A/N: This used to be chapter four. Rearranging made it chapter two. If you're a new reader disregard this message! Just letting people who've already read the first draft know. 

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Kidnap My Heart 

Chapter 2: Will 

“Babe, I gotta go,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Jesus Christ. If this was how this girl acted in what was supposed to be a relationship with no strings attached, how would she act if I’d done as she wanted and made her my girlfriend? I shuddered at the thought.

“Why can’t you stay a little longer?” Her pout had turned into a shrill, demanding tone, and when she spoke, she sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her body.

I don’t know how I did it. To this day, I still don’t know how I did it, but I somehow managed to ignore my hormones and say, “I just can’t. Sorry, babe. I’ll call you sometime.” Keeping my gaze on her face was a struggle, but I knew if I looked downwards, I’d fall into the temptation to sleep with her again.

“Sometime?” Her shrill tone had now turned into a piercing screech, and I flinched at the sound. “Willy-Bear, I am tired of hearing ‘sometime’ and ‘maybe!’ I want something concrete! I want something real!”

I was too focused on the atrocious nickname to realize what she was saying at first, to be honest. Willy-Bear? Come on! Of all the nicknames in the world. Why couldn’t girls ever pick a manly nickname, like Big Daddy or Stud or Tank? No, I had it! Pimp Daddy. Why couldn’t girls ever call me Pimp Daddy?

“Willy-Bear? Hello?”

Oh, God, how had I not noticed this before? I mean, I’d been a victim to some of the worst pet names in the world, but Willy-Bear had to be one of the very worst. Among Willy-Bear’s top competitors were Snugglebunny, Honeybucket, Pookie, and Foofie Poops. That last one was understandably at the top of the list. Why a girl would choose a nickname involving what goes on in her toilet was beyond me.

“Will?”

I still didn’t reply, too horrified by the prospect of being called Willy-Bear in public, or worse, in front of my brother, Eric. He’d never let me live that one down.

“Are you even listening to me?” All of a sudden, she was right in my face, glaring down at me.

I quickly backed up, grabbing my jeans and shirt as I did. “Listen, Natasha—”

“Natasha?” she cried, nearly falling over as she abruptly backed away. “My name is Natalie!”

Shit. See? This was why I used pet names myself, although mine were a million times better than the ones girls gave me. I stuck with the simple ones: babe, baby, sweetheart. I wasn’t sure why I made the mistake of attempting to remember her name. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to get her off my back. I couldn’t blame myself; she was a nightmare.

“That’s what I meant,” I said. “Listen, Natalie. I don’t think we should hang out anymore.” Hang out was the PG way to phrase what we were doing, if you know what I mean.

“What?” Her face fell. “Is this about my pushiness? Because if it is, I’m sorry, Willy-Bear! I didn’t meant to pressure you. Please forgive me!”

I shook my head. “I just need… space. Yeah, space.” Yeah, that sounded good. The space excuse was a great way to let someone down without getting kicked in the nuts. “Sorry. Besides, you deserve a real relationship, not whatever this is.” Actually, I kind of thought she didn’t. She was kind of a whore, and she was pretty annoying, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that. That wasn’t the kind of thing you told a softball player who had all of her bats in the house.

“But we could have a real relationship one day,” she insisted. “I’ll wait for you!”

I almost made a face at her, but luckily, I stopped myself. “I don’t think you want to wait that long. You’ll probably be old and wrinkly by then, and I wouldn’t want you, anyways.”

This was, apparently, one of those things you don’t say to a softball player. She scowled at me and jumped up, heading straight towards her closet. By the look on her face, I had a feeling she might have had a few bats stashed in there. 

My eyes widened as I watched her, and I began to throw on my clothes as I talked. “Er, as fun as this little thing of ours has been, it’s over, and I’m leaving. Later. No, not later. Bye.”

I shuffled out of there, buttoning my pants as fast as I could, quickly breaking out into a sprint when I heard her following me. I didn’t even care that she was naked anymore. I had a feeling she was now trying to kill me, and I’m sorry, but I wasn’t the kind of guy who was turned on by homicidal tendencies. 

“Call me!” she shrieked right before I slammed the door to her apartment shut.

Christ. Women these days…

I ran out of her apartment building, and I didn’t stop running until I was in my car. Breathing a sigh of relief, I leaned my head against the back of the seat. Thank God I’d escaped whatever that was before it had gotten out of hand. And then people wondered why I wasn’t looking for a relationship and refused to be talked into one. Who would want to chain themselves to that? Relationships were like prison; you literally couldn’t do anything without giving your girlfriend a detailed report of your plans for the day.

Girl: Baby, where are you? I miss you!

Me: I’m hanging out with a friend. I’ll swing by later.

Girl: Is she prettier than me, you cheating ass? I hate you. Go to hell!

Girlfriends also tended to assume if you were anywhere but church, your parents’ house, or out doing something to surprise her, you were cheating on her. Great logic, huh? That was usually my problem with girls; they were too clingy. If I wanted clingy, I’d date a sheet of fabric softener.

I mean, it wasn’t like commitment issues were this shocking rarity among guys. I didn’t know why it was so hard to understand that I didn’t do commitment. What was so wrong with wanting to date two girls at the same time?

