Rachel
Noah and I have returned to our usual spots in my living room with a freshly opened wine bottle and our glasses full.
“What were you thinking?” Noah questions as he sips from his glass. “He could have been a criminal.”
“If we consider what his friend said, he probably is.” Which would be right on brand for me. I’m into bad boys a little too much.
“Exactly. One more reason not to kidnap him.” Noah’s voice gets louder, but then he takes another sip as if he is using the crimson liquid to calm himself. Knowing my friend, that’s exactly what he’s doing, and it is clearly not helping.
“I didn’t know that when I caught him,” I say with a smirk.
“He is not a Pokémon, Rachel; you didn’t catch him. You fucking kidnapped him.” He refills his wine glass. Noah, buddy, I love you, but the wine is not working for you.
“You said that already; it would be a fun game, though. Collect all the bikers. Do you think I would win?” I joke.
“Yes, and the prize would be a prison sentence.” Rude.
“You’re overreacting. Everything turned out okay.” I take a sip from my glass; this is good wine. I lean back in my armchair and pick up my book. I open it and begin to read, ignoring Noah, but he isn’t satisfied with the conversation yet.
“It only turned out okay because the dude is clearly a criminal and couldn’t report another criminal,” he says in return.
“Still, the point is that it ended in a good way, so go back to your book and shut up,” I say, not lifting my eyes from my book.
“Rachel, he could come back and murder you.” Yes, please! He is welcome to come back and murder me if he does it by shoving his dick down my throat.
“Maybe he will be up for some kinky time before he kills me.” I look up from my book this time with a devilish smirk.
“Rachel!” Noah yells my name.
“Noah!” I yell his name back, mimicking his tone.
“You stupid bitch. He knows who you are and your address. How hard do you think it would be for him to come back and murder you?”
“Don’t be dramatic, Noah; he didn’t seem like the killing-people type.” I return my gaze to my book as I take another sip of my wine.
“And you don’t really seem like the kidnapping-people type, but here we are,” Noah argues.
“Details.” I return my gaze to my book and bring my wine glass to my lips.
The rich red liquid enters my mouth, and the sensation makes me pause for a moment.
This is good wine. It’s not blackout-level good wine, but still a great one.
Besides, any wine can give you a blackout if you drink enough of it, which happens to be my current plan. I deserve this after the night I had.
“You have no survival instincts.” Noah picks up his book and starts reading.
I am sure the conversation has ended, and I smile, satisfied, as I fill my glass of wine again, ready to go back to my mafia romance.
This night has been ridiculous, and the enemies are about to become lovers.
I need to know if the mafia princess will fall for the big, bad boss of the opposite family.
To my disappointment, Noah puts his book aside again. “What if he comes back?”
“Noah, relax. We won’t see him again.” It’s not like it would be a bad thing if we did, but I choose to keep that little thought to myself.
“Seriously, though, what if we do?” he presses. He’s like a dog with a bone. Let it go, buddy. This guy is gone. He is not returning.
“If we do, we'll deal with it then.” I fill his now-empty glass with the remainder of the wine.
“How? It’s not like we can call the police on him.” Sure, we can. We just have to avoid telling them how we met him.
“I don’t know, Noah. Read your damn book and drink your wine.” I leave my book on the coffee table and get up to fetch more wine while Noah chugs the remainder of his glass.
“Fine, I guess things could be worse.” Noah finally accepts defeat.
I walk to the kitchen and open the fridge.
I take out a new bottle of wine and move it to the counter.
I pick up the bottle opener and proceed to open the bottle when my phone buzzes with a message.
I hate the sound of notifications on my phone, so I’ve had it on silent ever since I got it.
I check the message with one hand, setting the phone on the counter to read it as I toss the cork into the trash alongside the empty bottle from earlier.
Unknown: Hey, little criminal.
“Fuck!” I say out loud without thinking, and Noah rushes to the kitchen.
“What happened?” I hide the phone behind me. If he learns about this, I’ll have to deal with him panicking all over again. This is fine. It’s probably a coincidence. Someone else is messaging me. This can’t be the biker I kidnapped. Can it be?
“I scared myself with the sound of the bottle opening,” I say, smiling as I hand him the newly opened wine bottle. “Go back to the living room; I’ll be right behind you. I’m going to make some popcorn.”
Noah doesn’t question me; he takes the bottle and turns his back to me as he walks to the living room. I open a cabinet, take out a microwavable popcorn package, and put it in the microwave. I press the timer and start button, then pick up my phone again. I type the reply.
Unknown: Hey, little criminal.
Me: Biker boy?
The little dots indicating that he’s typing appear, and my phone buzzes with a new answer.
Unknown: Oh, I see you didn’t forget about me.
Asshole. As if I’ve been kidnapping so many people lately that it would be easy to forget the blue-haired god I had tied up in my room earlier.
I start typing but decide leaving him on read is better, so I erase my reply.
Right on cue, the sound from the microwave draws my attention back to the popcorn.
I open another cabinet and take out a big bowl.
I empty the contents of the brown paper bag full of popcorn into it and add some salt. My phone buzzes again.
Unknown: Come on, little criminal. You don’t think you can ignore me, do you?
That’s exactly what I think. I turn my phone off and leave it on the counter. I take the bowl and head to the living room, where Noah has now gone fully back to his book. I set the bowl on the coffee table and pick up my book and wine glass. Maybe the night wasn’t such a disaster after all.