone so rich and pristine, Julie knew a whole lot about her cars. She was close with her dad who kept cars as a hobby, so Julie had learned all his tricks of the trade. Her little sister, Annie, had taken more after her mom in that she partied all the time and popped in and out of Julie's life sporadically.

Clara was left alone. She'd already gotten ready so she decided that making cookies was the logical thing to do. That was a thing, right? Bring the new neighbors food? Yeah, in the like the fifties you weirdo.

Everyone likes cookies, she told herself. It's just nice. Who doesn't like chocolate chip cookies?

So she made them, feeling slightly strange about it but not supremely strange so she went along with it. Clara had made a lot of friends through bringing them food, so maybe 30 Under 30 Christopher Drake would be her friend as well. It's not like they'd see each other that much anyway. Clara was nearly always at school or work, and no doubt he had…millionaire things to do…so she wouldn't ever see him even if it was awkward. Which it probably would be. Which was fine. But not fine.

"You're baking?" Julie tossed her keys onto the table. She'd pulled back her ginger hair in to a high ponytail.

Clara shrugged, "I thought he might like some cookies." Julie raised her brow. "I'm being neighborly."

"That's good. I'm proud of you, young padawan."

"How's your sister?"

"Fine," Julie groaned. "She just doesn't seem to believe in changing her oil." Clara was about to ask another question, but it seemed Julie didn't want to talk anymore. Julie didn't really like talking about her family. "Ready to go then?"

OOO

"You know, I've never actually been up here." Clara and Julie stepped out into the foyer of the top floor. It was far grander than any of the other floors that was sure, so maybe his living here was not that odd at all. It really was a nice building. Without Julie, Clara would've never been able to afford it. But this floor…the walls were wood and polished, with paintings of sophisticated looking people on them to boot. The ceiling was white with a grand chandelier in the middle that sparkled like a thousand stars. It was like something out of a period film. Like, a high budget period film.

Julie shrugged, "It's nice."

Across the way was a door, which was white with a number one on it. Suddenly, Clara was rife with nerves again. Calm down, you lunatic woman. She clutched the cookie tray. Stupid cookies. Who bakes cookies? That's weird. This is weird. You should leave. Clara told her nerves to shut up as Julie nocked on the door.

When it opened, Clara couldn't breathe. It was not just because the man standing in front of her was ungodly handsome because, god, he was ungodly handsome. Or that he looked exactly like how she thought a man should look: tall, strong, with dark, dark hair. Or even that he was staring at her in some very strange way. It was that she knew him. God, she knew him and knew him well but hadn't the faintest idea how. Like an actor from a movie you can't quite place, but far more real than that. Her mind reeled for a connection, but she knew she did not know him. She could not know him. Clara had never met 30 Under 30 Christopher Drake, but why did it feel like she'd known him all her life? Which didn't make any sense. Surely, he just looked like someone else she knew. Someone she'd dreamed of. Why was he so familiar?

Clara broke the spell, "HI!" That was far too loud. Why the fuck am I screaming at him? "Uh, hi. I'm, um, Clara Porter and this is my friend Julie McLane. We live in the apartment below you and thought we would say hi. Which I just did. Three times now."

Julie looked at her friend like she'd just had a stroke. Clara was not at all certain she hadn't.

30 Under 30 Christopher Drake gave a smile like Clara expected 30 Under 30 Christopher Drake would give. It was charming but smirky and hit her in the chest in a way she really didn't want it to hit her in the chest. Clara was not a fan of any sort of man having an effect on her. She thought herself quite immune to them until this moment.

But she knew him. Which she didn't. God, this is insane. I am completely insane.

"We brought cookies," Julie said in what Clara knew was her flirtation voice. When you're friends with someone for so long, you know their alternate personalities. Flirtation was a very prominent one for Julie.

Is he staring at me? Clara couldn't tell. It felt like he was, but maybe she was staring at him. She couldn't imagine she'd be of much interest… You're very pretty, Clara, she told herself. And yeah, she knew that, but she didn't have much…appeal. Not like Julie did. Not any sexual appeal. Hell, she'd just actually screamed at a man she found attractive so that about summed it all up. Clara was not very experienced in the male department. Not at all experienced. Not even, like, handholding. Twenty-one and still never kissed. A pathetic story, really, but sadly true.

So Christopher Drake was not staring at her. Christopher Drake was a successful business mogul and not attracted to twenty one year old never been kissed Clara Porter. And she certainly didn't know him.

