He can’t be older than me, though. He has curly dark brown hair giving amber reflections under the light. Brown, puppy-like eyes and a mischievous smile. His neck is partly covered by tattoos, getting lost under his black T-shirt and reappearing again on both hands, covering his skin all the way to his fingertips.
He’s big. Way too solid to feel comforting.
“No really, move.” His expression gets a bit more serious but his face is still somehow nice?
He’s got that cocky, too-sure-of-himself vibe.
I finally wake up from my trance and quickly step back—I don’t know how many steps it takes before my ass hits the wooden table in the middle of the room right in front of the sofa. He chuckles as I flinch at the impact from hitting my ass on the hard wooden edge.
“Am I being funny?” I spit out maybe too aggressively.
“A little,” he says, unbothered, and puts his hand in his pocket, his other hand holding a glass of cloudy water.
He notices where my eyes land and tips the glass toward me, then puts it on the small table next to the door, not breaking eye contact with me.
“Hangover pill. It’s already dissolved in the water,” he says, looking at it, then right back at me. “Drink.”
He slides his other hand into his pocket as well and waits.
I stare at him, my expression getting confused and utterly furious.
“Fuck you!”
God, I was just kidnapped, why am I being so… me?
I should shut up.
His smile spreads to the sides. He’s really enjoying this.
“You drugged me!” I yell at him.
I can’t help myself. I keep being rude to my kidnapper.
Such a good idea, Kiara.
“No,” he points his index finger at me. “That wasn’t me,” he says with a serious tone.
What the hell?
I edge sideways, gripping the table behind me for support, never taking my eyes off him. I just need distance. He stands there, also not breaking eye contact with me. Suddenly he lets out a breath, kind of like he just realized something and decided he doesn’t want to play with me anymore.
“Okay, I’m sorry, of course you don’t want to drink it. Wait.”
He spins around and heads out the door. I’m confused and frozen for a second, then I rush after him, but it’s locked.
Shit. It probably only opens from the other side, meaning I’m definitely a prisoner now.
I take a quick look around the room, looking for another exit, just as he crashes back through the door, and this time he holds a bottle of water and a packed, unopened hangover pill.
I look at him with fury and confusion as he just holds it in front of him.
“It’s packed,” he explains, as if I was stupid. “You don’t have to worry that it’s roofied,” he says with a small smile this time.
Who the hell is this? He really doesn’t look like a dangerous person.
“You kidnapped me,” I blurt out.
I snap the water from his hand, ignoring the pill and stepping far away from him. I’m not risking anything. He just stares at me and I can’t make out his expression.
