Disclaimer: This story is purely for entertainment purposes. It is not in anyway a biography of Andrej Pejic. Also, I am a science student and am not taking a literature course so please excuse any grammar mistakes and any amount of corniness.


Part I

Dark grey clouds loomed across the sky and lightning thundered threateningly down the city of Melbourne. Really. Trust Melbourne to have random unreported thunderstorms, not that I follow the news to know anyway. Without an umbrella, I pulled my hoodie over the top of my blond head and made a break for the train station before it starts to pour. I really didn't need this today; having no time to eat anything since a cup of coffee early this morning had me cranky and absolutely exhausted. On top of that, my mum and Baba were still in Serbia visiting relatives so I'll probably have canned food for dinner. That is if my brother Igor decides to bring home leftovers from his date.

I sat down in one corner of the bench to wait for my train when my mobile started to sing Lady Gaga's Bad Romance.

"Hello," I answered irritably.

"Andrej!" David Chiang exclaimed excitedly. "I flew over to Melbourne for you so baby, you gotta take me out tonight!"

"How about tomorrow instead?" I smiled, crossing my legs. "I'm completely wiped out right now. You should be too actually."

"What?"

"Jet lag?"

"Oh yeah, I gave myself a shot of red bull before. I'm so pumped right now!" I could literally hear him jumping around on the spot. Laughing, I told him I'd see him after I clean myself up. It's always been so hard to say no to him.

I shoved my phone in my pants and climbed onto the train once it came to a stop. Quickly scanning around for a window seat, I planted myself down and began a staring contest with the outside world as it spun past. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man staggered up and fell down next to me. A rush of alcohol contaminated air filled my nostrils. Really now, drunk at six o'clock? Either this man has been drinking since four or his alcohol tolerance was incredibly low. I kept my eyes out the window, ignoring the drunken man as best as I could.

"Hey," he slurred, his voice deep and perverted. Okay, maybe not perverted but it didn't stop him from sounding grossly seedy.

"I said 'hey'," he pressed. I tried to make myself as small as possible and as if he was a Chinese zombie, I held my breath, as if he would be able to detect me if I breathed. As well as for the reeking smell that's giving me major headache.

He grabbed my shoulder and forcibly made me face him, his nose flaring. "You think you're too pretty for me or something, girl?"

I flinched, not at all liking his sausage fingers squeezing around my arms. Too freaked out to talk, I looked around the train for a hero to save me. Not that I couldn't hold my own but if I were to punch him I was pretty sure I'd break my hand on his thick red face.

"Look at me!" he demanded.

I complied. I looked at him and my eyes widened at the spitting image of Quasimodo. One bulging eye compared to the normal one coupled with a hunchback that was large enough to house a family of rats. He was dressed in a wrinkled brown business suit with his tie loosened down to his chest. A clown patterned yellow tie. No wonder he was drinking. I tried to shrug his hand off me but that only made him tighten his grip. Damn it. Where were all of the damn security guards? And why did the 'help' button have to be all the way over at the door? There were other reasons passengers would ask for help other than being stuck between the closing doors.

"Er… Look mister, I don't want any trouble here…" I trailed off when he lunged forward at my face. Thank God for adrenalin, even in my malnourished form my reflexes were still fast, enabling me to dodge him. My head ended up between my knees and Quasimodo smashed his forehead against the window, his entire body fell onto my bent back, pushing the air out of me.

Eventually a security guard came along and hustled the man away from me. I sighed a sigh of relief and noticed a girl sitting by the door smiling at me. I smiled back and stood up to go sit next to her.

"Your welcome," she said to me.

"Thank you for your help…" I fished for her name.

"Danielle Rand," she introduced herself, holding out a hand.

I took it. "Andrej Pejic."

"I know," she smiled wider. "You're the model. God, you're more beautiful in person."

I flushed at flattery. "You're beautiful yourself Danielle. Listen, I'm getting off soon so please give me your number so I can thank you properly."

