Chapter One

- Hamlet -

The alarm clock went off with the familiar monotonous and altogether unpleasing sound I knew so well. It was a sound I had long ago come to associate with glaring sunlight, work and the unnatural chill you feel when getting out of a warm bed, even in the middle of summer. Slamming my fist down on the top of the abhorrent machine I promptly rolled over and went back to sleep.

My second, less pleasant morning greeting came from my little sister Janie, whose interpretation of the phrase 'Janie go upstairs and wake your sister', was to rip the blankets off my bed and clap me around the head with my spare pillow.

"Janie, knock it off will you!" I yelled at her, grabbing the pillow and throwing it across the room in a vain attempt to hit her. With my eyes still blurry with sleep unsurprisingly I missed, but successfully knocked my pot of paintbrushes off my desk and sent them clattering across the floor.

I groaned. As if I didn't have enough to do today.

"No, I won't!" yelled Janie in her perky, high-pitched voice. "Mommy said to-"

"I know what she said," I butted in, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and failing to suppress a yawn. "It's just that sleep is way more important to me than breakfast, okay? Plus, it's Sunday. Can't you lay off it just once?"

Rolling over I tried to fall back to sleep, realising that it was now impossible.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," said Janie, quoting our mother in that way she always did.

I swear, sometimes when Janie was around it was like having a mini version of Mom in the room, only more annoying. She looked just like her too, with long hair that fell in an auburn sheet down her back, and glass-green eyes. I looked so different from the two of them, with my wavy black hair and bright blue irises. I always figured I must have gotten my looks from my father, though I couldn't be sure as I'd never met the man.

Jumping down off the bed, red hair flying, Janie grabbed my iPhone off my bedside table and began to meddle.

"Ooh! You were talking to Luke last night?" she asked putting on a sing-song voice as she tapped away at the screen.

Instantly I was wide awake. "Give that back! It's none of your business!" I yelled.

Bolting out of bed I tried to snatch the phone away, but damn her and her childish speed. She was out of my reach and out the door before I could stop her.

"Luke and Tori, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" she shrieked all the way downstairs with me in hot pursuit.

I only managed to catch up to her and wrench the damn thing out of her hands when we'd reached the kitchen where our mom was cooking breakfast. Dressed in jeans and her favourite Bon Jovi tour t-shirt, she was singing along to Dancing Queen on the radio.

"Mom, can you please tell Janie to keep her hands off my stuff," I moaned, hurriedly checking my phone and locking it. I knew it was too late however. Janie had seen the texts, still on the screen from last night, and now her head was filled with stupid gossip that she would spread around like chickenpox.

"Janie, leave your sister's things alone," Mom called over her shoulder. "It's rude to intrude on other peoples' personal business. Say you're sorry."

Janie grudgingly apologised to me, crossed her arms and pouted, obviously rather put-out at being reprimanded.

"And Victoria," my mom added, "be nice to your sister. She's only eight, she doesn't understand."

"Oh, yes she does," I muttered under my breath, tickling Janie under the arms and making her giggle.

"Did you invite Luke to dinner tonight?" Mom asked, now dishing out scrambled eggs onto plates.

"Yeah," I said. "He'd love to come. He might be a little late though. He's not sure what time his rehearsal finishes."

Mom nodded then directed Janie to collect cutlery from the draw under the microwave, and me to get the milk and orange juice from the fridge.

"I was thinking last night," Mom said slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on the bacon she was crisping in the pan.

I froze midway through pouring Janie a glass of orange juice and glanced up at my mother.

Her tone had changed and I knew that voice she was using. It was the voice my mom used when directing PTA meetings, or talking business on the phone to people at work.

It wasn't menacing or angry - quite the contrary. It was measured and eloquent, pleasant even. Nevertheless it always set you a little on edge. It was like dark clouds on the distant horizon, the promise of stormy weather to come if immediate action wasn't taken. When used it rarely brooked any argument, at least from most sensible people.

The fact that she was using it now could mean only one thing. She was going to start picking at the threads of the same disagreement we'd been having all summer vacation.

