Tricky Heart (Wattys 2024)(English)

Prologue - That damn phone

After what I read on his phone, I don't know if it's worth continuing.

I thought he was different.

In fact, he is.

He kidnapped me with those big blue eyes of his, but you know, kidnappings are never that good.

At this point, I would have liked something different, I don't know, a date for example.

That would have suited me: the desire to see each other, to not be late, to be undecided about what dress to wear. Or is the dress too much?! Off with the dress, I put on this blue T-shirt, no writing, no figures on it. I don't want to look too eccentric.

Then there would be text exchanges.

Paul: "Martha, you are already late, where are you?"

Me: "Ten minutes and I'll be down."

Lie. I would have been on the verge of having to shower again.

I haven't even met him and already I'm lying!

In my defense, I would have taken that shower really fast, so much so that the clothes were ready on the bed.

I mean, I would have had a way to be able to decide what to put on, what to do or - why not! - where to go.

Instead, when someone kidnaps you ... You don't have that choice.

No, they don't ask your permission.

I think I heard once, a story where the captor approached his prey and with a bow asked:

"Good evening, will you allow me to hood you and get you into that van?"

The prey replied:

"I'm sorry, but today is not the time. Come by later, in fact, let's do it in a week."

This is just a story, though; I doubt it happens that way in reality.

This time there was not one of those classic movie vans: all black, big and with sliding doors on the sides.

Too easy.

They'd all be good at this: you go to the dealer and ask for the shadiest van there is; you give notice that you have to do a kidnapping, of course, and they'd recommend the best van on the market.

"We've already rented two this week! They're going fast!"

What a bad category classic robbers are, let alone car salesmen.

No, he is different.

He is neither a classic robber nor a car salesman.

He is more classy.

He wears those blue eyes, that stunned way he listens to you ...

His enthusiasm would make even one of those children's TV characters envious.

He strokes that black hair with his right hand and throws it back as if to say, "Look at my face."

I loved how he stroked it.

Not to mention him perfume.

Oh my God, that scent of him! It was irresistible. I could smell his scent pervading my senses, entering up my nose, ending up in my brain and touching the shiver button that would vibrate my skin. Then a kiss and the vibration would drill into my bones.

But then ... Then I read his phone.

The drill found a weak point and the bones fractured into a thousand pieces. Impossible to make them heal, too many pieces.

Why did I take that phone?

I could have seen a video on TikTok or Instagram. A cute kitten falling because he jumped too short. Instead, no.

I could have minded my own business that day ...