Page 91 of His Captive

I shower, change and sit in front of the TV, delving into Mrs. Rodgers’ pot roast, while I wonder to myself who I will end up leaving meals on the doorstep for when she’s gone and I’m the old and lonely woman-next-door.

Ok, so Karaoke wasn’t so bad. Ian and Lucy, however, are terrible. Lucy has dragged me up and forced me to sing with her. I wasn’t really a music fan, but I find a Bananarama song on the playlist that I remember singing along to with my Mom when I was younger. I’m done singing “I Want You Back” and leave Lucy to do a solo number. I slump on to a bar stool next to Ian throwing my head into my hands in shame. He claps and bows before he orders another round of drinks.

I sip the margarita that he places in front of me and excuse myself to use the ladies’ room.

The noise of the club dulls to low thumps as I walk down the narrow corridor toward the restroom. The dark passage is poorly lit, and when something pulls at my wrist, dragging me inside a small closet, my scream is quickly muffled by the heavy hand that slams over my mouth

Its pitch black. I can’t see a thing and I feel around for something, anything I can use to defend myself. My palms fumble over a solid hard chest and hear that familiar deep groan.

“Ethan?” I whisper.

“Who’s the guy?” His voice sounds like a scratch, one that digs deep enough to scar.

“What guy?”

“The guy you’re with, who is he?”

“Ian? Ian’s just, Ian,” I explain, more concerned about what he’s doing here.

“Are you fucking him?” Ethan asks, impatiently.

“I’m not his type,” I laugh,

“You’re fucking everyone’s type.”

“You’re more Ian’s type,” I tell him, wishing I could see his face.

“Why aren’t you staying at your house?” He quickly changes the subject.

“Because it’s your house, not my house.”

“It's your house. I bought it for you. It's in your name”

“I like my apartment.”

“I don’t like the area.”

“Well, then it’s lucky no one's asking you to live there... Ethan, what are you doing here?” I ask him, my heart fluttering and my fingertips twitching. The space we’re in is so compact I can feel him pressing into every part of me, breathing against my neck.

“I was in the area. I wanted to check you were okay... No more walking home from work in the dark. You have a car.” He’s actually referring to his car, the one I’d taken when I’d left, and haven’t driven since.

“You can have it back,” I tell him.

“I never said I wanted it back.”

“I don’t use it anyway.”

“That’s criminal, that car is beautiful to drive.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t your favorite.”

“I lied.”

“Ethan?”

“Yes?” He moves closer, I sense his lips so close to mine, I wonder if they might kiss me again.

“I need to get back to my friends. But, thank-you,” I say, at least grateful him being here gives me that opportunity.

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