“Rachel, you don’t even have a cat! What was that?” I scream at her as another sound follows.
“Oh yeah, I don’t. I forgot about that.” She responds, unbothered.
“Rachel!” I yell, and I am pretty sure you can hear me from the other side of town.I really need to calm down. Everything will be fine. It’s probably nothing.This town’s criminal activity is nonexistent. There is no chance that someone broke in. It’s probably the wind.But Rachel’s behavior is a little fishy.Maybe I am not too paranoidI’m just not paranoid for the right reason.Did my insane best friend get in trouble again? Please let it be a murderer. We do not have money for a lawyer.
“You forgot you don’t have a cat.” I repeat a little more calmly this time. Because surely I heard wrong, she is not trying to convince me that everything is okay with that stupid excuse.
“Why is it so hard to believe that someone could forget that they don’t own a pet?” She tries to argue with a straight face. Now I am convinced that she has lost her mind.
“Because the last time you owned a pet, Rachel, you forgot it existed, and I had to flush the damn goldfish down the toilet because—and I quote—‘you were too sad to do it yourself,’” I remind her, and she looks at me as if I offended her. I love the woman, but she tends to be a little too unhinged for my liking. Lucky for her, I am the sane one in this friendship. And as the sane one, it’s my duty to check the damn sounds that are clearly coming from her room. To either fight a murderer or save us from legal trouble if the sound is from an animal this crazy lady has stolen.Did she steal a damn cat?
“Oh yeah, I forgot about the goldfish.”
Of course she forgot about the goldfish. That’s why we had to have a wet funeral for the poor thing. I love my best friend, I swear, but she is definitely not to be trusted with anything alive or dead, to be honest. She is not to be trusted in general. This woman has less survival skills than a house plant, and thatshould say something coming from me since I am very much useless in that department myself.
I stand, drop my precious book on the ground, and sprint for her bedroom before the crazy lady with delusions about imaginary pets can stop me. Rachel follows me as I climb the stairs two by two until I am on the floor where her room is. The exact source of those suspicious sounds.
“Listen. We can talk about this.” She tries to argue, but I ignore her. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably the wind. Let’s go back to the living room.”
She clearly has no survival instinct if she’s willing to ignore that someone has broken in. The more time passes, I am sure that’s what is happening. A cat wouldn’t make that much of a noise. I am pretty sure no animal would, unless she brought a bear in here.Are there bears in this town?There is not enough nature for one to exist here, so, probably not. We are about to die at the hands of a murderer. I am convinced! But as the man of the house... okay, not my house... but still. I should be the one to investigate this.Don’t worry, Rachel;. I will save you, or get both of us killed. Whichever comes first. Probably the latter. Fair well book club nights, and nice routine. It was nice while it lasted.
I twist the doorknob and get ready, fists in the air, eyes locked, ready to fight whoever has broken into my best friend’s house. Because that’s the type of friend I am. I will fight for you. I will kill for you....I will kill her.
The door opens all the way and reveals a man tied to a chair, in the center of the room, with a helmet on his head, sitting like a good boy waiting for the insane lady I call my best friend.
I take it back.I would rather be anywhere else right now.With anyone else. Far, far away from the woman who is clearly going to be the reason I will go to prison.I am too pretty to be someone’s bitch. This is bad. I am not going down for this.
“It’s not what you think.” Rachel starts, and I raise an eyebrow, looking at her.
She starts explaining what, in her mind, seems like a very reasonable reason to kidnap someone.It’s really not.While the golden retriever she kidnapped chimes in with his own commentary. I am sitting here with blood draining out of my body, looking at both of them, considering my whole existence. Asking questions basically on autopilot, in hopes that one of them will give me something that can get us out of this situation without a prison sentence. Because I refuse to go to prison as an accessory to a kidnapping because Rachel saw a few tutorials on fucking TikTok and decided it was a good idea to kidnap a man. Like seriously who does that? Who in their right mind will think ‘today I should kidnap a man’? This is not normal.Who the hell kidnaps a man? I am convinced my friend has lost her mind.
More time passes, and it seems I have zoned completely out, asking questions and hearing their version of “how to not get away with kidnapping” when finally my mind snaps and I realize the guy is still wearing his helmet.Why is he wearing the helmet still? That must be uncomfortable.
“Is there a reason he still wears the helmet?” I ask the deranged woman next to me as I reach for the helmet and remove it from his head.
The moment his face is revealed, my hands lose their grip, and there it goes. The helmet crashes with a loud bang on the floor, and I am frozen in my spot, looking at this man. This very attractive, yet very recognizable man. He looks like a damn neon sign. Blue hair, ink that highlights his sharp jawline and those piercing blue eyes that match his hair. I would love to know what hair dye brand he uses. This is a beautiful color.
The neon sign looks at Rachel who’s as stunned as I am, with a smirk on his face and a very flirty attitude. This man definitely is too happy to be here. Leave it to Rachel to find the right manto kidnap. If I had done this, I would be sitting in a holding cell by now. Probably with Rachel next to me, but still, the holding cell would be my fate.
“You couldn’t at least grab someone who didn’t look like a walking neon sign?” I question, but the moment the words leave my mouth, I am lost in my own thoughts again. Contemplating all the scenarios of how this will end badly. Neon sign is saying something as a sound echoes through the house, this time from downstairs.
“What the hell?” I yell as I turn to look at the open bedroom door. “Watch him.” I order Rachel, who just looks at me as if I know what’s happening.I don’t.
Once again, I sprint downstairs, ready to save my stupid best friend. So much for routine and a calm Friday night. I really should find some normal friends who don’t follow meme tutorials and kidnap people. Someone who knits or crochets or something.Definitely not someone who watches ‘how to kidnap a biker’ videos online to pass their time and then goes out and tries the damn videos as if a meme is a valid source of information.
The moment I get down the stairs that lead to the lobby of Rachel’s house, I come face to face with a blond man. A blond man who clearly just broke my friend’s door.
“Who the hell are you?”Probably a god.He sure looks like one.
Blonde hair, sharp features, tattoos that highlight his skin, and brown eyes that stare straight into my soul.
“Hello, I am Leo.” He offers me his hand, and I shake it half in shock, half planning our wedding.
No, snap out of it, Noah. You are not dating anymore, remember? Especially men who break into your friend’s house. This man is probably a criminal. Focus. Who even kicks a door down so easily? Who is he? Bruce Wayne?
“I am Noah.” I finally say after shaking his hand for what feels like eternity.
He has such soft hands. Does he use lotion? Is he single? Is he a dog or a cat person? Fuck! No! Focus!“What the hell are you doing in my friend’s house, and why did you break her door?”