Breathe. Be logical.

Get a grip, you fucking Mary Sue, and talk.

The man spoke, "It's good to meet you both. I haven't met too many of the people in the building."

"We're the only cool ones," Clara joked. A fun thing she did when she felt uncomfortable. He laughed, at least. Maybe a pity laugh. Probably a pity laugh. Definitely a pity laugh. "So we just wanted to say hi and bring you some baked goods." Clara out her arms and found his hands to be quite cold as she handed him the tray. Silence. "Well, not that we have fulfilled our neighborly duty, we'll leave you alone."

"Please stay," he said almost immediately. He was certainly staring at her now. Yes, they locked eyes for a very long moment yet Clara did not feel uncomfortable. I know you, her mind kept saying yet she could not figure out the why. It seemed she had all the facts and none of the figures. She knew him. God, she knew him.

"My apartment's a bit of a mess at the moment," he began, all the while staring at her. "But I can offer you some coffee or tea if you'd like."

"That sounds great," Julie responded in a strained tone. To be completely honest, Clara had forgotten her friend was there at all. Christopher Drake blinked, his eyes turning over to Julie. It seems he'd forgotten as well. It made a small smile grow on Clara's lips and she was not sure why.

The followed the man into his apartment, which was odd because that's something Clara would never do. Clara would never be okay with going into the apartment of someone she didn't know, let alone a handsome business mogul man. It didn't seem strange, which made it all the more strange. The room was absolutely stunning though. Julie and Clara's apartment was nice, but this was entirely different and not at all what she was expecting. Millionaires in movies always had bright open apartments with large windows and white floors, but this was not like that. It was large and open, yes, but with rich wood and old world decorations. He took them to a room lined with bookshelves and Mina was certain then that she was dreaming.

She had to be dreaming. This man could not be real. This handsome and strange man with a library in his apartment. God, had she made him up in her mind? There had to be something wrong with him. It was like everything she'd ever wanted all wrapped up in one person. He doesn't like you, Clara, he's just being neighborly. Then what was all that staring? And what was this strange feeling she could not shake? You're being absolutely ridiculous. This isn't a story. This isn't a movie or a book, so just calm the fuck down, you overly dramatic creature.

Clara sat next to Julie on a small couch. 30 Under 30 Christopher Drake had left the room. He might've asked what they wanted and Clara might have answered but she was too distracted to remember. His room was certainly not a mess. There were boxes, yes, but he'd already put some books up on the shelves. It was absolutely perfect…and it too strangely familiar. If only she could-

"What sort of magical Disney Princess fairy vagina nonsense are you working on this guy right now?"

Clara blinked, "That was lot of words and half of them didn't make any sense."

Julie gaped, "The dude is in love with you! You've known him for two seconds and he is high key in love with you!"

"That's ridiculous, Jules." Clara leaned back, looking to the ceiling and seeing it too had a chandelier. God, maybe she did make this whole thing up in her head. "He has parties with strippers and models, remember? Not dorky, poor English majors."

"Don't you talk bad about yourself, I'll hit you." Julie said sternly. Julie said that often. "One: you're fucking great and Christopher Drake would be super lucky to have you. Two: he did not stop staring at you from the second you opened that door. He's probably hiding behind the bookcase staring at you now."

"That's creepy."

"He loves you."

Clara flushed, "Shut up. People don't fall in love at first sight. This isn't a musical. Maybe he's just a serial killer and wants me dead."

"That's still a musical."

"Ha, ha. You know I-"

The possible serial killer in question re-entered the room at that moment with a small silver tray that he set upon the coffee table. Julie grabbed a tea that she must've requested and Clara a coffee, though she did not remember placing the order. Peculiar still was that he'd brought cream and two sugars, exactly how she took it. You probably told him and just blanked it out. Calm down, you fucking lunatic.

"So what brings you to Ohio, of all glamorous places?" For a girl who'd just told her best friend that Christopher Drake was in love with her, Julie was certainly still doing a lot of flirting.

He spoke, "I wanted to be nearer to my family. To reconnect." Clara was certainly crazy, but he seemed to glance at her. She tried her best to look normal. What does my face normally look like? "My job doesn't really require me to be in one particular place."

"What is your job?" Clara inquired, gaining a daggered look from Julie. "I know, I should probably know who you are, but I'm really not up on pop culture as much as I should be. Which, you know, for being an English Major is probably not great. But I'm studying Brit Lit so everyone I know about is dead."

