Captured Heart

3. Aleksandras

S o, my solid plan isn’t so solid. It’s reliant on multiple unpredictable components, all coming together seamlessly by sheer luck and whimsical happenstance. I’m methodical to the point of obsession. Every step is calculated, every angle covered, so I feel a bit out of my element because I’m just straight winging it with this one. Given that this kind of job isn’t something I’ve done before, it’s the best I could come up with on such short notice.

And what makes everything even more uncertain is the fact that I’ve decided to lay the full weight of this not-so-solid plan on the shoulders of that guy right there.

Yes, I’ve put all my faith and future freedom into the hands of the dorky, scrawny redhead talking to Katelyn right now. I’ve been following her all morning, and he seems to be the only person she actually talks to for more than two minutes. They must be study buddies or something because I followed them from their last class to the library, and they’ve been brainstorming ideas for some chemistry project for almost three hours now.

The snippets of whispered conversations I’ve heard so far sound like indecipherable gibberish, but I’ve been sitting here patiently, staring at the back of their heads, waiting for the moment I can get this guy alone. It’s already late afternoon, and I’m bored out of my mind, battling to stay awake. It’s relatively quiet in here, just the soft hum of murmurs and the occasional rustle of pages turning, so it’s very easy to fall asleep.

A breath of life fills my lungs when dorky dude finally stands up. “Okay, so you’re gonna do the literature review and the hypothesis formation, I’ll help you with the experimental design, but I’ll do the full data analysis once we’ve collected all the data from our experiments.”

I catch a glimpse of her side profile when she looks up at him with a smile. “Sounds like a plan,” she replies. “See you tomorrow, Corey.”

I wait for her to pack her books away and keep my head down as she passes. As soon as she exits the library, I get up to go after dorky dude. I double my steps to catch up to him, passing rows upon rows of bookshelves, then slow down when I’m right behind him. This guy has no gut instincts, no sense of self-preservation because I’m basically breathing down his neck and he doesn’t even turn around.

I grab his backpack and yank him between two bookshelves. He lets out a small yelp when I shove him up against one of them.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whisper-shouts. He reaches into his back pocket and frantically chucks his wallet at me. It hits my cheek before it falls and lands at my feet. “Take my money. Take all of it. There’s only sixteen dollars in there, but there’s a coupon for a free smoothie. Just take it all.”

I realize then that I just used the only communication skill I picked up while working for Victor. It’s a simple three-part process. Demand. Intimidate. And if neither gets me the information I require, the last resort is forceful extraction. That was standard practice during any job. The same tactic also worked surprisingly well in prison whenever I needed anything.

But that approach may be a tad too aggressive for people out in the real world. Dorky dude is scared shitless. Not the first impression I wanted to make to the guy who holds the key to executing my plan.

“Yo, cool it,” I say, my voice even and calm. “No need to make a scene.” I sort of straighten out his shirt as a gesture to show I mean no harm, then bend to pick up his wallet. “I’m not trying to rob you.”

“You’re not?” He carefully takes his wallet from my hand. “You look...you know...I mean...you kinda look like someone...who would.”

“I do?”

Victor gave me money to get myself cleaned up, and I bought some decent T-shirts and a new pair of jeans, but this new look isn’t fooling anyone because I clearly still look like a criminal.

He must hear something in my voice that makes him pause before he answers me. “No. Of course not. I didn’t mean that...the way it came out. You look like a wholesome...standup guy. Boy next door, you know. The way your buzz cut complements the array of tattoos going down your arm is just so... not intimidating...at all. You look like the kinda guy who’s gonna let me go without hurting me.”

He shifts slightly to the side and slowly inches backward. I gotta hand it to him. That’s a commendable tactic. He may just have some survival instincts after all.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere.”

His panic immediately returns. “Okay, what do you want from me?”

“Katelyn Akiyama. Tell me everything you know about her.”

His eyebrows crease, his eyes narrowing into a scrutinizing stare. “Why do you wanna know?”

