Claire. Is. Freaking. Out.
Claire. Is. At. The. Bookstore.
Which means Claire is not sitting across from me, eating her Mount Everest-sized pancake tower.
My stomach sinks to the bottom of my feet. I can feel the color drain from my face. My mind replays the day. All I can focus on is the impending flashing red and blue lights heading toward the dinner, handcuffs digging into my wrists, and the potential of meeting my cellmate named Bubble.
“Dude, are you listening?” Eli’s voice brings me back to the present. “I’m going to take Jake with me and meet Claire on Main Street. Her parents are joining so we can do a search of the area.”
“Okay,” my voice is husky, “I will meet you there.” I hear rustling in the background. He must be leashing Jake to leave the house.
I hang up the phone, blinking at the girl across from me, my mouth dry, no words coming to my mind. How do I even begin to explain to this girl—who is not Claire, not Eli’s girlfriend—a complete stranger, that I was kidnapping her for an immersive role play?
For a moment, the realization of her not being Eli’s girlfriend hits me, quick and sharp. Thank god I haven’t been lusting after my best friend’s girlfriend. That thought vanishes just as fast, replaced by something far worse—dread. Pure, bone-deep dread. Because now? Now Iama kidnapper.
Yup, straight to jail.
17
Charlie
If you had told me this morning I would be sitting at Maple Diner with my captor, enjoying our breakfast date, I would have told you you were crazy. Our conversation has been flowing non-stop. I’ve learned that he has a sister, a dog named Jake, shares the same favorite movie as me, is a fan of all holiday-flavored drinks, and a closet cinnamon roll. That last one is more of an observation than something he shared.
Our conversation ends abruptly when his phone vibrates. Pretending not to eavesdrop, I continue cutting into my pancake tower, dragging the fluffy piece through a puddle of maple syrup. The butter melts across my tongue, soft and sweet with just the right hint of salt. I know it’s weird, but I don’t like my pancakes drowned in syrup—they get too soggy. I’d rather dip as I go, controlling the texture of each bite.
Sensing his eyes on me, I glance up. He stops talking mid-sentence, his face pale and his eyebrows furrowing. My internal panic meter spikes, alarms blaring, reminding me this is not a first date but in fact a kidnapping. Fully aware I am over analyzing his expression, but I can’t help the rising panic. What’s with that look? Did someone just tell him I’m no longer useful? Is it time toget ridof me?
I break eye contact, darting a glance around the diner, desperate for the waitress, or Dee Dee, to swoop in and save me. My hand won’t stop trembling, so I shove it under my thigh, pressing it hard against the sticky vinyl seat to keep it still. My pulse is in my throat, each beat louder than the clink of silverware and hum of conversation around us. I need to get the hell out of here.Now.
Before I can move, he leans forward, voice low. “I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand through his curls. His voice entrances me for a second before it seeps in. Did he just apologize? For kidnapping me?
“I didn’t… It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he continues, words tumbling out before he can form a full sentence. His eyes are guilty, almost haunted, and my stomach drops. What the hell does that even mean?Wasn’t supposed to be me?
My pulse spikes, my hands trembling under the table. I don’t know what’s happening, and honestly, I don’t think I want to. I just want to get out of here and back to my sister.
My eyes dart around the diner, desperate for someone to meet my gaze. To save me from whatever this is. The waitress passes by without so much as a glance, the couple in the corner too wrapped up in their breakfast to notice the girl silently pleading for help.
I could slide out of this booth so easily. Just stand up, walk away. I should’ve done it the second I realized he wasn’t going to stop me. But instead, here I am—caught in his gravity. The kind of pull that shouldn’t exist between captor and captive. All because he had the audacity to be nice and sound like my favorite audio book narrator.
His next sentence cuts clean through the chaos in my head, quieting every frantic thought in an instant.
“God, Eli and his stupid ideas,” he mutters under his breath.
My thoughts stutter and rewind. Did he just say Eli?
I stare at him, unblinking, heart hammering so loud I’m sure he can hear it. “Wait, did you just say Eli?” My voice comes out shakier than intended.
His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking like a warning, and he doesn’t answer. Silence stretches between us, and every second makes my pulse spike higher.
“As in my sister’s boyfriend, Eli?” I force the words out, my chest tightening with a mix of fury and disbelief.
Claire may be older by technicality, and she acts like the responsible older sister sometimes, but when it comes to her safety? I’m a mama bear. If this guy knows Eli, I need to get Claire away from them. I thought I had vetted Eli thoroughly, cross-checked every social profile, and dug into every little detail. Apparently, I missed something.
I remember the first time Claire told me she was going on a date with a guy she met at the charity flag football fundraiser. I’d spent all of five minutes listening before my brain kicked into full detective mode. Social media profiles, Linked In pages, old news articles, even a few random mentions on hospital forums—I knew everything. The FBI had nothing on me.
When Eli came to pick Claire up for their date, I went into full 007 mode. While she was finishing up getting ready, I cornered him in the living room—or, well, more like subtly interrogated him without looking suspicious. By the time Claire came out of her room, I already had a mental file on him—hometown, family, his favorite coffee.
My captor is staring at me, trying to assess what I know, at the same time I’m trying to assess him.