Why do I talk? Why do I say words out loud?

And why was his gaze so very intense? If he just thought she was crazy, he would not be staring at her like that. It was like he was trying to break into her mind. Maybe it was something they taught you at the School of Being Incredibly Good Looking and Intelligent.

"Software development," He explained with his intense gaze. "A lot of computer memory fixing programs as well."

Julie butted in, "You're the most successful person in your field for your age!" His gazed switched to her then and it seemed somehow colder. "I read your article."

"I did not," Clara took a sip of her coffee. It was really good coffee too. Damn him. Damn him and his perfect face and perfect apartment and stupid fucking perfect coffee. "How old are you?" Julie made a noise. "That was probably rude. I'm sorry. This is why I don't go out often."

Back at it again with the bad jokes, Clar.

He did laugh. "I'm 29, Miss Porter. Though some days it feels like I'm 500." That was a weird thing to say, but she let it slide. She was more fixated on the 'Miss Porter.' That was so fancy. Just like Jane Austen of Bronte…this couldn't actually be happening.

He started again, "So you two are at university, I presume?"

The afternoon went on like that for quite some time. Idle small talk that all seemed layered in something Clara could not name. That strange gaze of his too: like he too felt this weird connection. Which was absolutely bonkers to think. It sounded like something from a really bad romance novel. Other than that it all seemed rather normal. He really wasn't stuck up nor smarmy and Julie eventually stopped trying to flirt with him. Towards the end, Clara had made a comment about his library and he told her that she could use it anytime he wanted. That gained a look from Julie that Clara blatantly ignored.

The time was gone quite quickly, and Clara found herself needing to get ready to go to work for the night. He asked where she worked and she told him she was a server at a little restaurant called Joe's, though she doubted she'd ever see him there. Not really a place for a millionaire business mogul, she assumed.

When they left, he shook their hands in a business like way and then they were back in the foyer. Clara took a deep breath and realized she had not really been breathing very well while they were there. Julie seemed like she wanted to say something but Clara hissed at her to wait until they were in the elevator. The second the door closed, her friend let out a squeal at so high a frequency Clara was surprised the lights did not burst.

"He invited you to his apartment to use his library and I almost died."

Clara rolled her eyes, "He's just being nice."

"Oh shut up, Clar. He's so into you." Julie leaned back against the wall. She swiveled her hips proactively. "Use his library…"

"Yep, by his library he meant his penis. You cracked the code, Sherlock."

"I always knew you'd end up with an older man."

"Shut up, you weirdo."

The doors opened and standing right outside them was an old man with a sagging face and a lazy eye. Eugene Renfield. He lived on the second floor but took it as his personal business to roam the building and say cryptic things to everyone. He was harmless. His family had put him here instead of a home and a nurse came twice a day for him. All other times he was found in the hall, yelling strange things as you walked past. Never harassing things, just odd things. Words not really about anything at all.

He always gave Clara the chills, though.

"Mr. Renfield," Clara nodded with a small smile. He waited for her and Julie to step out of the elevator. Julie smiled politely as well, holding the door open for the old man.

He spoke, "He's come back, you know." Clara nodded and smiled. Renfield's sons had often apologized for their father's behavior. He thinks it's a different year, you know. So just nod and humor him. He means no harm, really, he's just confused. This building it good for him. The old style…it's what he remembers.

The man stepped into the elevator, a decided look coming over his old face. He met Clara's eyes straight on.

"He's come back, Miss. Murray. Back for you. So you better be careful."

The doors shut before she could react.

"That was creepy," Julie noted.

Clara nodded.

Julie sighed, "Poor, confused little man. It's sad, really."

Clara nodded, her mind suddenly reeling. Miss Murray. Miss Murray. Why did it not feel odd to be called Miss Murray? Like some distant friend, a girl from a dream. Miss Murray… You're being insane. Clara turned her back to the elevator, following her friend to their room. You are going to get ready. You are going to go to work. You are going to wake up tomorrow and go to class and nothing will be different. You're just exhausted or hungry or something. There is no Miss Murray. You don't know Christopher Drake. Your life is very, very normal, so don't make it something it's not.

Back in her room, Clara took her uniform from the closet and slid it on. Normal. Yes. Everything was normal. Her eyes moved to her ceiling, as though she and Christopher Drake were connected through it. Which, of course, was ridiculous.

Miss Murray, she thought dreamily. He's come back for you. Her eyes looked back to the mirror.

"Nonsense."