Ducking down, I fumbled in my bag. Grabbing my phone, I swiped it on and clicked on the messenger app.

One new message from someone I didn’t expect.

Justin Miller: Hi, O. Hope you’re good. Quick question. Is Gilbert with you?

What?

Why would Gil be with me?

I bit my lip, looking over my partition as if Gil would magically appear. Staff milled about as sunshine beamed into the high-rise building. Some people had pulled blackout blinds to prevent direct light on their computer screens. The babble of voices and scents of coffee and warm machinery were a total contrast to Gil’s chilly, unwelcoming warehouse.

And he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Not that he has any clue where I work.

Olin Moss: Hi Justin. Nope. Haven’t seen him since yesterday. Why?

A phone call came in on the office line, making me jolt. Placing my personal mobile on the desk, I did my job and answered the work one. The entire time I dealt with a customer requiring a new battery for a computer that was ten years out of date, I waited for Justin to reply.

The little dots bounced beside his name, signalling he was typing.

By the time I hung up, a message popped onto my screen.

Justin Miller: I’m at his place, and he’s not here. He’s ALWAYS here. I’ve literally never come here and he’s not. It’s just odd is all.

My heart picked up a strange beat.

Olin Moss: Why would you think he’s with me?

Justin Miller: Come on. It’s obvious you guys have unfinished history.

I had no response to that. He was right.

Olin Moss: He’s probably at the supermarket or something.

Justin Miller: He gets food delivered. Doesn’t like people, remember?

Olin Moss: Maybe he needed some fresh air?

Justin Miller: In the year since we’ve kinda been friends, he’s never needed anything but his art.

I didn’t reply straight away.

What does he want me to say?

Justin had been friends with Gil far longer than me these days. I’d entered Gil’s life and he’d promptly tried to shove me out of it. Why would I know his schedule?

Olin Moss: Sorry, Justin. I don’t know where he is. Wish I could be more help.

Justin Miller: No worries. It was a long shot. I’m just...jumping to conclusions. He’s a grown man. I’ll call him again tomorrow if I haven’t heard from him. Cheers.

I sighed, ready to lock my phone and return to work, but a final message popped up.

Justin Miller: I haven’t forgotten about dinner by the way. Let me know what night works and I’ll pick you up!

Shannon caught my eye from across two cubicles. She had another trainee who probably wasn’t on their phone like I was.

She waved and flounced over to me in her floaty skirt and cream blouse.

I quickly locked my phone and shoved it into the desk drawer.

“Hey, Olin. Everything going okay so far?”

I nodded. “Yes. Great.”

“Awesome.” She grinned. “Well, you know where I am if you need any help.”

“I do.” Turning to my computer, I placed my fingers on the keyboard, doing my best to seem a worthwhile employee and not one with her head full of things she shouldn’t be thinking about.

A head full of someone she shouldn’t be thinking about.

Another email chimed. Shannon looked at me expectantly.

I gritted my teeth, shoved Gil and Justin from my mind, and did my best to enjoy my new job.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter Fifteen

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

I KNOCKED.

It was the polite thing to do.

No crazy kidnapper lurked outside. No sounds of fists and curses came from inside. The normal, brisk Birmingham evening boasted typical background noises of pigeons and traffic.

My knock went unanswered.

My second knock was ignored too.

I looked at my phone. Nine p.m.

I’d taken longer than I wanted, what with a new job, going home to shower and change, I’d borrowed more time by eating a sandwich and gathering the courage to spend an entire night with Gil while he painted me.

I would admit I’d been weak. I’d dragged my heels, searching for strength.

I was late.

But Gil should be here.

Checking he hadn’t messaged me to postpone our arrangement, I put my phone away before I gave into the temptation to message Justin.

He might know where Gil was...or he might not. Either way, I didn’t want to enter a messaging flurry while standing on Gil’s doorstep in the dark.

Knocking again, I called, “Hello?”

Deep, dark silence.

“Gil?”

Nothing.

I tried the handle, expecting it to open.

It didn’t.

I paused, chewing my lip.

What do I do?

Go home? Wait?

What if Justin was right?

What if Gil wasn’t just missing...but taken?

My heart exploded into gear, taking that question and drowning me in terrible scenarios. Of him inside, beaten and bleeding. Of him in the van, tied up and gagged. Of him dying—

“Gil!”

Backing up, I studied the large brick warehouse. The Total Trickery graffiti didn’t hide any other entrances: no fire escape ladders, no back-alley sneak-ins. The only other way was the large roller door used for trucks reversing to empty and pick up supplies.

My thoughts grew evermore gruesome.

I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t tell myself to calm the hell down.

This was Gil.

This was important.

I’d handle his temper if he’d just changed his mind and didn’t want to paint me. I’d allow him to kick me out if he just wanted to forget I existed.

Those I could get over.

I could never get over failing him if any of the awful images my head turned out to be true.

My handbag slid off my shoulder as I ducked and tested the roller door.

It moved a fraction.

I froze.

I’d expected it to be padlocked to the ground, but either it wasn’t chained down or it was loose.

Dropping to my haunches, I squirreled my fingers under the metal and pulled. It screamed and squeaked, creeping slowly from the ground.

A large chain clanked by the pedestrian access, jangling in place and preventing the door from going any higher than a foot and a half.

It wasn’t exactly a method of welcome, but I’d never been afraid of unconventional entries. Gil had taught me the allure of going to places we weren’t supposed to be at night. The park, the local swimming pool, even the school.

We’d broken in one evening when my parents forgot I’d danced at the school hall as Beauty from a ballet rendition of Beauty and the Beast. They’d never turned up—even though I’d pinned their invitations to their pillows every night for a week.

I hadn’t even told Gil that I’d danced as Belle, too shy to tell him about the performance. But somehow, he’d found out and waited for me outside my house when I got home. No one was inside. Just him sitting on the stoop with his sad smile and knowing gaze.

I’d given him a shrug, fighting back tears. I’d wanted so badly for my mum and dad to watch me.

He’d looked at my dangling ballet slippers and my still-painted face and hugged me close. “You were amazing, owl. Absolutely spectacular.”

I pulled away, shock making my heart skip. “You saw?”

“I saw.”

“How?”

“I broke in.” He kissed my forehead, took my hand in his, and walked me all the way back to school. “I want to watch you again.” He brushed away the strands of hair that’d come loose from my bun. “Would you do that for me? Give me a private dance?”

I no longer needed my parents’ approval or smiles.