"What were you thinking?" I asked slowly, taking a seat and bracing for the typhoon of instructions, thinly vailed as recommendations, and passive aggressive disapproval heading straight for me.

"Well, I bumped into Delilah Jenson yesterday at the store and we got talking. She's the woman who owns that packaging company up in Chambersburg, and she said she was looking for someone to do some design work for her new brand."

"So, you've been job hunting for me, is that it?"

"Well, it never hurts to look, and Mrs Jenson knows you Victoria. She knows what a good artist you are, and she said she'd be more than willing to hold out a year and wait for you to graduate. The money's good, you can commute from here and save some money for a decent apartment when you finally want to move to New York."

It took a lot of effort for me not to roll my eyes.

With Luke and I both entering our senior year of college, and graduation looming up fast on the horizon, we'd started putting some serious consideration into our futures together.

Luke had been the one to originally suggest moving to New York. However, where Luke's parents were one hundred percent supportive of the move, Mom was talking slightly longer to come around to the idea. By which I mean she was point-blank refusing to accept that I wasn't coming back home after graduation. Now she seemed to have made it her mission to do everything in her power to dissuade me from it before I went back to Penn State.

But what could be said now that hadn't already been said a hundred times before? Her arguments and my defences were always the same. But there was no choice. I'd just have to do it again and hope sheer, pig-brained stubbornness would win out.

"Mom, we've been over this. New York is the most logical option for both of us. It's the best place for Luke to pursue his acting career, and the best place for me to look for jobs in graphic design. I'm not sure if you've noticed but there aren't a lot of opportunities in either of those professions in backwoods Pennsylvania right now."

"But it wouldn't have to be more than a year or two," Mom countered, as though she hadn't even heard me. "Then you could go to the city after if you still felt like it. And this would give you time to build up your portfolio, get some experience."

"And what about Luke?" I asked, getting annoyed now. "Even if I could come back here and work, he can't. Luke needs the city. He can't keep performing in local theatre productions after graduation. He needs the exposure in the city so he can get a good agent and better roles."

Mom was just about to make her rebuttal when my stepdad walked in from the garage.

"Morning!" Frank called cheerfully, wiping grease from his hands on a rag. He was wearing his old jeans and a checked flannel button-down, rolled up past the elbows. He must have been fixing the '72 Stang again.

"Daddy!" Janie squealed, running across the kitchen and launching herself at him. He caught her with a practiced ease that came with years of practice and hoisted her up in his arms, kissing her on the cheek.

"How's my little Princess doing today?" he asked, and ruffled his bushy brown moustache in her face, making her giggle.

He always called Janie his Princess. I was his Angel.

"Daddy, stop it!" Janie squealed, kissing him back.

"How's it going, Angel?" Frank asked coming around the table and bending down to kiss me too.

"Fine, Dad," I said merrily. "Mom's telling me why I shouldn't go to New York. Again."

"Frank," Mom said, turning to her husband for moral support. "Tell Victoria she's being silly. New York is so expensive, and it's too dangerous for her. It makes far more sense for you both to come home after graduation, get a temporary job and save up some more money for a decent apartment."

"Oh no, I'm not getting in the middle of this again," Frank said, dropping Janie into her seat and turning to Mom. "Anyway, you know what I think, Kat. Tori's nearly twenty-two. She's old enough to make her own decisions."

"I know how old she is, Frank. But I just don't think she should be rushing into these big life decisions without considering all her other options."

"Mom," I said, trying to get her attention and failing.

Mom continued unabated. "And I know she keeps saying about all these savings her and Luke have, but they aren't going to last long if they move to the city, especially with student loans to repay. I'm not saying they should never go to New York, but they don't need to rush into anything they may regret later."

"Mom?" Again, no response. I might as well have not been there.

"And anyway, she still has a year of college left Frank. That's a long time, a lot of things can change. She might decide she doesn't want to go to New York."

"Mom!" I said, finally cutting her off. "The bacon's burning."