When I was meticulously crafting this not-so-solid plan last night, it never occurred to me to think of a reason why I would be going around asking questions about her. Once again, this is a hindrance created by my past because I’m used to just asking for things and then...getting them. I never needed to finesse information out of anyone. They either told me what I needed to know, or I beat the shit out of them. It was an easy exchange. This, however, is a bit of a snag.

“I’m asking because...” I fumble, trying to think of a plausible reason. “See, the thing is...I just wanted to find out more about her because...because...”

“Oh, I get it.” He gives a knowing nod. “You like her, don’t you?”

Genius. Why didn’t I think of that? “Yeah, that’s it.” I grab onto this lie with both hands and run with it. “I saw her, and I wanted to go up to her and ask her out for...coffee, but I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend...or anything about her, really, so I thought I’d ask you.”

“Well, there’s a whole story there.” He taps my shoulder to urge me into motion. “But I’m starving, so let’s grab some burritos, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

We exit the library and the only information I offer up about myself is the name John. We make small talk as we walk to one of the campus eateries. He’s nice enough to buy me a burrito, but he doesn’t stop to actually sit down somewhere and eat it. Instead, he keeps walking as he chomps his food, and I just blindly follow, waiting for him to give me what I asked him for.

We’re passing a section of the campus called Memorial Glade when he finally starts talking about her. “So, Katelyn is single, but she isn’t interested in dating anyone at the moment. She was in a relationship with this guy, Jason. He’s some hotshot on the football team, but I don’t watch sports, so I don’t know what all the hype is about. They were together for almost our entire freshman year, but during summer break last year, she caught him naked in the hot tub with two cheerleaders.”

Fuck, this is not the information I need. I need an in. What does she like? Where does she hang out? Which days does she have classes, so I know exactly when she’s home and when she’s not? But he’s just droning on about irrelevant shit.

I just want him to get to the point, but I’m in this lie now, and I have to pretend like I actually care. “No. How could he do that to her? What a jerk.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He nods slowly, barely taking note of the disinterest in my tone. “She was devastated. Cried for weeks. Swore off men after that. She said she’s going to focus on her studies and only think about dating again after we graduate. Sorry, John, but you’re shit out of luck there.”

He says it with finality, as if that’s the end of the conversation, but I didn’t waste half an hour talking to him just to get that . “I’d still like to get to know her, though. Maybe we could be friends. Do you know where she likes to hang out?”

“We study a lot, so she’s always at the library, but other than that, I don’t know. We’re not in the same social circles. Guys like me generally don’t get invited, nor do we attend the wild frat parties.”

I finish my burrito and toss the wrapper in a nearby trashcan. “And she does?”

“She used to when she was dating Jason. Not sure if she still goes now.”

This guy’s about as useful as a handbrake on a canoe. I need to be more direct with my questions or I’m not going to get anything. “Do you maybe have a class schedule or something?” The questioning look on his face doesn’t escape me. “I just want to see which days she’s free. Who knows? Maybe she’ll at least agree to have a coffee with me.”

“Um...I may be able to do one better,” he says, taking his phone out of his pocket. “She shares her calendar with me. We’re doing a research paper together. We’re investigating how certain enzymes regulate cellular communication. It’s pretty cool. Our aim is to understand how protein kinases regulate various cell signaling pathways, particularly in cancer cells, and—”

He abruptly stops speaking when I grab both his shoulders and give him a firm shake. “Focus.”

“Oh, yeah. Let me pull this up.” He taps a few icons on his screen, then gasps. “John!”

“What?” I have no idea why he’s so panicked all of a sudden. “What?”

“You’re standing on a seal.”

More gasps of horror burst from the students around us, many of them stopping dead in their tracks to stare at me. I can’t figure out what the big deal is. “So?”

“So?” My indifference agitates him more. “Do you not understand what will become of you? Legend has it that if you step on any of the seals here at UC Berkeley, you’ll ruin your chances of ever getting a 4.0 GPA.”

I think back on Victor’s words, and for the life of me, I can’t understand how he thought I could ever blend in with these people. “Damn, I guess my academic fate now rides on this very believable urban legend.” I ignore his scoff and step off the seal to get him to focus on the task again. “You were giving me Katelyn’s schedule, remember?”

Though still a little traumatized, his eyes move back to his phone. “Oh, it looks like she’s going to the gym later today.”

