AIM [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 2: GINM

After her cool shower, she wore the spiceberry top and grey-blue jeans she had brought along in her carry bag. She wore the same shoes: muddy, black sneakers with formerly white laces as she did not own any soccer boots. Aimee walked toward the open locker and threw all of her items out into her bag before zipping it up. When Aimee turned around, she was shocked to see an adult man in a black tuxedo and tinted sunglasses approach her in the girls' locker room!

"Are you Aimee Whitaker?" he asked in a British accent.

"Who wants to know?" Aimee posed back, her hand tightly gripping the straps of her bag. She could only wonder how he knew her name, her real name.

"I'm Mitchel Buckley... only call me Buckley," he introduced himself.

He reached his hand out to hers. Aimee had not let his sudden friendliness overshadow his nosiness, especially when he used that hand to grab her arm. He demanded she go with him. She tried to resist his hold, but he was a lot stronger than her, even when she let go of her bag and used both hands. The man pulled Aimee along with ease. By then, not even the janitors were around and Emma remained on the other side of the stadium. She was on her own, sort of. No one could hear her scream. Buckley pulled her to the parking lot and threw her into the back of his limo. He shut the door and climbed in at the driver's seat.

As much as he tried, Buckley could not ignore Aimee's banging and screaming. His ears were beginning to ring. He asked his son, who was sitting on the passenger side, to shut her up - but not permanently, since they are the "good guys" - so he did just that. The black tinted window that separated the back of the limousine from the front rolled down before Aimee's eyes. She was quiet. She expected it to be Buckley, but he was driving, was he not?

Aimee's eyebrows rose when she saw the most handsome being she had ever laid eyes upon, Buckley's son. It was hard to believe the two were even related. They had the same brown hair, but that was about it. He looked a little familiar, but she could not quite put her finger on it.

"Aimee," he smiled. His voice was low and calm. "I'm Stefan, Buckley's son."

She almost fainted when he introduced himself. Not only because his voice was like that of ten singing angels, but of course, he was 'The Stefan' that she had seen before the league and on the stands at the last game.

He is the Stefan with straight, dark brown hair at just the right length and beautiful, entrancing blue-green eyes. He asked Aimee to stop with the ruckus and then rolled the window back up. Aimee was shocked at how sweet and gorgeous he was. Emma certainly had reason to lose her mind! Aimee wanted to make a noise again, just so he would speak to her. Being kidnapped was not as bad as she thought it was...

"Stefan... Buckley," she sighed.

She hated his surname, but he originated from England after all. Stefan still sounded American, which was great in Aimee's case. She did not really like foreign accents - and having to guess what people were trying to say to her. Her only exception was French. It was her second language and she had always dreamt of going to Paris someday.

Aimee's real parents told her so much about it. They had had their honeymoon there, two years before Aimee's birth. Benjamin and Abba Whitaker were madly in love. That was as much as Aimee could remember of her biological mom and dad.

Eventually, the limousine stopped, or rather jolted, making Aimee hit her head on the floor. The limo's engine was not off, but the vehicle was at a standstill. Stefan stepped out and opened Aimee's door to see that she was upside down. She realised that he was smiling at her.

"How embarrassing," she blushed.

"There's no need to feel embarrassed," Stefan reassured her. "My dad is a terrible driver."