Mom turned, argument forgotten, swore, and hurried over to where smoke was rising from the pan.

"Mommy said a bad word!" Janie yelled, just as the fire alarm started beeping.

"And Mommy knows you're never going to use it. Are you Janie?" Frank said, getting up on his chair to turn the alarm off.

Once the fire alarm had been reset, the bacon dished up onto plates and order restored, we sat down to breakfast. We listened to the radio, giving us the forecast for the week. Typical for Pennsylvania in August it was stuck firmly in the mid-eighties, with little to no chance of rain. Dad talked to Janie about what she was doing at camp today, and Mom told him about the errands that needed doing today.

"I've printed out a couple of vacancy postings," Mom said, as the radio turned over to the sport. "and I've had a look at the Penn State graduate programmes available in Chambersburg. I've left them on my desk in my office. Just promise me you'll look at them when you get back from work. It won't do any harm knowing what other options you have."

I considered arguing with her, but there really wasn't time. I was already pushing it to get to Luke's house before eight-thirty. So, grudgingly I agreed and once I'd finished eating I excused myself and ran upstairs to get ready for work.

I was getting dressed, and trying to think of an excuse to tell Mom tonight as to why I wouldn't have read the print-outs by tonight, when a flash of movement outside caught my eye.

Gathering my hair into a ponytail I went to the window. A police car had pulled up just across the road from our house. It sat there, no sirens or anything, and no one seemed to be getting out.

"Come on, Tori!" whined Janie's voice from downstairs. "We're gonna be late!"

"Okay, I'm coming," I said, grabbing my bag and heading downstairs to find Janie waiting for me with Dad, backpack already on over her camp uniform.

When I appeared, Janie, frantic to go, opened the door and was out like a shot, calling goodbye to Dad as she went.

As I made to hurry after her however, Frank stopped me. "You know your mom is just worried about you. That's why she's getting so passionate about this New York business all the time."

"I know, Dad," I said. "I just wish she'd give it a rest sometimes."

"I know," he said, smiling. "I'll have a word with her. See if I can't bring her around a bit."

"Thank you," I smiled in relief, letting him kiss my forehead. Then I watched as he headed back towards the garage and the powder blue Mustang.

"Mom, we're off!" I called into the house.

I heard Mom say goodbye from somewhere in her office, then add, "And we can talk about New York more over dinner tonight."

I inwardly groaned at the prospect of me, Dad, Luke and Mom going over the same argument for the thousandth time, but I made a noncommittal noise and closed the door behind me.

I wish I'd said something then. Anything.

Okay, Mom.

I'll see you later.

I love you…

If I'd known it'd be the last thing I'd say to her, I would've made it mean something.

The sun was glaringly bright as we began walking the half mile to the Foster's house, where I was getting a lift to work with Luke and Janie was catching the carpool to summer camp with Luke's Mom.

"You're coming to see my show right?" Janie asked, holding on tight to my hand as we crossed the road.

Janie was doing a play at summer camp next week and was playing some kind of Annie Oakley sharpshooter character that she was very proud of.

"Of course I'm coming," I said as we headed up the hill. "I wouldn't miss it for anything, Sis."

Janie smiled. "Good. Luke said he's going to help me with the acting stuff too. I've got lots of words to say. Lots and lots. And I have to learn them all. I'm not allowed the paper to hold."

I couldn't help but smile as she talked about the show and her costume and what braids she wanted to have. All animosity between me and my sister had evaporated now. I couldn't stay mad at her, no one could. She was just too gosh darn cute, and I loved her more than anything.

Just as we turned onto Oakhill Street I heard the sound of a car behind us.

Turning I was just in time to see the police car which had been parked opposite our house zoom across the junction, heading towards town.

"Do you think they're chasing someone?" Janie asked, standing on tiptoes to see it disappear around a corner.

"No sweetie. If they were they'd have the siren and lights on."

"Then what are they doing?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly, taking her hand again as we crossed the street and began the walk up the long, gravelled driveway towards Luke's house.

