“I don’t know, it’s in your recently used icons, not mine.” Putting the phone down, he says, “Nothing from Rafe.”
I roll my eyes. “Broken heart emoji. Crying emoji. Coffin emoji.”
“Coffin emoji?”
“For ‘I’m going to die alone,’” I explain.
“You’re weird,” Sin tells me, but he says it like it’s a good thing.
“I’m aware of that,” I answer.
Now that he’s sated his desire to go through my phone, he peels off his jacket. That’s acceptable. It gets a little less acceptable when he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
“Um, what are you doing?” I ask, jerking on my chain. “I need out of these.”
“Is it hot in here? I’m hot,” he answers, peeling off his shirt and dropping it on the ground.
I watch the fabric fall, hoping he at least keeps his pants on. It’s so much harder to remember he’s my captor when he takes off his clothes. “It’s not… No, it’s comfortable in here right now. Is something wrong with you?” I ask, noticing he’s acting a little off. I don’t know what he left to do, but I think he’s acting funny.
“Lots,” he answers, putting a knee on the bed and climbing across me to get over to his side.
I nearly object to him climbing on top of me when he could have easily walked around to his own side of the bed, but then I catch a whiff of alcohol and it all clicks into place. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not entirely sober,” he admits, collapsing on the bed beside me and grabbing a pillow to cover his face with.
I can’t quite stifle a smile. “Oh, my. Can you uncuff me before you pass out, please? I’ve been stuck here all day.”
Removing the pillow, he looks up at me. His eyes narrow, but it seems more playful than legitimately annoyed. “So you can escape? I don’t think so.”
“I promise I won’t try to escape. I’ll go grab us both bottles of water, hit the bathroom, and come right back,” I tell him.
“Why would you bring me water?”
“Because you have clearly been drinking. Alcohol dehydrates the body. You need extra water to replenish.”
Sin shakes his head, watching my face. “Why do you care? I’m your kidnapper, for Christ’s sake.”
“Well, sure, but you’re a reasonable kidnapper. You feed me, keep me company, and uncuff me sometimes. Speaking of which…” I rattle my chain again.
“Why wouldn’t you run? I’m slightly compromised right now; if you were going to run, this would be a good time.”
“I don’t need to run. You have to let me leave soon anyway. I’ve done everything you asked. I stayed the night in Vegas—”
“Because I handcuffed you to my bed.”
“—I agreed to talk to Rafe—”
“But then you made me text him from your phone.”
“—I have been a cooperative, well-mannered hostage,” I summarize. “Consequently, it’s pretty much time for the crazy train to coast into the station and let me off. It’s been an interesting trip, but I do have a life to get back to.”
“I’m not letting you go yet,” he says, like it’s just that simple. Like it’s his decision to make. “I need a little more time.”
“I’m starting to feel like this is an excuse, and a bad one. If you need time, I need to know what it’s for. Also, we need to come up with a much better system than handcuffing me to the bed every time you have to leave the house, because this is getting old fast.”
“You don’t like the cuffs?” he asks, raising up and looking over at them. “I like the cuffs.”
“I like having the freedom to move as I please,” I inform him.