“Which gym? What time?”

“Um...let me see...”

My patience has disappeared at this point, so I grab the phone from his hand. My eyes skim over the details, and I make a mental note of where she’s going to be over the next few days. “Thanks a lot, Corey.”

“No problem.”

I hand his phone back, and I’m about to walk away when I realize it would be easier and less awkward if I use Corey to get to Katelyn. “Hey, can I ask a favor? Do you mind meeting me at the gym later and introducing me to Katelyn? I’m not really good at talking to girls, and I’m scared I might blow it.”

He chuckles. “You don’t have a chance either way. I’m telling you, dude, she’s not interested. About seven or eight guys have asked her out since she broke up with Jason and her answer is always no.”

“I’m not going to ask her out. I told you...I’m hoping we can...just be friends.”

“Yeah, right.” He half laughs, half snorts. “But your desperation is very evident and kinda off-putting, so I think having me there as a wingman might do you good.”

“Thanks, Corey. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send you a pin location for the gym. Meet me there at five.”

We exchange numbers before he walks off, and I feel pretty proud of myself. I didn’t devise the greatest plan, but it seems to be working out just fine so far.

I TAKE COREY’S FIRST impression of me into account when I change into some gym clothes. A long-sleeve snug-fitting sweatshirt to hide my tattoos and a cap back-to-front to cover the buzz cut. It’s about all I can do to make me look less like a convict.

The university pass Victor gave me allows me access to the campus gym, and I find Corey closer to the back, bench-pressing with some other dude standing behind him.

“Hey, Corey,” I say as I approach them.

He glances at me, hissing out a breath as he struggles to lift the bar and hook back onto the handles. “And...thirty.”

“That was only two, dude,” the other guy says.

Corey lets out a huff and stands up. “ Thirty ...two.”

His friend opens his mouth to argue but shuts it when Corey shoots him a look.

“John, this is my friend Zayn Patel. Zayn, John.” He gives us a moment to shake hands, then turns his attention to Zayn. “John’s a little sweet on Katelyn. He has trouble talking to the ladies, so...” He shrugs as if he was just given the Player of the Year Award . “...of course, he asked for my help.”

He says it with the confidence of a guy who didn’t damn near piss himself when I cornered him in the library earlier. I say nothing about it, and after shaking Zayn’s hand and making idle chit-chat for a minute or two, Zayn offers to spot me. We do a set of twelve each, and I try to show Corey how to keep his form right without throwing his back out. I’m just about to sit on the bench for my next set when I spot her walking into the gym.

She’s easy to notice, not because she’s loud or flashy. In fact, the long gray gym tights and loose-fitting white T-shirt aren’t the type of clothes anyone would wear to garner attention. Yet somehow, she has all of mine.

I’ve been hit a good few times in my life, so I know how it feels to take a punch. But I gotta say, seeing her in person knocks the fucking wind out of me. Her picture didn’t do her any justice. Not even close.

She moves with this subtle confidence that makes it seem like she’s gliding through the room. Her hair is neatly tied back in a ponytail, a few loose tendrils hanging around her face. Dark, thick lashes frame her almond-colored eyes. They hold a quiet intelligence...and warmth. I recognize that almost immediately because warmth is something I haven’t seen or felt since my mom died.

It’s weird. There’s nothing specific about her that makes her stand out, so I don’t understand why I can’t take my eyes off her. Maybe it’s her simplicity that I find so captivating. I’ve lived a hard life. It’s been wild and unpredictable. Complicated. And that simplicity appeals to the part of me that’s yearning for something normal.

“Oh, hey, Katelyn,” Corey greets.

Her lips quirk up as she walks toward us, and that same warmth is carried in her smile. “Hi, Corey. Hey, Zayn.” Her eyebrows crease as she focuses on Corey. “What are you doing here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the gym. Zayn usually works out alone.”

“He wanted some company today.”

Zayn’s brows furrow together in confusion. “I did?”

“Yeah, you did. Remember, you called me and...” Corey abandons the lie midway when it gets too convoluted and tries another one. “Anyway, me and my buddy were just hanging out, and we thought we’d...pull up.”