Janie had started humming and skipping as we walked, and was half way through '0Part of Your World' from 'The Little Mermaid' when we reached the big house on the hill.

Luke's parents' house was an old Georgian-style, red brick mansion with three floors, tall leaded windows and white painted shutters. It had been in Luke's family for generations and was even a national heritage site, since it was thought that George Washington had stayed there on several occasions during the revolution.

As we walked up the path I saw Mrs Foster waiting for us on the porch, Serena and Heather playing tag on the lawn out front. The twins were dressed in the same summer camp uniform as Janie, and would have been indistinguishable from one another if it wasn't for the ribbons in their hair. Serena's was a light yellow whereas Heather's was lilac.

"Good morning, Ms Caroline!" I called, waving as Janie ran off to say hi to her friends.

"Morning, Tori!" Caroline Foster said brightly, unlocking the sleek black Land Rover which stood in the drive automatically with a beep. The three small girls rushed to the car and the twins immediately began arguing over who got shotgun.

Watching them Caroline sighed in that way only tired and stressed mothers can. "Sorry sweetheart," she said to me with a sad smile. "Would love to chat but if I don't deal with this it'll be the start of World War three." And with that she promptly hurried off to settle the dispute.

"That's okay, Ms Caroline," I called after her. "Is Luke nearly ready yet?"

"Yes, he is," whispered a deep male voice very close to my ear.

I jumped in surprise and swung around to see Luke standing there in a white tee and jeans, doing his best to suppress his laughter.

"I told you to stop doing that!" I wheezed, whacking him on the shoulder with my bag.

"Sorry," he grinned, his short sandy hair falling lazily into his eyes as he leaned down to kiss me lightly on the lips. "But the look on your face every time is just priceless."

The beep of the car horn broke us apart and together we turned to see Caroline Foster pulling out of the drive. Being diplomatic about the situation Janie had been given shotgun and was waving at me through her open window.

"Eww! You two are gross!" she called, pulling a face.

"Love you too!" I shouted back, blowing her a kiss.

"Bye!" Luke called, and together we waved until they'd turned the corner out of sight. "So, how was your morning?" Luke asked as we both headed for his silver Volkswagen GTI.

"Pretty standard," I said casually. "Janie hit me with my pillow and stole my phone. You?"

Luke smiled as we got in the car and started the engine. "Oh, the usual. Tears and tantrums from six am. Serena stole Heather's hairband. Heather broke Serena's Barbie. Serena got more peanut butter on her toast than Heather so Heather wanted more milk in her cereal than Serena." He shook his head with exasperation. "And one minute they'll be fighting like two cats, and the next they're best friends again. It's insane. And then Mazie overslept and was having a fit about being late for cheerleading practice so Dad had to drive her."

I chuckled. "Well that's what you get when you have three younger sisters."

"Yeah, they're my dream come true," Luke said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I love them and all, and I know I'll miss them, but Jesus Christ, September can't come soon enough."

"And I suppose you aren't going to miss me either?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"I always miss you," he said, picking my hand up and kissing it. "But it's not like we don't see each other during college."

This was true. Luke and I had already planned nearly every weekend visit and holiday break for the next year. Whether it was me taking a greyhound bus to visit him in Pittsburgh at Carnegie Mellon, or him driving across the state in the VW to see me at Penn State, we always found time to see each other at least a couple of times each semester.

Between those and our nearly nightly Skype calls we managed the separation pretty well.

I'd known a lot of couples from High School who'd broken up after going to separate colleges. Most of the time it was because they hadn't been together long enough to create a lasting bond, or the communication had died. In the end they'd met other people and moved on. But although distance was difficult for Luke and I, somehow it was different for us.

Maybe it was because, although we'd only been dating a few months when we'd left for college, I'd already known Luke nearly my whole life.

Our mothers had met at a toddler playgroup when we were five and become instant friends, bonding over their mutual love of Bon Jovi, and from that point on Luke and I had pretty much grown up together. We'd gone to the same schools and camps, and our families had even gone on holiday together a couple of times.

