Page 21 of How to Not Kidnap a Bike
“Asshole.” I laugh as I gather the napkins and set them on the living room table in front of us. Then I sit back, sinking into the comfy couch as I watch Rachel read her book in silence. I could get used to that. Watching her read, teasing her. This is a nice routine we have developed in the last few hours of knowing her. The start of a love story, one where Prince Charming is thevillain that stalks the princess and kidnaps her to his castle. I like that idea more than traditional fairy tales. I would make a dashing Prince Charming, if you ask me, but instead of a white horse, I would be riding a GSX-R1000R. I love my bike, and I think it would make my Prince Charming cred even more valid. Because who would trust a prince riding on a white horse in this century? But a black motorcycle and a rider with blue hair—who wouldn’t trust that?
Chapter 7
Rachel
“Eat your pancakes.” The obsession my friend has with pancakes at this point is ridiculous. I hate breakfast, but every Sunday, Noah insists on making them. And sometimes Saturdays and Fridays too. We spend too much time with each other. He stays here more than he is at his own apartment. I would too if my apartment weren't bigger than my closet, but still. A girl sometimes needs her personal space. One of those times is now because Noah wants to eat breakfast and make small talk while I want to scroll through Kai’s Instagram and find out as much as I can about him.
“I'm good with just coffee,” I say without looking up from my phone.
“Are you stalking Kai?”That’s rude. Why would you assume that, Noah? I would never.
“No. It’s not stalking if the feed is public, right?” I continue my doom-scroll through this man’s photos.
“When was this picture posted?” Noah asks as he stands over me, watching me observe a picture of Kai with a woman. She is a pretty woman in her mid-twenties with a beautiful smile and long eyelashes. She wears a bikini, and they are at a beach. He smiles next to her with his arm draped over her shoulder. It’s clear they are not just friends.
“Summer of 2015.”Still, not stalking. I just like looking at old photos.
“Yeah, you are stalking the poor man, Rachel,” Noah jokes as he takes the coffee pot, filling both of our mugs.
“Okay, fine, I might be stalking him a little.” He chuckles and winks at me before he takes a sip of his coffee. I zoom in on the photo, trying to determine if this woman could still be in Kai’s life. I am looking at every little detail, zooming in and out to check everything I might have missed when my finger slips, and instead of zooming in, I double-tap the damn photo.Fuck.“No. No. No. Damn it.”
“What? What happened?” Noah frantically tries to figure out what happened. He grabs my phone from my hand, and there it is—the little red heart where an empty one should be under the picture. “Oh, fuck. You liked the picture.”
“I liked the picture,” I repeat, because how stupid am I to like the damn picture?
My phone buzzes right on cue, and Noah opens the message. He reads it out loud. “Biker boy: Are we stalking my Instagram now, little criminal?” Of course, he saw the notification. Kill me now. “Someone is smart.”Noah, I swear to God, I will murder you.
I snatch my phone back and look at the message. Then another one appears.
Biker boy: Don’t worry about her, criminal. She is long out of the picture.
Noah is standing behind me, looking over my shoulder reading the same message.
“At least we now know she is not a problem.” Well, he is not wrong. That’s at least a good thing.
“I wasn’t worrying about her anyway. He is free to fuck and date whoever he wants.” I set my phone on the table and take a sip from my coffee as if it will fix everything.
“Yes, you were.”Why is my best friend such an asshole today?
“Okay, I was a little worried,” I admit.
“That’s my best friend.” Noah laughs, and I laugh with him because each morning we live through since we met Kai is more ridiculous than the next. I read Kai’s message again. That little reassurance he offered, displayed on the screen, is the sexiest thing he could have done in this situation. I love a man who doesn’t mince his words and doesn’t hide behind lies. He could have pretended it never happened. He could have not commented on the specific photo I liked. He could have never addressed the woman in it, yet... he chose to do all of the above. Because he doesn’t mince his words. That’s one thing I like about the stranger I allowed to enter my life.
Kai
“THE LITTLE CRIMINALis stalking me,” I announce as I walk into the living room. Leo is still half asleep on the couch, where he spent his night watching the feed from the cameras he was mad I had installed at Rachel’s house. This man is a complete hypocrite. I set my mug of coffee on the living room table and kneel next to the couch. I bring his mug under his nose, and a sleeping Leo suddenly comes to life.
“What?” He blinks rapidly, trying to get himself awake enough to process information.
“She liked a photo from 2015 on my Instagram.” He sits upright on the couch and takes the mug from my hand. I take the seat beside him, my mug in hand and a smile of success on my face. My little criminal is more unhinged than I am. I chose right this time. Not only is this woman not mad at me for stalking her, but she stalks back. We are a match made in heaven. Fucking born to be with each other. I know it. She is the most perfect woman for me. I knew it from the moment she kidnapped me and tied me to a chair. That’s how every love story should start: with a kidnapping and an unhinged woman in charge.
“Did she actually like a photo from ten years ago?” Finally, Leo’s brain is awake enough to process information.
“Yes, she did.” Today is a good day. It’s Sunday, my girl is stalking me, and I don’t have to go to work.Such a good day indeed.
“Jesus Christ. You found a woman as crazy as you.” Leo drinks his coffee while he checks his phone, probably for a message from Noah.
“Technically, she found me,” I correct him, because this is a part of the story I will happily tell our future kids. We are going to have such beautiful kids. She is a fucking beauty, and I’m not too bad myself. Our future kids have won the gene lottery already, and they don’t even exist.
