My heart is beating like crazy. I’m in the back of a car. Someone took me in broad daylight and no one even batted an eyelash. What is this world coming to?

I haven’t done anything wrong. Why would anyone want me? Fuck. I hope Dad and Mom didn’t get me into some shit. What if they sold me to buy drugs?

This was my greatest fear growing up, but I thought no one would want me at nineteen years old. They’re so going to use me as a sex slave. I’ve never even had sex. Is this how I’ll lose my V-card? I mean… it’s better than losing it to your dad — story for another day.

I have to come up with an escape plan.The door opens. I feel the change in the air as we go inside what I assume is a house. I pull and push—nothing. Strong hands hold me. It’s one person. Strong.

But even if I’m not strong, I’m smart. It’s easy to outsmart a gangster and escape.

My stomach rumbles. I’m starving. I haven’t eaten in days. Dad stole the little money I had hidden—now I have to start from scratch.

Suddenly, I’m thrown onto a bed.

Is he planning to have his way with me?

Before my thoughts can go too far, the door opens again. Then it closes. He’s gone. I try to move—both my hands and legs are tied.

Five minutes later, the gangster comes back. He smells like cocoa butter. I shouldn’t be thinking this, but he smells so good. I haven’t had a decent shower in days—maybe that will save me. The Johnnies will say, “Set him free, he stinks.”

One side of the bed sinks. Someone sits beside me. He helps me sit up. There’s a sweet aroma—no, burgers.

He lifts the black cloth from my face, and—Christ—my breath catches.

His eyes.

They’re beautiful. He’s staring at me like he can see straight into my soul. He clears his throat and removes the cell tape from my mouth. Then he rubs his thumb gently around my lips, like he’s trying to ease the pain there.

He steps back and holds out the burger.

“Eat,” he says, his voice rough.

I want to. No—I need to eat. But I’m stubborn.

“Why?”

“You’re hungry,” he says.

“Why am I here?” I ask. “And how much do they own you?”

He looks confused.“My parents,” I try to clarify, but I still get nothing.

Maybe he was just given a job—to take me and drop me somewhere—no backstory, no questions.

“I want to talk to your boss.”

“First, eat,” he says. “Everything else later.”

He holds the food closer to my mouth and starts feeding me. He watches me carefully—my lips, my throat. Too carefully. Then he lifts a drink, and I drink.

I’m eating and drinking greedily, like I might never get food again. I hate how desperate I look, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

All the while, I keep watching his eyes.

Blue. Like the ocean.

I like the ocean.

I’ve been held in this room for the past four days. No internet. He locks the door when he leaves, but there’s plenty of food and fruit, a hot shower—this is like an upgrade from what I had back home. There are books and comic books I can entertain myself with. Lowkey, I love it here. Obviously, I can’t say that out loud. It’s crazy.

My captor comes at night, his clothes stained with blood. Is he a hunter or something? I ask. He never answers. I still don’t know why I’m here or his name. I call him Ocean Eyes. My Ocean Eyes. Huh, that’s just wishful thinking, but just imagine him being mine—those strong arms holding me at night. I’d never be scared of anything ever again.

“You can sleep on the bed. The floor ain’t good for your chest,” he says while undressing. I shamelessly check him out, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“What about you?” I ask.

He says he’ll sleep on the sofa downstairs. That’s a no from me. I need my cocoa butter smell here with me. It helps me sleep. Of course, I don’t say that out loud.

He takes a shower and comes back. “Come up here, we can share,” he says, tapping the bed. I run—literally—before he changes his mind.

I can’t sleep. I’m afraid of breathing too loud, turning too much. I don’t know when sleep catches me, but when I wake up, I’m alone. There’s breakfast on the table and a note:

No noise. My cousin is downstairs. No going out. Will bring you your schoolwork.

I’m not a kidnapper, but what the hell is he doing?“Are you not afraid I’ll run away?” I ask.