“I see.” She’s still a little skeptical when her questioning eyes move to me. “And does your buddy have a name?”

“John,” I reply.

The smile she gives me is a mixture of playfulness and intrigue. “Just John?”

“John...” I pause before I say Turner . That was the name I used for years, saying it so often I almost forgot my own. I don’t want to get so lost in this job that I forget who I am again. I don’t want to be John Turner. He was cold and ruthless, and that’s not who I want to be anymore. Instead, I choose something that’s going to ground me, something that ties me to the real me. “John...Alexander.”

“Alexander?” She plays with the name, testing it on her tongue. Her fingers move up to the silver chain around her neck, and she toys with the heart-shaped locket as she thinks about it. “Alexander. Hm? Now, why does that suit you better than John? You look like an Alex.”

She’s teasing, but the weight of those words sinks into the deepest part of me. Alex. I can’t remember the last time I heard someone call me that. Even the prison guards always addressed me by my last name. Hearing it throws me off a bit, and the way she looks at me makes me feel exposed. Like she can see through me, into me, like she’s the only one in this room who can see the real me.

“I do.” I say it as a confirmation, but she interprets it as a question.

“You do.” Her focus moves back to Corey. “Well, it’s leg day, so I’d better get started.”

I clock the key and keychain dangling from her hand as she adjusts her gym bag on her shoulder. It’s for a car I know all too well, a car I could use very effectively in this not-so-solid-just-gonna-wing-it plan of mine.

“It was nice meeting you, Alex.”

Again, it takes me a moment to recover from that. “Likewise.”

“See you tomorrow, Corey.”

She waves before making her way to the locker rooms. She emerges a few minutes later and walks past the boxing ring to the leg machines on the other side of the gym. After slipping her EarPods in, she stretches her arms, then her legs.

My eyes stay on her, completely fixated, because I still can’t get over how different she looks. She looked kind of skinny in the photo, but those clothes do nothing to hide her shape. Her five-foot-four frame is petite, but I can see the outline of her lean legs, her toned stomach.

It's a contradiction to the rest of her. Her tits are full and supple. Her ass is thick and plump. It’s the kind of body that can bring a grown man to his knees. She’s built for...endurance. Strong enough to take the force, soft enough to cushion the blow.

I feel a twitch in my gym shorts and drag my eyes up to her face. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though. Looking at her face is not as sexual, but just as alluring. This chick is stunning, prettier than I ever expected. She’s absolutely—

“If you stare any harder, you’re gonna burn a hole straight through her.”

Corey’s voice snaps me back to the moment. I didn’t even realize I was staring until he spoke.

“You look like you’ve never seen a girl before,” Zayn adds.

In my defense, I haven’t seen one in years, and I’ve never seen one who looks...like that.

“Her stance isn’t quite right,” I reply. “I was just checking out her form.”

“Oh, her form?” Corey nods. “It wasn’t her ass he was checking out, Zayn. It was her form .”

Zayn nods along as well. “I was also mistaken because his eyes were laser-focused on that particular area, but I guess we were both wrong.” He shrugs. “Thanks for clearing that up, John. For a moment there, we couldn’t decide if you were a perv or a love-struck puppy, but now we know. You’re just a guy...staring at a girl...silently asking to be her personal trainer.”

“Did you just adapt Notting Hill?” Corey chuckles. “Classic!”

They high-five each other, then smile at me like the dorks they are. All they get in response is an unimpressed glare.

“And after all that effort to introduce the two of you,” Corey adds, “you didn’t even flirt with her.”

“Flirt?” Zayn slaps the back of his hand against my chest like a disappointed coach urging me to do better. “He barely even talked to her. Dude, you froze up like a lake in Alaska.”

“Gimme a break, will ya? I haven’t spoken to a girl in ages.”

“Well, it shows.” Corey moves to lie down on the bench again. “And if guys like us feel like we have more game than you...something is clearly wrong.”

“Whatever.” I don’t have time to bicker over bullshit. I have a job to do. “Listen, I need to take a leak. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I sneak outside and scan the parking lot for Katelyn’s car. It’s easy enough to spot because there aren’t many cars, and her sedan stands out like a sore thumb amongst the expensive luxury brands.