He'd been one of my best friends.

But during our senior year of High School our relationship had subtly changed, so slowly even we hadn't really noticed it. We started spending more and more time alone together. Studying in his room, going to baseball games, going up to the woods to take walks.

Then one night Luke and I had gone to the movies and just before he dropped me off home he'd kissed me. Just like that. And when we'd kissed it'd felt like the most natural and wonderful thing in the world. Why, I thought, hadn't we done this sooner?

After that we'd just sort of slipped into dating. Our parents had been thrilled. Mom had actually squealed when I'd told her, which was unheard of from my mother.

And even though we spent most of the year living three hours apart instead of the accustomed five-minute walk, we coped. The separation was hard, of course. I missed seeing him every day. I missed being able to walk down the street to his house and play videogames or hang out in his room. But I loved him, and our friendship, which long predated us as a couple, gave our relationship another level. He was my best friend.

It was a lasting bond that I didn't think anything, not distance or time could ever break.

Right now though we were taking full advantage of the time we still had together. A few more weeks and we would be heading separate ways again, back to college and our senior year, and I wouldn't be seeing Luke again until Thanksgiving.

But all of that would change next year, I thought, smiling. This time next year we would be living together in New York, no matter what my mom said. No doubt living in some crappy little apartment with no furniture and noisy neighbours, but we'd be completely over the moon nonetheless.

Thinking about New York though reminded me of what my mother had said over breakfast. "Oh, just thought I'd warn you. My mom wants to talk about New York over dinner tonight."

Luke gave a dry, sarcastic laugh from the driver's seat as we turned a corner. "Well, that should be fun."

"Yeah. I know she means well," I said, "but I just wish she could just see it from our side, that's all."

"Well, you're mom's a fighter," Luke said, stopping at a red light. "And she's stubborn, like you. When she's got it into her head to argue over something. she doesn't generally back down."

"I am not stubborn."

"Yes Ma'am, whatever you say. Ow! Don't hit me." Luke chuckled as I swatted him on the shoulder again. "That's abuse you know. And I'm just telling it like it is."

I laughed and swatted him again, and Luke tried to tickle me under the arm.

A ceasefire was called as the light turned green, and as the laughter ebbed away we let the quiet creep back into the car, broken only by a woman on the radio talking about the heatwave that was due to hit Pennsylvania sometime next week.

When we reached the corner of West Pine and Centre Street, Luke parked the car.

"You're still okay to come to rehearsal after your shift?" he asked as we both got out. The hot swell of summer air hit me full in the face, and I could already feel myself sweating in my cotton blouse.

"Yeah, sure." I said, shooting him a sly smile. "Running lines isn't the worst detention in the world."

He smiled at my joke, then leaned over my car door to kiss me. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"Yeah, I know. That's thirty-seven now by the way."

"You keeping count?"

"Yep," I said happily. "And don't think I'm not going to cash in someday. So watch out."

"Well, if you ever need someone killed you know who to call."

Letting me go Luke turned and headed up the street towards the theatre and his rehearsal.

"I love you!" he called, waving back at me.

"Love you too," I said as I began walking the three blocks over to the Perfect Bloom Florists on Murray Avenue.

My shift that day went quickly enough, although dealing with the suppliers up in Williamsport and trying to get them to deliver on time was an exercise in futility. When half past twelve came I headed outside. I liked to sit on the small bench between the baskets of flowers, enjoying their scent in the shade of the awning as I ate my ham and cheese bagel.

Sitting there I let my mind wander.

I thought of the prospect of going back to start my final year of college in a few weeks. I thought about my dual major in graphic design and fine art, and the exorbitant amount of work both were going to need this year. I thought about Luke and my family, and started thinking about what else I could possibly say to Mom to convince her that going to New York wasn't the worst idea ever.

Just as I was finishing, a police car pulled up next to the curb directly across the road from where I was sitting. The burr of the engine cut, but no one made to get out. Whoever was inside just sat there.

