I pace.
I want to tear my hair out, and end up running my hands through it so many times I’m sure it’s standing on end and looking like shit.
Like I care. Who’s going to see me?
I’m alone. As always.
Pacing one end of my living room to the other.
My head is filled with . . . thoughts. Worried thoughts. Crazed thoughts. Lust-filled thoughts.
Wrong thoughts.
It finally comes through approximately one hundred minutes after she last left my sight. What I was waiting for.
Made it home safe and sound! Had a great time this afternoon despite the almost purse snatching. ?
The relief that floods me at seeing her text makes me weak. Makes me feel like a fucking baby. With shaking fingers I answer her.
Thanks for letting me know. I had a great time too.
I pause, my fingers hovering over the screen. I tell myself not to do it. I have no right. I’m fucking with her by doing this. Fucking with myself. I’m mental enough. Damaged enough. So is she. I don’t want to hurt her.
But I can’t let her go. Not yet. I need more.
I want to see you again.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
She doesn’t reply for so long I’m afraid I blew it. I pace again as I wait. Just about wearing a path into my living room carpet. What the hell is wrong with me? What the fuck am I doing? I run my hands through my hair yet again, gripping the strands on the back of my head and giving them a hard tug.
When my phone finally buzzes I can’t even care if I’m supposed to play it cool. I’m desperate to see what she says.
I’d like that.
The smile that stretches my mouth wide is painful. I want to laugh with relief. Collapse in triumph. I respond as coolly as I can.
I’ll call you tomorrow?
She replies without hesitation.
Okay.
I am giddy with anticipation after answering Ethan’s final text. He wants to see me.
Me.
Silly, messed-up me.
I can’t focus, can hardly think straight. That sign, KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON? I couldn’t do that if I tried.
I know what’s going on, though.
I understand.
I think.
I have a crush. A real-life, bona fide crush on a sweet, good-looking guy who I think is also interested in me. He must be if he said he wanted to see me again, right?
I can’t believe I’m so comfortable with him. It’s so unlike me. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Men make me nervous, and with good reason. I’ve been hurt too many times to trust a man who is a virtual stranger.
Ethan didn’t feel like a stranger at all. He felt like someone I’ve known for a long time. He’s comfortable—and not in a bad way. In a good, exciting way, if comfortable can even feel like that, which I think it can. I caught him watching me more than once, and every time our gazes connected, I experienced butterflies breaking free in my stomach, making my breath shuddery and my entire body quake.
Ridiculous.
Thrilling.
I toss my phone on the couch and dance around my house in my socks, my feet sliding on the hardwood floor. I almost fall but catch myself, giggling as I twirl around in a circle, making myself dizzy.
Or maybe I’m dizzy from Ethan. A man whose last name I don’t even know.
But for once I don’t care.
I just want to get to know him. Find out more.
Find out . . .
Everything.
My head hurt. My eyelids were heavy as I slowly pried them open, immediately slamming them shut with a moan when the bright sun seemed to pierce straight through my sensitive eyeballs. I lay there for a moment, trying my best to recall what happened. My body ached and the smells, the sounds, all of it was completely unfamiliar.
And then I remembered. The park. The long roller-coaster line. Going to the bathroom. The man. Dropping my sweatshirt and how friendly he was when he handed it back. Helping him find the line to a ride so he could meet his wife and children. Realizing too late that there were no wife and children. He’d lied to me.
Tricked me.
Taken me.
Tears squeezed past my tightly closed eyelids, though I hadn’t noticed them until they were already streaking down my cheeks.
Taking a deep breath, I attempted to open my eyes again, turning to the side so I wouldn’t face all of that bright sun. My head throbbed with the movement and I whimpered, unable to help myself, hoping no one would hear me.
“You’re awake.”
Fear made my throat constrict. I recognized that voice. It was him. The man who took me.
“Look at me,” he demanded when I didn’t say anything.
I turned my head toward the sound of his voice, my entire body beginning to shake. My foot shot out and I heard a noise that sounded like chains clanking against each other, felt the heavy weight around my ankle, and I knew he’d chained me up like a dog.