I Told My Stepbrother to Kidnap His Crush, So He Kidnapped Me Chapter 11

I Told My Stepbrother to Kidnap His Crush, So He Kidnapped Me Chapter 11

“How did you find me?” 

He said casually, “You posted on social media.” 

Yesterday I’d taken a picture of sunflowers at the 

agriculture park and posted it with the caption [Harper’s Mill is beautiful.] 

Forgot to block him. 

He stepped closer, looking at my drink. “You like that?” 

I tightened my grip on the cup, wary. “What?” 

“Toothpaste water.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

I exploded. “It’s mint! Mint! The whole point of mint iced 

tea is the mint! You don’t get it at all!” 

Does he even understand food? 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“So you like drinking toothpaste water.” 

“I’m cutting off everyone who doesn’t get mint iced tea!” 

I lifted the cup and took a furious gulp. 

He laughed. 

Then he looked at me and said seriously, “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have dissed your mint iced tea.” 

I sniffed. Didn’t answer. 

He reached out and brushed my wrist gently. “Really. I 

have no taste.” 

His fingers were cooler than my sun–warmed arm. Just 

resting on my inner wrist. 

I didn’t pull away. 

Didn’t look at him either. 

A little covered boat drifted under the bridge. The 

boatwoman was singing a ballad. Pretty. 

“When are you going back?” 

He asked. 

I bit my straw. “Day after tomorrow. Long weekend’s 

almost over. I have class.” 

He paused for two seconds. 

“I meant–when are you coming home.” 

I set the tea on the railing, folded my arms, and rested 

my chin on them, looking at the river. 

The water reflected the sunset and the oaks. And our 

two silhouettes, side by side. 

His shadow was much taller than mine. The outline of his 

shoulders fell next to my shadow, like he was about to wrap 

around me. 

“Well…” 

I drew out the word. 

He waited quietly. 

The wind carried the smell of someone’s dinner. 

The cool mint still lingered on my tongue. I licked my 

lips. “Depends.” 

I said it and peeked at him from the corner of my eye. 

sun. 

He leaned on the railing, his profile gilded by the setting 

He didn’t speak. Instead, he reached over, took my iced tea, and took a natural sip. 

“Hey! Get your own.” I tried to grab it. 

He held it higher, out of reach. Swallowed. Then really tasted it. 

“Actually. Not bad.” 

I took the cup back. Condensation beaded on the outside, cool. 

The splashing from the creek had stopped. 

The kid was gone. 

Only the oak branches still swayed. 

I looked down at the half cup of mint iced tea in my 

hand, the ice melting at the bottom. 

I blurted out, “The chicken and dumplings here are really 

good too.” 

Blake turned to look at me. 

“Then we’ll leave tomorrow,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll 

eat it together.” 

The creek below the bridge kept flowing. The sky shifted from gold to crimson to pale purple. 

We just stayed there, leaning on the wooden railing. 

The wind was light. The summer felt long.