I wondered dimly what they were doing, if they were the same police car from that morning.

And what were they doing here? Were they waiting for something?

I squinted, trying to see the people inside the car, but the sun's reflection in the front window was too bright to see anything.

"Tori! Can you come and help me move these?!" called a high, piping voice from inside the shop.

"Coming, Trish!" I said, packing up the remains of my lunch and heading back inside.

I forgot all about the cop car for the rest of my busy shift, and by the time I left to go meet Luke I didn't even notice that the car was gone.

It was ten past four by the time I made it over to the theatre. I didn't need to be told where to go. I just had to follow the sound of raised voices and banging hammers.

The local theatre group in our town was currently preparing for a production of Hamlet, and with opening night only two weeks away I wasn't surprised to find the place buzzing. The stage was covered in scraps of wood, power tools, tins of paint, brushes, offcuts, hammers, tubs of nails, and coils of rope. A cherry picker was being used to angle lights up in the rafters, while technicians yelled instructions at each other while looking over papers and plans spread across a fold-out table centre stage.

I spotted Luke straight away sitting in the second row of seats, feet resting on the first, surrounded by the water bottles, bags and the general paraphernalia dumped there by the rest of the cast and crew.

I hurried down the aisle between the rows of plush red seats and at the sound of feet Luke turned in his chair and motioned me to join him.

"This bit," he said, not bothering with a 'hello'.

I knew better than to take offence. When Luke was in actor-mode nothing could permeate his focus.

Handing me his well-thumbed script he pointed to a page of solid text highlighted in green. "It's the last bit I'm not off-script for, which is ridiculous seeing as it's probably the most famous monologue in English literature."

He got up from the chair and vaulted gracefully onto the stage, turning to face me. "I think I know it now though so just test me, and even if I get one word wrong make me start over, okay?"

"Alright," I said, dropping my bag and taking Luke's vacated seat.

Luke nodded, closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Then he began to recite in a fluid, crisp and beautifully acted voice.

"To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep…"

My eyes flickered like butterfly wings between the page and Luke's face, and as always I felt myself being drawn in by him. Just the way he spoke, the way his hands rose to illustrate the words, gave me chills. He was utterly captivating to watch, and as he spoke I noticed the other actors and stage hands pause in what they were doing to listen, their other work forgotten.

Luke had that effect on people. When he spoke he could freeze a room. When he acted you couldn't help but watch him. It was like a spell he spun with words, with such skill and dexterity. Like a spider with its web, creating beautiful patterns from thin air.

Anyone could read the words, but Luke could make you feel them, their weight, their power, their life. They resonated deep in your soul. He could make you cry, or laugh, or fall in love, all with just the power of his voice.

He was simply born to be an actor, and I adored him for it.

When he'd finished the monologue there was a moment's silence, where the room collectively seemed to hold its breath. Then the spell shimmered and fell away, and everyone around broke into applause.

Luke took no notice of them however. Instead he opened his eyes and looked down at me expectantly, as though my opinion was the only one which mattered.

I smiled. "Spot on. Not even a comma out of place."

He smiled back, but, ever the perfectionist, he didn't seem to believe me. Reaching down he took the script back and read it again, his brow furrowed as he mouthed the words.

And so, that was how we stayed for the next few hours. Luke remained on stage and acted out his scenes while I sat in the audience, reading in the other roles. Occasionally another actor or actress would come and join in, but one after another they all collected their bags from the around me and trickled away.

By half-past seven Luke had made me read the whole third act and the start of the first. The theatre was deserted now, everyone having long since gone home, leaving the auditorium looking like a bomb had recently hit it.

I stretched luxuriously as I finally got up, aching from sitting in the chair for so long, but Luke looked cheerful as he jumped down gracefully from the stage.

"Awesome," he said, slinging his bag over one shoulder and holding mine out for me. "I should be ready for next Saturday now."

He grinned at me, his face full of enthusiasm. I smiled back and together we climbed the stairs onto the stage and through the corridor which held the dressing rooms.

We were nearly at the stage door when Luke paused.

