Brooke Roberts

"Caramel Frappuccino and an Iced Latte for Olivia," the barista calls out, and my friend steps forward to get our drinks.

"Okay, but wait, did he confess? Like, outright?" she asks as she hands me my latte.

I take a sip of the refreshing drink, my mind drifting back to the previous afternoon when I was at the pool with Raffi, and my body responds to the memory, yearning to feel him again.

"Yeah, without any hesitation or asking for a response."

"But do you know how you feel?" my friend asks, resting her face in her hand as she sips her coffee through a paper straw.

I sigh.

"I do, obviously, but I couldn’t say anything. He’s amazing, caring, and fun—how could anyone resist?" I ask rhetorically. "But I’ve always heard that you can only love one person at a time, that if you’re in love with more than one, you don’t truly love any of them."

"Hm... and who exactly told you that?"

"Everyone?" I shrug and lower my head.

I don’t remember when I realized I was falling for Raffi, but after all the time we’ve spent together, the way he treats me and makes me laugh, I’ve never had a real chance. Who wouldn’t fall for Rafael Martinez?

"Oh yes, the same people who judge a person’s worth based on their job? Skin color? That 'everyone'?" Liv asks, reaching out to take my hand and draw my attention to her face. Her eyes are full of affection. "So what if you love two men who love you back? So what if you need two or more men," she winks at me, "to make you happy? You deserve that, B. There are people who spend their lives searching for the kind of love you’re experiencing; don’t let it slip through your fingers."

I feel my eyes well up and blink to push back the tears that threaten to form.

"Olivia Jones, you are the best friend in the world."

"I know, I know, but I still want more details about what happened when Kyle showed up."

I recount the story without too many details, which deeply annoys her, but we’re in a crowded mall café during peak hours, and I’m not about to describe my sex life so openly.

Once we finish our drinks, we go shopping, which was the excuse for this midweek outing. We visit three clothing stores, where Liv finds three new tops, two pairs of shoes, and a dress. I pick out only two items: a pair of light denim shorts and a starry-strap tank top.

"Where do you want to have dinner?" I ask as we leave the last store.

"Actually…" She turns to me with a smile on her face. "I kind of have a date."

"What?" I give her arm a playful tap. "How come you didn’t tell me anything over the last two hours? What kind of best friend are you?"

"The kind that listens to and pays attention to every detail of your life to the point of forgetting a small detail," she retorts.

"Fair enough, but who is he?"

"Well, it’s one of the lawyers who works in the same building as I do," she shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but I can see the sparkle of excitement in her eyes.

"That’s why you wanted to go shopping," I accuse. "And why you were so indecisive about which dress to choose."

"Yes, and your advice was great; the red one looked stunning," she repeats my words from when she tried on the dress.

"I expect a full report in the morning, Jones," I say, linking my arm with hers and heading to the elevators. "Better yet, I want a selfie before you leave the house and for you to share your location."

"Of course, as if I’d ever do it differently," she quips. "Where did you park?"

"I think it's on the third floor," I say, trying to remember the color of the pillars. "Orange, it’s the third one, right?"

I love this mall for that reason; each floor is a different color, making it easier to remember where you parked your car, something I tend to forget.

"Yes, it is. I'm on the green floor, which is the first level of the parking garage."

We press the buttons for each floor, and soon we’re at Liv’s.

"Bye, B. I’ll call you tomorrow."

"You better, and don’t forget to send me the photo."

"Okay," she says as she’s already outside, the doors starting to close as she adds, "Love you."

"Love you too," I manage to say before I’m left alone in the elevator.

I pull out my phone from my jeans pocket and see a new message in the family group: Seth and the others picking up B.

The message is a video of the dogs running around the backyard in the morning, searching for something. The humor lies in Rafael’s narration, where he does three different voices and says the most absurd things.

The doors open, and I step out of the elevator, quickly scanning the area ahead for number 87, where my car is parked, before turning my attention back to the video.

Everything happens so fast; one moment I’m alone, and the next, there’s someone behind me. Their labored breathing indicates they ran to catch up with me, and their arm comes around my body, trapping me. Panic overwhelms me, and I start to gasp, cold sweat covering my hands.

"You can’t hesitate; find the weak spot." Seth’s voice fills my mind, as if flipping a switch.

I do what I was taught and lower my face, protecting my neck while dropping everything I’m holding and preparing to run. I just need to perform the maneuver he taught me, and I’ll be free.

But the other hand of the person holding me covers my face with a cloth, and the strong chemical smell clouds my mind. My muscles seem to weaken and refuse to respond.

I close my eyes and let muscle memory, which Seth insisted I develop, take over. I open my eyes and turn in my attacker’s arms, slower than I should, but still effective. My vision darkens at the edges, but I don’t waste any time and run desperately towards the fire exit and elevators, needing to get help.

My stomach churns, and I swallow the urge to vomit. My knees feel like jelly, my blood seems to pulse in my ears, and I can’t hear if the man is coming after me, but I don’t risk looking back. I reach the elevator area and spot the silhouette of someone. Hope bursts in my chest; I made it.

"Please, help me—" I begin to say to the stranger extending a hand, thinking they will help me, but it closes around my fist, pulling me violently towards them. I lose my balance and fall in front of them. My knees hurt, but it’s what I see between their fingers that makes my blood run cold.

"Sorry, Seth, I tried," I think bitterly.

The second man shoves a needle into my neck, and I feel the sting as he empties the syringe. His malevolent grin is the last thing I see before my body crashes to the concrete.