Kidnap My Heart

Chapter Nineteen: Emma and Will

After a few more seconds of dead silence, Will nodded at me and calmly said, “I see you found my collection.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I found it ages ago. It’s not very hidden.”

“Then why did you click?” He shook his head and grinned. “Didn’t know you were into that stuff, Rage.”

“I’m not,” I snapped, heat trickling onto my cheeks against my wishes. “You mislabeled it and it had no thumbnail.”

“Right.”

“Do you need me to show you? I will, if you want.”

“Nope.” He still had that amused look on his face.

“Or I could just throw this computer at your face so you can absorb the information that way and realize you’re being an ass.”

He chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. Relax. I’m just messing around.”

“Whatever.”

Annoyed, I exited out of his documents and started playing games on his computer for a while. He had chess, checkers, minesweeper, and a few card games built into the system. I wasn’t a big fan of games, though, and after an hour of this, I got bored. Will spent that hour either staring at me or staring out at space.

I shut the laptop and involuntarily yawned as I did so. I’d been trying to hold it in, but it finally just burst out.

Will smirked and was about to make a comment when a yawn of his own burst out. He’d attempted to stifle it but failed in the end. Yawns were contagious.

Since neither of us could really make fun of the other for being tired, we settled for having another stare-down, waiting for the other to crack. Will lost the stare-down when I threw one of my glasses of water at him. It wasn’t full anymore, but it had enough in it to get him a little wet.

“That’s cheating,” he exclaimed, jumping backwards.

“I wasn’t aware there were any rules. I wasn’t aware we were even playing a game.”

“Oh, you know what’s going on here. Don’t even.” He disentangled himself from his blankets and stood up, pulling his shirt off with a single movement.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You threw a glass of water on me. What the fuck do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to keep your clothes on,” I said, averting my eyes. It wasn’t because I found him repulsive or anything. It was basically the opposite. I didn’t want to enjoy the view. More importantly, I didn’t want to get caught enjoying the view. He would never let me live that one down.

When I risked a glance, I noticed the smug smile he wore. He’d been staring at me the entire time.

I looked him straight in the eye, forcing myself to keep my eyes focused on just his head and said, “Not gonna work, Will. Taking your shirt off and showcasing your stupid six-pack isn’t going to make me cower into my covers and fall asleep.”

I expected him to deny it or something, but instead, he asked, “You counted?”

“What?”

“You called my abs a six-pack. So you counted?”

I shot him a look—it was the same look I always shot him. It was the are-you-stupid look. “I forget you’re intellectually inept sometimes. No one ever counts. Abs are labeled six-packs unless you’re ridiculously ripped and clearly have an eight or ten pack.”