Just A Girl

Chapter 5: Heels and Hostages

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POV: EVA (drunk, unhinged, probably concussed)

Somewhere in a sketchy alley

Time: Who the hell knows? Drunk o'clock.

Escape Attempt No. 1

"OMG, Nina Dobrev!" I yell, finger flinging into the void behind the two hot but murdery dudes standing between me and my freedom.

Neither of them moves. Not even a blink. Nada. They just glare at me like I just farted during a funeral.

Rude.

“And she’s in a bikini!” I try again, this time with feelings. Like, Oscar-level desperation. Still nothing. Not even a flinch.

Ugh. What’s even the point of living in a world where straight men don’t respond to Nina Dobrev in swimwear?

My lips pout involuntarily. Okay. Plan B.

Escape Attempt No. 2

“Are you guys… like, together?” I muse casually, twirling a lock of my sticky hair around my finger, even though I'm 94% sure there's gum in it.

Boom. Instant reaction. The hot mystery man with the jawline of sin takes a full step away from Ron, the slightly less hot, but equally murder-y dude holding a gun.

I nearly break into song. "Don't be shy, boys. Love wins."

“OMG,” I squeal in the fakest valley girl voice I can summon, “You guys are together! How. Cute.” I wiggle my brows and point. “Ronnie, are you blushing?”

Ron’s expression turns into the human equivalent of a middle finger. Mr. No Name looks offended on a spiritual level.

God, this is fun.

But also—run. Run, b***h.

They whisper to each other like I can't hear them — which is dumb, because my senses are heightened when I’m drunk. Kind of like a raccoon. A drunk, angry raccoon in heels.

“Babies, they're coming,” I mutter, yanking off my heels and holding them like daggers. “Mama’s ready to kick some ass.”

“You’re drunk, dumbass. You can’t fight.”

Ugh. My inner voice is being such a buzzkill.

“Fine,” I groan. “Let’s run instead. You know, cardio.”

Escape Attempt No. 3

Heels in hand, I sprint like a gremlin on caffeine, giggling like a maniac.

I glance back, they're still speed walking.

“HAHA! Slow bitches! You ain’t catching Mama!” I shout, flipping them off like I’m in a music video.

But then...

They start running.

I scream. Like full horror-movie scream. Why are attractive people always fast?

Ron is gaining. Like, his legs are working overtime and I don’t like that for me. So I channel my inner stuntwoman and drop and roll right into his legs.

CRASH.

“Ooohhh! Loserrr!” I cackle as Ron goes flying. He lands flat on his back, arms out like Jesus on spring break.

“Sorry, not sorry,” I coo, blowing him a kiss as I take off again.

But then…

Mr. No Name, this sexy, silent bastard, is RIGHT. BEHIND. ME.

Bro?? Give me a minute to process your abs at least!

I try to turn a corner, but my legs decide they’ve had enough. I faceplant into the ground like a sad noodle.

“Ow… My face. My boobs. My pride,” I groan.

And just like that, I’m manhandled.

Mr. No Name grabs me — like I weigh nothing. Rude, because I worked for these curves. And now I’m face-to-face with the human sauna known as Ron.

“Damn, she’s fast,” Ron wheezes, brushing dirt off his murder jeans.

“No, you’re just old,” I hiss.

Both of them look mildly offended. I don’t care. I’m cold. I’m bleeding. I’m drunk. And one of them just stepped on my—

“MY f*****g HEEL!” I screech.

Ron freezes. I look down, and it’s like watching my child die in front of me. The heel cracks. A single tear falls. Somewhere, Sarah Jessica Parker is weeping for me.

“RONALD,” I whisper with deadly calm.

He smirks. This man has no soul.

I lunge.

I grab my heel, cradle it like a wounded soldier, then channel every ounce of girl rage and knee him in the junk.

He crumples like bad origami.

“That’s for breaking my expensive heel, asshole,” I spit, giving him a royal hair flip as I attempt to strut away. I say attempt because my leg cramps and I hobble like a flamingo on crack.

And then,

TACKLED. AGAIN.

My boobs hit the pavement so hard they might file a lawsuit.

"God dammit," I wheeze.

Mr. No Name is on top of me. And honestly? Not the worst position I’ve ever been in. His chest is solid rock. His cologne smells like sin and nightmares and somehow expensive soap. I hate him. I want to climb him like a tree.

He grabs my wrists and ties them behind my back.

“Rude!” I bark. “I’m not into bondage with strangers!”

He picks me up like I weigh a feather (rude again) and tosses me over his shoulder.

His shoulder is firm. I hate how nice his back is.

“PUT ME DOWN YOU SEXY SON OF A b***h!” I kick, scream, and flail.

He doesn’t flinch.

Ron, limping behind us, opens the back of a dark purple Dodge Challenger.

My inner car nerd moans. Leather seats. Murder but make it luxury.

Inside the car,

They throw me in the backseat like a misbehaving toddler. I bounce off the leather and glare at them both.

Ron starts buckling in like this is a goddamn Uber ride.

“You really thought your smartness would fight us off? Look at you now, Jasmi—”

“I have a headache, let’s talk later,” I groan, cutting him off and melting into the seat like a sad croissant.

