Kidnapped Love

Chapter 16

"Hey!" I answered, schooling my voice into a casual tone despite my racing pulse.

"Hi! How are you doing this morning?" Derek's voice came through the line, its timbre warm like velvet, soothing yet vibrant with an undercurrent of something more—a hint of anticipation, perhaps, or excitement.

"I'm doing great!" I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face as I imagined him on the other end, possibly smiling too.

"I feel the same!" His words resonated, carrying the weight of our shared experience from the night before.

"I'm calling because I really want to see you again. Would you like to hang out again tonight?" The politeness in his request contrasted with the eagerness in his voice, making my heart flutter.

For a moment, I pulled the phone away, indulging in a silent celebration—my body swaying to a rhythm only I could hear. Regaining composure, I returned the phone to my ear, inhaling deeply to steady my voice.

"That would be nice. I'd really enjoy seeing you again," I replied, the calmness in my words belying the thrill coursing through me.

"Perfect! I'm going to send you my address with a good time. I need to pick up a few things after work, so I'll let you know when I'm home later," he said, the smile in his voice painting a vivid picture of his expression.

"Okay, sounds good!" I managed, the simplicity of the conversation a stark contrast to the complexity of my emotions.

"I look forward to seeing you. Bye!" he said, and before I could muster another word, the line went dead.

Clutching the phone, I stood still for a heartbeat, letting the glow of the morning and the promise of the evening ahead wash over me.

Time seemed to crawl as I languished in a state of suspended animation, the clock ticking away minutes that stretched like hours. The sunlight shifted across the floor, marking the passage of an afternoon spent in restlessness. I busied myself with menial tasks, folding laundry and washing dishes, movements automatic and mind far away. In the clink of china and swish of fabric, my thoughts were riding pillion on Derek's motorcycle, wind tangling through my hair, his presence a solid warmth at my back.

The chime of my phone cut through the daydream, a sharp note of reality that had me lunging for the device. His message was there—simple text that set the coordinates for tonight's anticipation. My heart performed its familiar leap as I read the time and address, digits I keyed into my memory with deliberate care.

I ran upstairs and sifted through my closet, not much that would get attention. I settled for a simple outfit, one that I felt comfortable in. Drawing in a deep breath, I turned to face my reflection. Trish's effortless chic hovered in my mind's eye, a benchmark I aimed to meet. However, as I wrestled with the curling iron, my hair remained stubbornly limp, unimpressed by my efforts to coerce it into voluminous waves. Each attempted curl unfurled like a sigh, leaving me with a frazzled halo that mocked my aspirations.

I set aside the iron in surrender. With a few strokes of the brush, I smoothed the strands into a sleek cascade, the simplicity of it feeling both defeat and relief. It was me, unadorned and unassuming—a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that danced just beneath my calm exterior.

I glanced at the clock, the numbers now racing towards the appointed hour. A flutter of nerves stirred within me, but I pushed them down, determined to meet the evening with a semblance of the serenity reflected in my mirror image. There was a quiet strength in authenticity, I reminded myself, even if it couldn't compete with Trish's flair for the dramatic.

"Here goes nothing," I whispered, casting one last scrutinizing look at my reflection before heading out, my heart buoyant with the promise of what lay ahead.