Besides, if they didn’t like it, why would they accept it and throw a jealous fit later on? It didn’t make sense, and I hated jealous fits. They always caused a scene, and while I loved attention, that wasn’t the kind of attention I had in mind. It kind of gave me a bad reputation. Not that that stopped girls from flocking to me. With my looks? Unlikely.

If their clinginess didn’t chase me off—which it usually did—their personalities finished the job for them. Needy. Boring. Annoying. That was what I had to work with. How was I supposed to form a relationship from that? I guess it didn’t help that I tended to go for girls because of their looks; they were probably used to getting by on their looks alone. If you were hot, most people didn’t care if you had the personality of a stale piece of bread, but since I was pretty much hotter than all of the girls I dated, their looks only went so far.

I wasn’t sure why, but even the interesting ones didn’t keep my interest for long. Maybe they just lost the spunk they had. It didn’t really bother me, though. I was only twenty. It wasn’t like I had to settle down any time soon, and I wasn’t interested in settling down for a long time. I’d seen firsthand how they always ended. Relationships in general. My brother didn’t have the same careless attitude I had. He didn’t mind the idea of settling down, and when he dated, it wasn’t to have a good time. It was to find his future wife, and he, in turn, always got hurt in the end. I couldn’t even count the amount of times I’d had to cheer the guy up after a breakup.

I’d tried to convince him that my way of life was easier, but he wouldn’t even hear me out. He was the spitting image of our mom: nice, caring, and hopelessly romantic. That was why our father liked Eric better than me; he reminded him of our mom.

I didn’t like the path my thoughts were starting to take, so I put the car into gear and sped away without looking back.

Good riddance, Natasha. I hope you and your softball bat live happily ever after.

***

I walked into my room only to see my brother glued to my computer screen. Not literally, of course. That would hurt.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Don’t you have your own computer?” I walked over to the computer and stared at the screen in shock. “You installed cameras in her apartment?”

Eric didn’t even sound ashamed when he answered. In fact, he didn’t even look up. He just replied, “Yes.”

“Oh, my God,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I’m official a creeper. No, we’re officially creepers. I never thought I’d have to resort to this. If this gets out, this could ruin my reputation.”

I was going to kill my father. This was his fault. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t even be in this situation. I wouldn’t be creeping on a girl I’d never even met. One thing was looking at pictures of Emma van der Bilt. We had to know what she looked like, after all, and to be honest, she was pretty hot. I wouldn’t mind getting involved with her, and she just so happened to live in an apartment with her equally hot best friend, Taylor. I obviously didn’t mind looking through their pictures, but creeping on them like this? That was weird.

“They’re not even home yet. I’ll just close my eyes if they start to undress. Problem solved.” Eric shrugged nonchalantly, like this wasn’t the single creepiest thing we’d ever done. How could he act so casual? This wasn’t normal.

“This is so wrong,” I continued, anxiously pacing up and down the room. “I’m William Knight. I don’t need to stalk girls. They stalk me. It’s a proven fact. Remember Elena, Massey, Bailee, and whatever the rest of their names were? They followed me around for weeks!”

Eric rolled his eyes. “And this is why you’re still single. Why does it even matter? You’re not getting with this girl, anyway, or her friend, for that matter.”

“No, I’m still single because I choose to be,” I clarified with a scowl. It was my choice, but he made it sound like I was some forever-alone loser. “Why couldn’t I get with this girl? Or her friend?” I was actually offended. There was no doubt in my mind that I could get with these girls. They’d be in my bed before I could count to twenty.

“No, you’re still single because you’re an ass,” Eric said with a laugh. “Besides, sleeping with them wasn’t what we were told to do.”

“Of course. So obedient, as always.”

I didn’t care if that wasn’t what we were told to do. This wasn’t something I wanted to do in the first place. I didn’t know why I’d ever agreed to it. I guess my father had just seemed so desperate, so unlike himself when he’d asked us to do this that I’d given in. Why this was his go-to plan, I wasn’t sure. If I ever went broke, my first idea wouldn’t be to kidnap the daughter of a billionaire and hold her for ransom.

Eric didn’t reply to my comment, so I went on. “I’m sure Pops won’t mind if we have some fun with this,” I said with a smirk. “There’s nothing wrong with fooling around a little bit, is there?”

“You wouldn’t think so, would you? What makes you think she’s going to want to fool around? After tonight, you’ll have no chance with her.”

“Man, look at me,” I said, gesturing towards myself vainly. “Of course she’s gonna wanna fool around. Her friend, too.” My brother, the peanut. How naïve he was to underestimate my charm. I couldn’t help but shake my head at him and laugh.

By the time that girl was sent back home after having been rescued by her desperate father, she would be begging to stay with me. I wouldn’t even have to do much, either. A bit of sweet talking, maybe a little bit of fooling around, some endearment, whatever. I knew how this worked. If I had to do this kidnapping thing, I may as well get a kick out of it. Besides, it was practically fate: she was hot, I was hot. It worked out perfectly.

Eric just muttered, “Doubt it.”

Whatever. He’d see soon enough. I wasn’t worried at all; that girl would be putty in my hands in no time. Maybe this whole kidnapping thing wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

***

I'm alive!  

I know, I know, I suck. I realize this. But you all forgive me, right? I mean, it's William's POV..... I think I made up for it! 

Anyhoo. I like writing in his POV, actually, even though I'm pretty sure I fail at a guy's perspective. But whatever.

Hope you guys liked it and let me know what you think!