And what am I thinking—taking a girl I kidnapped to brunch with my parents?
5
DANI
Ineed to believe in other universes.
I need to believe there’s another world where I meet my soulmate and finally experience the kind of love I’ve only known through the pages of my romance novels.
Because I’m not just in a rut. I have completely given up. I am never finding love. I am never going to have the husband and kids and the perfect home.
But that’s okay! Because in this universe, I am creating the life of a strong independent woman.
Eventually.
Because let’s face it, living alone would be an upgrade from the developmentally stunted girl who lives at home on the wrong side of twenty-five and speed-reads crappy books to dissociate from her crazy family.
However, I was ungrateful, because in this universe I am not supposed to live alone, or have the happy family, or even live smooshed into a too-small Upper East Side condo with my annoying family.
No, in this universe I am apparently the girl who gets kidnapped off the street.
This is not like kidnapped by the duke.
Or kidnapped on a horse by the duke’s brother.
Or kidnapped by the gardener but really he’s a duke.
My kidnapper is crazy and dangerous, and I’m very scared and not turned on.
(Well, not really. But if he doesn’t like me, then I don’t like him. So there.)
I take it back. I’m not meant for love, especially not like this.
I am not the heroine. I know my place.
I’m the background character. Not NYC pretty. Not good enough for the cool girls. I’m the filler. The sidekick, the chubby friend, the floater friend.
The one who’s just on the outer circle, desperately wanting to fit in.
Guys always bypass me to talk to my pretty friends while I stand there awkwardly and laugh along at jokes at my expense.
And yeah, “awkward” definitely describes me.
I’m the weird girl who cuts her bangs and makes cringey videos. I bite my nails and can’t say no to free office food. I can’t even be one of those sad single-girl influencers because I don’t even have my own apartment.
I have my sad little life and read my little books, and I am not happy, but at least I can doomscroll social media and buy pizza somewhat whenever I want to.
Also I have access to a shower.
“Help!” I scream. I don’t know why. No one can hear me.
Well, one person can.
I bang on the door.
“Shut up!” the deep voice thunders.
I’m hyperventilating.