She gasped at her luck and quickly scrambled through her bag for a pen to scribble her number down on my palm. I gave her hand a quick kiss and bid her good bye before I hopped off the train. I immediately smelt and heard the rain thundering on top of the subway. Lovely.

With my hands in my pockets and hoodie up, I jogged home. A whiff of smoke reached me. I looked up and saw it in the distance; a fire was roaring, fighting for existence against the hard rain. My stomach plummeted and began to sprint towards it. Please oh please don't let it be my house, I chanted over and over. We still haven't paid off the mortgage! And the house has no fucking insurance!

I reached the gate and saw, to my dismay, orange flames spitting out the second floor. Oh God. I wanted to cry. My clothes, my shoes…everything was gone. Mum is going to massacre me. Wait... The second floor? Why the second floor? The kitchen was downstairs. What could've caught fire on the second floor?

I was suddenly pulled backwards by my hoodie and slammed onto the ground with a grunt. A massive man walked over me with his bright yellow fireman uniform and went toward the red truck.

"Don't stand too close to the fire," he instructed, his voice deep and growling. I lied on the asphalt road and tried to get myself together. I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated to keep myself from hyperventilating, listening to the heavy stomping of the fireman's boots and the gushing of water over the roaring flames. Igor. Call Igor was all I could think of. I scrambled to stand up and wrestled my pants for my mobile.

"Y'ello?" Igor answered, too nonchalantly.

"IGOR! THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!" I screamed over the top of the noise of the fire, rain and hose.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed. "Are you inside? Stay close to the ground and get a wet towel to breathe in…"

"I'm outside. I just got home, so can you get here quickly?" I yelled urgently. "Mum is going to kill us!"

"Fuck!" he cursed. "What are the chances of a fire in this rain? I'm coming home now so stay where you are. You got an umbrella?"

"Umbrella? Have you totally lost your mind? Rethink your priorities Igor!" I hung up and watched the fire slowly get flushed out by the impressively powerful hose. I ran my hands through my hair and tried to keep calm until Igor got here to take over control so that I could lose it.

The fire finally sizzled out and the fireman from before walked back up to me. I noticed a few of the firemen evacuated from my house, shaking their heads as they held my curling iron in their hands. I froze. Fuck me.

"Hey, you all right?" the fireman asked gruffly his wide callused hand ruffled the top of my head.

I stared at my GHD, in a complete trance. I could just hear the dreaded responsibility speech multiplied by three, mum, Baba and Igor. My shoulders slumped at that thought. This was just not my day.

"Where's your family kid?" the fireman asked again, his hand gripped my hair and tilted my head back to look at him. I gasped when my eyes caught sight of him. Thick brown hair peaked out from underneath his yellow helmet. His deep hazel eyes looked down at me over his sharp straight nose. Rough stubble covered his angular jaw. And his shoulders! So broad, and muscular, I could probably sit on one side without a butt cheek slipping off it.

I blinked a couple of times. This wasn't the time to be admiring a man's beauty.

"Uh, my brother's coming. He'll be here a few," I answered.

The hot fireman let go of me when his colleague joined him. He held out the murder weapon to me and grimaced. It was completely burnt and ruined. It was impossible to know that it was once my GHD.

"Someone left this on," his colleague told me. "Nobody's inside and only possessions were destroyed. The rooms are just slightly burnt so you can probably fix it up easily." He looked at me up and down and added, "or you might want to hire somebody."

I scowled and took the GHD from him and thanked him. Despite being six feet tall, I was so dainty thin that I looked as if I would break from just a strong gust of wind. My feminine face constantly got me mistaken as a woman, which actually got me a gig at a modelling agency. I don't mind when people mistaken me as a girl, just being treated as if I'm fragile was what usually gets my panties in a knot.

"Holy fucking shit!" I heard my brother curse at me, pointing to my GHD in my hands. All three of us turned around to see him standing by his open car door. "Your fucking hair straightener!"