She has an older model from the early 2000s, silver but faded to a dull gray. It’s seen better days. I recognize the type immediately. I’ve broken into cars like this too many times before. No fancy alarms, no GPS trackers. Just basic locks and a simple ignition. Easy to mess with if you know what you’re doing.

I look around before I walk toward it, careful to stay out of sight. It’s almost dark, which makes it harder for someone to see me. When I reach the car, I crouch beside the driver’s side wheel and pop the hood latch with a swift flick of my wrist. It’s an older mechanism, and the hood lifts with a faint creak.

The engine is simple and just needs a few tweaks. I scan the wires and locate the ignition coil. A quick disconnect of one of the primary leads will prevent the engine from starting, but it’s an easy fix, one I can undo in seconds.

I pull the wire loose, tucking it slightly out of place to ensure it looks natural to anyone who doesn’t know better. It’ll disrupt the ignition system just enough to stall the car, but not cause any permanent damage.

I close the hood gently, then move my pickup, so it’s parked diagonally opposite hers before I head back inside to finish my session with Zayn and Corey. The two guys call it quits about half an hour later, but Katelyn is still busy, so I tell them I’m going to stay back and do a few more sets before I leave.

I track Katelyn from the corner of my eye as she moves from machine to machine, keeping myself busy at the weight section. As soon as she walks to the locker rooms, I go back outside and wait at my car.

A few minutes later, she comes out, swinging her gym bag over one shoulder, her ponytail bouncing as she walks. I pretend to be unlocking my car, but she doesn’t notice me, anyway.

She climbs into the driver’s seat, tosses her gym bag to the back, and turns the key. The engine sputters but doesn’t catch. She tries again, her brows furrowing. After a third attempt, she slams the steering wheel in frustration, pops the hood, and gets out of the car again.

“Car trouble?” I call out, approaching with just the right amount of casual concern.

She startles slightly, looking up. Recognition flickers in her eyes. “Oh, hey, Alex.” She says my name so naturally that it makes me feel like we’ve known each other for years, even though we met barely an hour ago. “Yeah, it won’t start. I don’t know the first thing about cars, so I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

“Mind if I take a look?” I ask, already stepping toward the front of the car.

“Please.”

I lift the hood, glancing at the loose wire I’d disconnected earlier. “Hmm,” I mutter for show. “Looks like a connection might’ve come loose. Give me a second.”

I carefully reconnect the wire, making it seem like a more involved process than it actually is. “Okay, try it now,” I say, stepping back.

She slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key again. The engine roars to life, and the relief on her face is almost enough to make me feel bad about what I’ve done.

“You’re amazing.” She gets out of the car again and walks to the front to shut the hood. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

“Not a problem,” I reply with a shrug. “But you should probably get it checked out soon. Might need some maintenance.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“I’ll follow you home. Just in case.”

Maybe it’s the directness of my tone, but either what I said or how I said it freaks her out because her response is immediate. “No, that’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Fuck! The whole point of doing this was to get her to lower her defenses and earn her trust. I was hoping she’d see me as the Good Samaritan and let me follow her home. Then once we got back to her place, she’d be kind enough to invite me in for coffee or something to say thank you.

Don’t people do that anymore? Did they ever? I don’t know. I’ve never been nice to anyone. Maybe I pushed for too much too soon, and now she’s suspicious. I need an alternative. Fast!

“Alright. But call me if it acts up again, or if anything happens on your way home.”

Her smile is almost sheepish, as if she’s internally chastising herself for misjudging me. But her suspicions are one hundred percent valid. She hasn’t misjudged me at all.

“Uh...I don’t...have your number.”

“A problem that’s easily solved. Give me your phone.”

Once again, she hesitates, but after a moment or two, she digs into the pocket of her sweater and hands me her phone.

I save my number and swiftly move to another app. “Oh, crap. I accidentally deleted it.”

My eyes flick up for a split second to see if she buys it. She does, but I need to move quickly. I’m still getting used to this new technology, and I’m trying not to let my frustration show as I sift through her sea of apps.

