Kidnap My Heart

Chapter Nineteen: Emma and Will

“Shut it, Squilliam,” I said, turning my head so it faced the ceiling. I knew perfectly well what he was attempting to do, but it wasn’t going to work. Obviously, he had something planned. There was no way I was going to go to sleep before him.

He raised his hands up in defense, an action I caught out of the corner of my eye. “Hey, no need to snap at me. I understand you need your beauty sleep. I’ll just leave you alone, and you can fall into a peaceful slumber. Sounds nice, huh?”

If looks had the ability to kill, Will would’ve been dead by then. “Peaceful slumber? Is that a death threat?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just go to sleep.”

I let out a snort. I really needed to stop doing that. It drove my parents crazy, and with good reason. It was so unattractive. “That’s what you want me to do. No way.”

“I’m not gonna do anything to you! If that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Of course that’s what I’m thinking. If you didn’t have anything planned, you would be trying to fall asleep. I’m not going to sleep until you do.”

“Well, I’m not going to sleep until you do.”

I crossed my arms and sighed. This wasn’t going to end, was it? After a long stare-down with Will, I groaned and got up, turning the lights on again.

He cried out immediately and shielded his eyes. “Oh, God, the light… it burns…”

“You’re such a child. How are you three years older than me?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Realizing the detail he could go into concerning his birth, I decided my answer was a definite, “No.”

We just sat there for a while, both fighting the temptation to go to sleep and occasionally glaring at one another. After a while, I grabbed Will’s laptop from off of his desk and turned it on.

Will frowned when I typed in his password with ease. “How did you figure out my password?”

“Your password is ‘password.’ It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure something like that out.”

“I thought it was clever…”

“Yeah, well, you’re on your own then, because the rest of the internet would agree that that’s a break-in waiting to happen.”

“What are you even doing on there? I don’t have an internet connection.”

“There must be something that could entertain me, besides your poetry,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve had enough of that already.”

He immediately looked over at me. “You saw my poetry?” He looked like he wanted to pass out.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw a folder named ‘Poetry’ and knew it’d be a comedic goldmine.”

“They weren’t supposed to be funny,” he complained. “They were honest attempts.”

“I know.” I let out a chuckle. “That’s what makes them funny.”

He continued to grumble a little, but I didn’t care. I started searching through his folders and found a few music videos to watch, but the rest of the videos on there were unwatchable. When I accidentally clicked on one of his other videos—he’d mislabeled it after saving it, I was guessing—it played loudly and caused an awkward silence. I closed out of it as soon as I could, but the damage had been done.