He looks me straight in the eyes and says, “I’m a wanted man out there. The cops want me. The killer—the revenge killer—wants me. And the public too.”

That shuts me up.

Then he laughs. This heavy, heavenly laughter that rattles my head. He ruffles my hair as he passes.

My stomach flips. Butterflies. I can’t breathe.

Wow. Just… wow.

I want to listen to that laugh every day.Most of the time, I do the talking. He does the ignoring.

Last night, I went on and on about how one of his comic books has a missing page and I’ll never know what happened.

Today, he showed up with a brand-new one. Oooh boy, it’s like he’s setting me up for failure—making me feel spoiled and unsure how to handle it.

Later, he came into the room with warm milk to help me sleep better.

This is pathetic to admit, but this is the most someone has ever taken care of me. Not even my own parents. Pathetic, right?Sometimes I catch him watching me from the corner of my eye, those ocean-blue eyes soft and unreadable.

I don’t know what to make of it.

I hear heavy footsteps, then the door opens. A large man peeks in, looks at me like I’m a glitch in his reality.

“Hi,” I say, because what else do you say to a stranger inspecting you like furniture?

“Hi,” he replies, then closes the door and leaves.

Damn. This family has genes. Hot genes. It’s honestly unfair.

Days pass. I have a phone now. Internet access. Freedom, technically—but not really. I check everything. Messages. Socials. News. Nothing. No missing person posts. No desperate parents. No friends asking where I am. If I wasn’t a witness, the cops wouldn’t be looking either.

That realization sits heavy in my chest.

A text buzzes in.

Ocean Eyes: stay upstairs

I ignore it.

I decide I want milk—because rebellion starts small—and I sneak downstairs. The door opens suddenly and I duck behind the counter, heart trying to escape my ribcage. Someone curses.

“Shit.”

Then laughter. Loud. Familiar.

Mike.

I peek out just in time to see them—Derrick and Mike—with him. Jay.

What are they playing at?

Jay looks at me, eyes narrowing for half a second. Recognition flashes there—clear as day—but when we’re introduced, he acts like we’ve never met. Cool. Fine. Not my circus.

Later, we actually get a chance to talk. He’s joining our campus soon. Camps too. Apparently, he doesn’t even know Derrick saved him that night.

Which… what the hell?

Why would Derrick keep something like that a secret? Whatever. Not my secret. Not my monkey.

The four of us start hanging out a lot after that. Too much, honestly. Movie nights. Shared meals. Long silences that say more than conversations ever could. And the tension?

Insane.

Derrick and Jay will sit on opposite ends of the couch like there’s an invisible force field between them. They pretend not to look at each other, but I see it. The micro-glances. The accidental brushing of hands that makes them both freeze. Jay leaning forward without realizing. Derrick’s jaw tightening like he’s fighting a boss battle in his head.

They should just kiss already.

Meanwhile, I’m fighting my own tragic war.

Ocean Eyes is impossible.

I’ve been trying to seduce him for weeks. Weeks. Subtle flirting. Not-so-subtle flirting. Sitting just close enough to be noticed but not questioned. One time I “forgot” how the washing machine worked just to get him to come over.

He explained it calmly, pressed the buttons himself, and walked away like he didn’t just destroy my entire strategy.

Stone. Absolute stone.

He brings food. Makes sure I sleep. Leaves blankets on the couch like some silent guardian angel. No flirting. No cracks. Not even accidental eye contact that lingers too long. It’s rude, honestly.

Jay finds this hilarious.

“Maybe he’s immune to charm,” he tells me.

Offensive. Because I am charm.Sometimes, though—very rarely—when Ocean Eyes thinks no one’s watching, he looks at me like he’s memorizing my face. Like he’s counting my freckles or something.

That should terrify me.

Instead, it keeps me up at night.

And Derrick and Jay? They keep circling each other like gravity’s pulling them closer whether they want it to or not. Whatever they’re running from is already catching up.

I just hope none of us get crushed when it does.