“I’m too drunk to defend myself, I’m getting kidnapped, and I’m f*****g hungry!” I whine.

My stomach growls. My wrists, now magically untied because I'm clever and drunk — tap on Mr. No Name's head.

“Can I get food, please? I'm starving. I could eat a horse. Not a real horse. Maybe a sexy one. Like BoJack Horseman. But not in a weird way.”

Mr. No Name sighs.

“Firstly,” I announce dramatically, “I haven’t eaten anything. Secondly, I’m hurt. And this b***h broke my heels. I deserve food. Like a princess.”

“Who did you call b***h?” Ron growls.

“The man who just broke his d**k!” I fire back sweetly.

"You should shut up little girl" Mr. No name spoke. What a hoe! I'm 24! almost 25 in a few weeks, a grown ass woman. Can't he see that?

"Go choke on this. Hoe!" I hiss at him, using my left hand to smack at his head. I successfully land one smack on his head, and before I can send another smack he pulled out breaks causing me to go flying between them.

Ron loses it. He’s wheezing. Cackling. Hitting the dashboard.

“She called you hoe, bro,” he gasps between laughs.

Mr. No Name glares at him. Then at me. Like I’m a fly he wants to squish. I move back on my seat and he storms out of his seat and swing opens the door on my left, and enter the backseat occupying the space like he owns it, making me sink deep into my seat.

“If you weren’t so valuable, I’d kill you,” he growls.

I flutter my lashes with the grace of a drunk Disney villain. “Glad the feeling’s mutual, daddy.”

And just like that, the air changes.

Like flipping a switch. Like lighting a match in a room soaked in gasoline.

His jaw ticks. His nostrils flare. His eyes darken, not in that poetic, moody-boy way. No. In a "I-want-to-do-terrible-things-to-you-but-I-might-also-kiss-you" kind of way.

My smug grin freezes when I realize he’s just staring at me now — not with annoyance. With something worse.

Interest.

The kind of interest that can ruin lives and panties.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, voice like hot sandpaper, low and threatening. His hand grips the back of the seat as he leans in slowly like a predator who just saw his prey bare her neck and ask for it.

“I said, daddy,” I whisper again, slower this time. Drunker. Hotter. Braver.

Because I’m stupid. Or drunk. Or both.

His hand moves fast. Before I can flinch, it’s wrapped around my jaw not hard, not soft just enough to shut me up.

His fingers are calloused, rough and warm, and he’s way too close now. I can feel the heat radiating off his skin, see a bead of sweat dripping down the sharp line of his temple. His shirt is clinging to his chest, damp and strained against muscle that makes my alcohol-infused brain go feral.

And still his face? Unreadable.

But his eyes?

Those deep, cold, bastard eyes are now burning.

My own breath stutters, and I hate that I can feel my pulse jump not from fear, but from... something else. Something warm and fluttery and absolutely inappropriate considering this man just kidnapped me.

“You should really stop pushing me,” he mutters. His thumb brushes against my cheek like he didn’t mean to do it, like his hand moved without permission. Something flickers in his eyes. A heartbeat of hesitation. A curse whispered in his own mind.

I blink slowly, mouth slightly parted.

He blinks back. Once. Twice. And doesn’t move.

The air between us is thick now like the world pressed pause just to see what we’d do. My heart’s pounding in my ears. I can practically taste the tension, and god help me, I kind of like it.

Our eyes stay locked, my wrists still limp in my lap, and his face inches from mine. His thumb is still on my cheek. He’s staring at my lips like they’ve offended him.

I don’t breathe. He doesn’t blink.

And then...

COUGH.

“Okay,” Ron says, voice deliberately too loud from the front seat. “Should I leave you two alone? Or do I need to find a motel and book a room under ‘Daddy Issues’?”

Mr. No Name lets out a hiss of frustration like Ron just kicked him in the soul. His hand drops from my face like I just burned him.

He sits back fast, dragging a hand over his jaw. His other hand clenches the gearshift like he might throttle it.

I, naturally, cackle like a witch on tequila.

Ron is full-on grinning now, glancing at me through the rearview. “Jesus. I think you gave him a heart flutter.”

Mr. No Name shoots daggers at him.

“I did not flutter,” he growls.

“Oh no,” I slur dramatically, putting a hand over my heart. “He fluttered. I saw it. His eye twitched. That’s a flutter.”

Ron snorts.

“Say ‘daddy’ again and he might actually combust.”

“Shut up,” Mr. No Name mutters through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t look at me again.

“Knock her out,” Mr. No Name snaps. Rude

Knock who?

Suddenly, his hand grabs my neck and there’s a sharp pinch.

"Wait!" I mumble, but the darkness is already licking at the edges of my vision.

I lean back, smiling like the smug drunk b***h I am.

Because something just cracked in the Hot Murder Man.

And I plan to shove my way right through it.

The last thing I see is Ron's stupidly handsome smirk.

“This is definitely not how I wanted to spend my last day of holiday…”

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What will happen when Eva gets sobber?

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Much Love ❤

Riya