Chapter Twenty-Two: Emma

Kidnap My Heart

Chapter 22: Emma

The tables had turned. When I woke up the next morning, Will wasn’t the one forcibly cuddling with me. I was the one forcibly cuddling with Will. Why he was even on the bed, I wasn’t sure. Why I was holding onto him, I definitely wasn’t sure.

My head was resting on his chest—not his bare chest, thankfully—and I had my left arm thrown over his ribs. His own arm was loosely slung around me. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. I laid perfectly still, afraid to move. If he woke up, he would definitely get the wrong idea, and I wouldn’t be able to hold the whole cuddle-raping thing against him anymore. The fact that his arm was around me wouldn’t mean much. Cuddle-raping was his thing, not mine. It was in my best interest to carefully get up.

The second I lifted my head, just slightly, Will’s voice resounded through the room. “Nice of you to join us.”

Godammit. I slowly laid my head back down, unwilling to look at Will just yet. His smug smirk would only vex me. “Who’s us?”

“Us. The world of the living.”

I lazily glanced around the room without lifting my head. The room was empty. “There’s no one else in here.”

Now would be the time to get the hell up, Emma…

“That we know of,” he muttered. I smiled at the tone of his voice. Eric hadn’t let me down. I had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to resist my proposition. The thought of how Will had spent his night made me want to laugh out loud, but that would only make me look like a prime suspect. Instead of giving into the waves of laughter that threatened to erupt, I hid my face into Will’s chest, hoping my action would be distracting enough to hide the fact that I was stifling a serious bout of giggles.

If Will’s quiet, sharp intake of breath said anything, I was willing to bet he hadn’t noticed my amusement, only my movement.

Finally, once I was sure I could control my facial expressions, I removed my arm and lifted my head off of his chest. He reluctantly moved his arm and let me sit up. I’d stayed in that position way too long, even after I was already awake. I really didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

“You don’t have to move,” he said. When I lifted my eyebrows up at him, he went on. “I don’t mind.”

I internally rolled my eyes. He was still trying to make this happen. Hadn’t I made myself clear enough? I wasn’t interested in hooking up with him. I wasn’t a hook-up kind of girl.

“Why are you up here?” I asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject. “Your bed is down there.” I inclined my head towards the floor.

His complexion—normally a nice shade of olive—whitened as I adjusted my position, sitting Indian style on the bed. “I, uh, wanted to spend time with you?”

I gave him a weird look. “I was asleep. What kind of freak are you?”

His face went from white to red. I was starting to think he had the ability to turn every color of the rainbow. I’d seen him turn white, red, pink, purple, and blue. Those last two were thanks to me and my handcuffs, fine, but still. It counted. “I’m not a freak. I swear. I just—”

“Like to lay in my bed and watch me sleep? What are you, Edward Cullen?”

He gave me an offended look. “I am not a sparkly vampire! Come on, Rage. Of all the comparisons you could’ve made.”

I snorted. Please. Frankly, that was the only kind of vampire Will would ever be able to pull off— if supernatural creatures really existed. He wasn’t very menacing or bloodthirsty.

He paused. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. If he was, he gave up and spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?”

I eyed him warily. “What?”

“Have you heard anything… weird at night? Anything out of the ordinary?”

Bingo. This was the perfect moment to take this a step further, to take the fear I’d already instilled in him and blow it up.

The wary expression dropped from my face. I replaced it with a slow frown and wide eyes. My voice came out as a whisper. “You can hear it, too?”

Will’s face mirrored mine. The difference? His terror was real, while I was dying of laughter on the inside. The horrified look on his face quickly faded, and a forcibly nonchalant look took its place. “Uh, yeah, but it’s not a big deal. The house has been haunted for a while now.”

“Really?” My voice gained a little bit of strength, but it still couldn’t be classified as anything but a whisper.

“Yeah. It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He let out a nervous laugh and shrugged, but I knew he wasn’t really shrugging this off so easily. He was terrified.

It took everything I had. It honestly took everything I had to avoid laughing at his fear. I kept the same worried expression on my face, and he ate it right up.  “I’m not worried. I’m sure it’s nothing. We’re probably just imagining things.” I glanced down at the big, fluffy comforter, avoiding Will’s gaze.