“Let me try again.” I use the time I bought myself to share her location with me before handing her phone back. “There.”

“I’m gonna call you, so you can save my number, too.” She waits to hear my phone ring, then disconnects the call. “Thanks again, Alex.”

“No problem, Katie.”

Her face scrunches as if she disapproves of the nickname. “Most people call me Kate.”

“I’m not most people.” I lean a fraction closer and lower my voice as if I’m sharing a secret meant for her ears only. “And Katie suits you better. You look like a Katie.”

“Ah, you’re flipping the script on me, but you can’t just say that.” Her eyebrows lift, her mouth twitching as if she’s suppressing a grin. “I know what I meant when I said you look like an Alex. What do you mean?”

“I mean...you look like someone who smiles too much to be a Kate.”

And with just those few words, all the suspicion she felt a minute ago dissipates. A wide smile takes over her face, cute enough to be disarming. My chest contracts slightly. It’s a very unusual feeling, but I chalk it down to the fact that I haven’t been this close to a female in almost five years.

“Touché.” She does a little head bow. “Well, I’d better be off. I still have to proofread one of my assignments before I submit it.”

“Sounds like a riveting night you have planned.”

“ So riveting,” she replies dryly. “Not everyone gets to be as glamorous as you, rescuing damsels in distress in gym parking lots.”

I tilt my head. “Glamorous? You think this is glamorous?”

“Of course.” She shrugs. “Getting all greased up and elbow-deep in a car engine? You’re basically a knight in shining armor.”

“There’s no grease, and trust me, I’m no knight.”

My abrupt dismissal of the title makes her eyebrows crease together, and she quickly wipes the smile off her face, feigning indignation on my behalf.

“You know what? You’re right. Knights are overrated, anyway. I’m sure all that armor made them slow and bulky, so how many damsels did they actually save? And how much horsepower did any given knight have? Like...one?” A giggle sputters out of her, but she stops it midway and pretends to be serious again. “It’s an insult to call you a knight because they were basically the original check engine light.”

It’s so corny I almost grin. Almost. She finds it hilarious, though. Laughter bubbles out of her like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever said.

The way her nose crinkles when she laughs is so annoyingly endearing, and I catch myself noticing how she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear when she shifts her weight. Everything about her is simple and unguarded, and it makes the guilt crawl a little higher up my throat. She shouldn’t be laughing or making jokes. Not with me.

And worse still, I shouldn’t be doing these things with her either.

“Did you see what I did there?” she snickers.

“I did.”

“It was an engine joke because—”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“And still nothing?” She narrows her eyes, trying to make sure that my face really hasn’t changed. “I don’t know anything about cars, so I thought that would earn me some extra points.”

“The poor quality of the joke negates any points you may have earned.”

“Well...” she sighs. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“That analogy is kinda out of context.”

“I was...trying to tie it to...to the horses and knights, and—” She shrugs as if she’s giving up. “Never mind. I’m clearly not going to crack you.”

It’s that slight huff of fake exasperation, that tiny titter of embarrassment, that almost pulls a small smile from me. Not because of the bad jokes. Because she’s...cute. Goofy. A little awkward. But undeniably...cute.

She moves to the driver’s door again and has to use quite a bit of force to yank it open.

“You should get that fixed,” I say when it looks like she might lose the struggle against her stubborn door.

Her eyes roll, but she takes it in jest. “Gee, thanks for the advice. If it weren’t for you, I never would’ve noticed.” She slides into the seat and sticks her head out the window to look at me. “What’s your plan for tonight?”

“I’m going to go home and rethink my life choices.”

Those pretty brown eyes dance with amusement, but she stops short of a giggle because my face remains expressionless. She’s not sure if I’m joking or being dead serious. This small interaction with her has pushed me more toward the latter.

“A little intense for a Wednesday...yet probably still more riveting than my night.”

“Probably.”

She smiles, and it’s so sweet and unsuspecting that I feel another small twinge of guilt. “Have a good night, Alex.”

“Likewise, Katie.”

She waves as she pulls out of the parking bay, thanking me one more time as she drives off. Yep. I called it right. She is in no way prepared for a guy like me.