I kidnapped Josh Hutcherson

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"At least they gave me a computer," Paige said. 

Josh laughed, as if that was the most incredulous thing to say at that exact moment. "Can't you go on facebook and contact someone? Tell them to come and get us?" he asked. 

"Nope, sorry. Jenni has figured it all out," Paige replied. "She's blocked facebook and twitter so I can't really contact anyone. She's left me with tumblr but no one I know is on tumblr anyhow. All I can really go on is the girls' pages and most of their stuff is shit about you." 

"About me?"

Paige nodded. She lifted her laptop for Josh to see and bit her lip to quell her laughter at the look on his face. "Sorry, I thought you'd have known about the tumblr posts about your ass in skinny jeans."

"Uh . . . not exactly . . ."

"Josh, even I, me, someone who doesn't give a damn about you or your life, knew there was a tumblr tag about your ass in skinny jeans," Paige said. She put the laptop back into her lap and started typing furiously. "It's an official tag and everything."

There was a thick silence where all Paige could heard was Josh's breathing and the tapping of her fingers against the computer keys. There was still a small part of her that couldn't believe that this was happening, that she was trapped in a basement with the guy her best friend and her nutjob pals obsess over. 

"What are you even doing? You're typing too fast to be on tumblr," Josh said.

"I'm writing," Paige replied. Her fingers were a blurr across the keypad, her eyes scanning the screen as the words rushed across it. "I'm not on tumblr, I'm on wordpad."

"Right," the actor replied slowly, his tone giving away that he was slightly confused. 

Paige sighed and glanced up at him. "I write stories, especially when I'm bored. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not have to stare at pictures of your ass for who knows how long we're down here. It may be how your fans spend their time but it's not how I spend mine."

"Hutchers."

"Excuse me?"

"They're not fans, they're Hutchers," Josh said, sounding almost insulted. "They mean the world to me." 

Paige snickered. "If you haven't noticed, you're currently tied up in the basement of the craziest 'Hutchers' out there. Do they still mean the world to you now?" she asked. She was interested to hear what his response was, given that he did scream a lot about how they were all crazy when the flour bag got first pulled off his head. Was he really as dedicated to his fans as he claimed or was it all a facade?

"Well," Josh began, "your friends have obviously lost their way, somehow. Something has maybe happened that has made them cling to the closest thing they can find, a need for emotional attachment, maybe?" 

"Huh?" Paige frowned. "Emotional attachment? They're fanatics who are need serious medical help to aid them in living their lives without having you in it. They're . . . I don't know . . . they're just . . . crazy!"

"I wouldn't say crazy-"

"Don't start that," Paige interrupted. "You called me crazy when you thought I was the one who'd kidnapped you. What makes me different from the other three?"

Josh considered it, shifting in the seat with some limits of his bound wrists. "I just needed someone to yell at. I mean, I had spent god knows how long with a bag over my head, inhaling excess flour residue."

Okay, Paige could guess how frustrating that would be. "That still wasn't an excuse to yell at me, though," she said, feeling almost hurt.

"I know, and I'm sorry."