My words said one thing, but the contortions of my face said another. Facial expressions were so much more descriptive than words. If you wanted to trick somebody, words weren’t the key. Body and facial language were.

When I glanced back up, Will was already looking at me. I’d only meant to glance, but I found myself staring. His electric blue eyes were hypnotizing—a ridiculously perfect shade of blue. I’d never seen anything like them. Or maybe I had and I’d never paid attention, never really cared. I wasn’t the most perceptive person in the world, although this was by choice.

I’d never met anyone like him, either. In this case, I definitely would have noticed if I had. He was… well, he was different, that was for sure. I didn’t know many guys who were this gullible and fun to mess with, and I definitely didn’t know many guys who would name their man bits ‘Vlad the Impaler.’

The longer I stared at Will, the more incredulous I became. How could someone who looked so flawless and beautiful on the outside be so infuriating, rude and arrogant on the inside?

“I can stay with you if you want,” he offered, holding my gaze. “If it’ll make you feel better.” His words almost didn’t register in my mind. They served as such a stark contrast to the picture I’d just finished painting of Will in my mind. Where had that come from?

“You’re already staying with me,” I pointed out.

“Up here, I meant.” I’d almost forgotten he was still lying on my bed. Well, half-sitting up, half-lying down, if you wanted to get technical. I should’ve pushed him off the bed. “If you want. I don’t know what I could do to protect you against ghosts, but I could try.” He let out a small chuckle during that last sentence.

I kept looking into his eyes, and it dawned on me that he wasn’t kidding. His offer was actually legitimate. He was genuinely offering to protect me from these “ghosts.” It almost made me feel bad for tricking him, but at the same time, it was freaking hilarious. I had a feeling his offer had something to do with his own fear, anyway. There was no reason to feel bad. And this was probably just part of his master plan to get into my pants. Girls were suckers for protective guys, and I was willing to bet he knew it. Definitely no reason to feel bad.

“No, that’s okay,” I finally said, tearing my eyes away from his. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. To avoid any mistrust on his part, I added, “I’ll let you know if I need any protection or anything. But thanks.”

The only thing I needed protection from was myself. I’d almost let Will’s charming good looks and “sweet” disposition distract me from my own plans. There was no way I was giving up the prank. A little bit of fear wasn’t going to kill the guy. Just shake him up a bit.

***

I’d never experienced true frustration until I tried to take a shower the next morning. All I wanted to do was take a shower and enjoy the warm water that was cascading onto my tense body. Warm water was a rarity in this house, a rarity I’d been determined to enjoy until I tried picking up the soap.

It slipped from my hand the moment I attempted to grab it. Thinking I’d grabbed too hard or something, I leaned down to pick it up off of the floor and it slipped from my grasp again. “What the hell?” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at the blue bar of soap. I reached for it again, but it just slipped past my fingers. No matter what angle I went at it at, no matter what I did—I couldn’t get a proper grip on it.

It wasn’t until I’d spent a good minute attempting to pick up the damned soap that my eyes widened in realization. “Will.”

This was his retaliation for the deodorant prank I’d pulled on him. I had been right to suspect he was planning something. One decent conversation between us wasn’t enough to deter either of us from continuing this prank war.

Refusing to let him know how frustrated I was, I opened the curtain and reached for the other bar of soap. There was always a spare in the cabinet next to the shower. When I tried grabbing it, it slipped and fell in the toilet. This time, I let the frustration out and was very vocal about it. I let out an exasperated scream and angrily stomped my foot. I just wanted to take a goddamn shower.

“Will!” I screamed, poking my head out of the shower.

I heard his deep laughter and groaned irately. He was standing outside, just waiting for the frustrated screams to begin. He was enjoying this. Oh, but he was going to pay for this. Even though I was still technically in the lead, he was going to pay for this. I wasn’t sure what game we were really playing, but anything that could count as a win for either of us counted as a point.

Right now, the score was set in my favor.

Emma: 7

Will: 5

Those last three points had come from my second escape from the garage, Will’s giving up the bed, and the cream-cheese prank. Will’s two points had come from the two pranks he’d pulled so far.

“What did you do to the soap?” I demanded.

“Why do you ask?”

