Eleven-Lexi

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STARING OUT OF the window of Landon's Jeep, I am terrified and not talking. I can tell he's annoyed with my lack of conversation, which to be honest, makes me even more nervous. I watch the buildings blur past the window until his voice brings me out of my stupor.

"So, um...where do you want to go?"

I shrug, gripping my cell phone tightly in my hands. "I don't know the restaurants, I'm new here."

He raises his eyebrows. "So that explains why I haven't seen you around town."

I nod.

"Where did you move from?"

"New Zealand," I say automatically. "But I lived here until I was six."

"New Zealand? That's cool, what was it like there?"

I close my eyes, exasperated. People can never figure out that this is a sensitive topic for me. "It was, um...look, can we talk about something else?"

Landon glances over at me without turning his head. "Okay, I was just trying to make conversation..."

"You realize this is like kidnap, right?"

Rolling his eyes, Landon says, "Why? I didn't shove you into the car and lock the doors."

I throw him a look.

"Okay, maybe it's like kidnap," he confesses.

We pull into the parking lot of an Italian restaurant, and I get out of the car. An idea keeps reappearing in my mind. Should I run now? Should I try to get away before he has the chance to hurt me?

"I know what you're thinking," says Landon's voice, coming near me and locking his car. "If you run I'll just catch you again. It's obvious who the faster one is."

He holds my arm tightly in his overly strong hand.

"Get your hands off me," I snap, beginning to walk toward the restaurant. He releases me and raises his arms as if commanded to do so by the police.

Once seated, the waitress takes our orders. She can tell that I don't want to be where I am, and keeps giving me sympathetic looks.

She walks away and I take a sip of my Dr. Pepper. It's my favorite drink, and I think I deserve something I want.

Landon is looking at me strangely, and it's really freaking me out. He won't wake his eyes off me. Like he's...craving me. Like he...

"I have to use the restroom," I announce, standing up.

He just nods his head, and I practically run to the bathroom.

Fortunately, it's a single-toilet instead of stalls, so I am alone and I have the ability to lock the door. I stare at myself in the mirror, leaning over the sink, looking into my own brown eyes. I have to get out of here. I need to leave, fast. I could get away...our table is on the other side of the restaurant, so he wouldn't be able to see me sneak out. Although I don't have a car, and anyway, I have no idea how to get home from here. But at least I can escape Landon.

I exit the bathroom and rush, stealth-like, to the restaurant's doors, running around the side of the building. I find myself in a small courtyard area with a fountain and benches.

Fumbling with my phone, I begin to dial my mom's number-but wait. I can't tell her about Landon. I told her I was going to lunch with a friend, so why would I want to be picked up?

Okay, so I can't call my parents. Who else? Of course, if I was still in New Zealand, my first choice would be Austin. But unfortunately, I'm not. So...Morgan? She would understand, surely. And she knows about Landon.

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