“You know perfectly well why I’m asking. What did you do to the soap?”

“Oh, nothing,” Will said, his tone way too casual. “Did you know nail polish seals in whatever it covers? Did you know clear nail polish that’s been aired out for a few hours has no smell?”

There was no way he’d come up with this on his own. Or maybe he was just smarter than I gave him credit for. Maybe I’d made a rookie mistake and underestimated the enemy.

“You covered the damn soap with clear nail polish.” It wasn’t a question.

His cocky reply could be heard loud and clear through the door. “It’s just a little nail polish. I’d go look for another bar of soap if I were you. The lack of cleanliness will get to you after a while.”

I should’ve been a lot angrier, but I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle—a bitter chuckle, but still a chuckle. “Not bad, Squilliam. Not bad.”

He paused. His voice portrayed a certain sense of disbelief. “Did I hear right? Did you, Emma van der Bilt, just compliment me?”

“Not bad doesn’t equate to good. Don’t hand yourself a trophy just yet. Now, seriously, if you don’t want me to keep wasting water, I’d suggest getting me a new bar of soap.”

He laughed. He actually had the nerve to laugh at my very serious suggestion. “Are you kidding me? No.”

“Why the hell not?” This felt like deja-vu. I was pretty sure this had been the exact same response I’d given Will a few days ago when he refused to grab me some clothes. Was it a few days? I had no idea anymore. Time was a vague concept in this house. It was like we were in a little bubble, separated from civilization in its entirety. It was like I was living in a tiny dystopia.

“Did you offer to help me scrub my pits when you tricked me into rubbing vinegar-cheese shit all over them? No.”

“It was only one of your underarms,” I said, wrinkling my nose at his way of referring to his underarms. Pits. I hated that word. It sounded so uncouth. Why couldn’t he just say underarms?

“Doesn’t matter. Did you help me get rid of the stench?”

“Why would I do that? I wasn’t about to climb in the shower with you,” I exclaimed, shaking my head back and forth. This guy…

“I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he said.

I took in a deep breath, attempting to calm myself down. Prison orange is not your color. Prison orange is not your color. Prison orange is not your color!

Once I was tranquil, I spoke. “Are you going to get the soap or not?”

“Nope.”

Goddamn it. I turned the water off and roughly shoved aside the curtains, grabbing one of my towels as I stepped out. Wrapping it around my body, I shoved my feet through the sandals I usually wore after I showered and marched out. The amused expression Will wore as I stomped past made me want to hit him with a shovel again.

He followed me around the house as I impatiently searched for the soap. Did he offer any input or tell me where they kept the soap? No. No, he did not. Taylor and Eric weren’t downstairs, so asking them was out of the question since there was no way I was climbing those creaky stairs with only a towel on.

When Will caught a glimpse of the irritated look on my face, he snickered and said, “Tell you what. I’ll tell you where the soap is on one condition.”

This ought to be good. Will’s conditions tended to have sexual undertones. “And what would that condition be?”

His lips quirked up into a cocky smile. “I’ll tell you where it is if I can join you in there.”

My eyes turned into tiny slits. He knew perfectly well I wasn’t going to take him up on the offer. He just wanted to rile me up. Considering I ended up calling him a pig and throwing the nearest object at him, I’d say it worked.

You would think Will would have stopped at the slippery soap prank, but nope. He had to take things a step further and get me back again. If this was for the deodorant thing, he was going way too far. That prank wasn’t even a big deal. Dealing out two pranks over one harmless little prank? Not cool.

This was assuming he was still clueless about the whole haunting thing. I assumed he was. His disposition toward me hadn’t changed in the slightest, and his haunting wasn’t something he took lightly. There was no way he’d be able to hold the anger in if he knew the truth. He would have said something for sure.

The only thing that stopped me from exploding when I crashed onto my bed was the reminder of the damage I’d done by “haunting” Will. Technically, we were even. Not even, really—I was still ahead. He just didn’t know it yet. Barely ahead, but ahead.

Will gained another point when he flipped my mattress and remade it so it looked normal. If this had been my mattress from home, there wouldn’t have been a problem. I had a really nice mattress that didn’t have an uncomfortable thread in it. Will’s mattress, on the other hand, was basically nothing but springs and lumpiness on the bottom, and it basically killed my back.

“Ow,” I groaned, arching my back in pain. I tried to get up, but when my hand pressed down, it came in contact with a sharp spring. I let out a shrill squeak and tore my hand away, looking at the small cut in fury. “Will!”

His annoying, deep laughter filled the room, and I shot him a dirty look, pointedly turning my head away from him.

After a few more seconds of lying on that contraption, I sighed in defeat. I didn’t want to move without getting some help. I wasn’t about to get stabbed in the hand again by tiny, satanic springs, and he was the only other person in the room. Screw pride; this thing was hazardous. “Help me up, Will. This actually hurts.”

His laughter continued, but when he saw the look on my face and realized I wasn’t saying it to just make him feel bad or something, his laughter died down and he hurried over to carefully help me up. “Too far?” he asked, half of his mouth turning downwards into what looked like a half-frown.

“Too far.” I grimaced, and he let go of my hand. I attempted to stretch out my back a little by arching it. I already felt knots starting to form just from laying there for a few seconds too long.

Will curiously prodded at the mattress, flinching back when he touched the wrong spot—probably another broken spring that could double as a small blade. He turned to face me again, an overt frown on his face. “I didn’t think it was that bad when I flipped it.” When had he come closer? “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Whatever.” I stuck my hand under my shirt and attempted to rub my back to check for cuts or bruises. My stupid, stubby arm couldn’t reach very well. My arms weren’t nearly as flexible as my legs.

“I should’ve tested it and made sure it wasn’t dangerous. Sorry, Rage.” His lips were pressed tightly together, and guilt filled his eyes. He really wasn’t a bad guy, was he? Maybe his insides weren’t as dark and twisty as I’d imagined.

“Whatever,” I repeated. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, honestly, and I didn’t need or want his good-guy apologies.

“Let me see,” he said. When I shot him an incredulous look, he went on. “I just wanna see if there are any cuts or anything.”

An anchor-like feeling settled in my stomach, yet I still nodded. There was no way I was going to be able to check my back myself. My arms couldn’t reach. Still, I was reluctant to turn around and lift my shirt. I mean, this was Will, after all.

When I finally did turn around, I subtly shook my head. God, this seemed weird—borderline-sadistic, really. He hurt my back during a prank and then felt the need to check it to make sure I was alright. I mean, fine, it was pretty much an accident since he hadn’t realized how bad the bottom of his mattress really was, but still. This would’ve been like me attempting to nurse him back to health after beating him with those handcuffs.

He slowly lifted the back of my shirt, and I stiffened when I felt his warm touch on the cold skin of my back. Every time his fingers moved even the slightest inch, I swear I almost had a heart attack. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how nervous his touch made me feel. I tried to ignore how my pulse was quickening, how heat was creeping onto my neck. Could he tell? God, I hoped not. This was mortifying. Good thing it didn’t mean anything. He was just checking to see if he’d accidentally inflicted any injuries on me. But why the hell was he taking so long? This wasn’t physics.

“Any cuts or bruises?” I finally asked. I couldn’t take it any longer. His fingers, slowly tracing a soft path along my back, were driving me insane.

“There’s one scratch, but it’s not big at all,” he said after a few more seconds. Those few seconds felt like minutes. “I can’t tell if there are any bruises forming. I’d have to press down or something, and I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“It’s fine,” I said, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt and shoving it back down in one swift motion. The discomfort I’d felt on my back was replaced by warmth, and—what? I wasn’t sure.

“There’s a first aid kit somewhere,” Will said when I whirled around. “I can grab a Band-Aid and you’ll be good as new.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” I didn’t want a repeat of what had just happened. He’d lingered too long, and I hadn’t minded enough.

What I needed at that moment was familiarity. I needed the prank war to continue undeterred. It was official. I was getting back at him for this. That night. The tiny hint of regret I felt for haunting him? Gone. This was war—a subdued version of war, anyway—and there was no room for an emotion like regret in war.

***

I probably went over this chapter a million times, I swear. Insta-love is an easy plot device to fall into and I wanna avoid it with this story. I wanna make sure everyone can see the romance blossoming. If any of you ever have any input on this kinda thing, don't hesitate to leave a comment! It'll come in handy during editing. :)