"What is it?" I asked, looking back over my shoulder at him.

"Hang on, I've just remembered something. Wait here." He turned and jogged back up the corridor. "There's something I want to give you."

"Ooh, a present? What is it?"

Luke didn't reply, just smiled as he ducked through a door on his left, returning a moment later holding something behind his back.

"Ok, close your eyes and hold out your hands."

I did as he asked and felt something light and flat placed into my outstretched palms. I opened my eyes to find a set of tickets in my hand.

There were four of them, all folded together and printed on thick glossy card in an elegant black font. There was also a programme.

"The tickets are for opening night." Luke explained, running a hand through his hair the way he did when he was slightly unsure of himself. "For you, Janie and your parents. I knew you hadn't bought yours yet. They're for the front row, right next to my parents."

"Luke these are wonderful." I beamed, unfolding the tickets to look at them. I was so touched that he would think of getting my tickets for me, especially at the prices front row tickets cost, and I told him as much.

"But you know, I'd be happy sitting anywhere," I added. "It doesn't really matter to me, as long as I get to see you."

Reaching out Luke took my hand in his. "But I want to see you."

I frowned. "Why?"

He blushed a little at that, and for a second he couldn't look me in the eye. It was like he was a nervous teenager again. Then he let go of my hand and pointed at the programme. "Look at the middle page," he said.

A little confused, I opened the programme and scanned the page. The first thing I saw was Luke's picture, topping his biography. It was one of the professional black and white headshots I'd paid for him to have done as one of his birthday presents last year.

I smiled at it. He looked so serious and professional staring into the camera, not like my Luke at all. Not the boy who'd chased me round the garden with a frog when we were seven, or who'd climbed trees with me in the summer, or who'd sat and read me X-men comics when I was sick.

This photo and the biography were all most people would ever know of him. Just a handsome, talented man speaking lines on a stage. They would never know the Luke I did, and having that part of him all to myself was something I secretly treasured.

My eyes fell from the picture to his biography. In it he talked about his education, how he was currently studying acting at Carnegie Mellon, and finally followed by the prerequisite list of acting credits. I was just about to close the programme when I saw it, the thing Luke had wanted me to see. Right at the end of his bio were two lines added in brief, fluid italics.

Everything I am is because of you.
My angel. My muse. My Tori.

"Luke…" I whispered, staring at the page, completely at a loss for words.

"I know we don't have long left before college starts," Luke said, "And it's senior year, so I know we're both going to be busy and we're not going to see each other as much."

He leaned down, cupping my cheek with one large, tanned hand. "I know this is going to sound really stupid and corny, Tori, but when I'm away I want to be able to imagine your face. I want to have the memory of you, sitting in the front row on opening night. Wearing that black dress you think makes your arms look fat, but actually makes you look like Audrey Hepburn. I want to see you watching me act, so I can imagine you sitting in the front row of every show I do while I'm away. That way you'll always be there, and I can remember the reason I'm doing any of this."

"And what reason's that?" I whispered through the lump in my throat.

"Because it was you who first said I should be an actor, when I played Emile in South Pacific back in ninth grade. Plus, because I love the look on your face when I amaze you."

My heart was pounding and I felt tears in my eyes. Going up on my toes I kissed him, soft and gentle and full of all the love I felt for him.

"You don't need to be on a stage to amaze me, Luke," I whispered as I broke the kiss. "You've done that every day since we were kids."

Then I kissed him again, and he kissed me back, his arms winding around my back, drawing me into him.

I could smell his aftershave, taste the coffee he'd been drinking. I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning into him, deepening the kiss. I opened my mouth and let his tongue tangle with mine.

After a minute he extricated himself from me, breaking the kiss. "Come on, in here."

He took my hand and pulled me up the corridor and through the door he'd disappeared into before.

Closing and locking the door behind us he pulled me around, pressing me back against it and kissing me hard again. I could feel the deeper passion in it now, the desperate need we both felt rising as we were released from our inhibitions. Luke's hands began roaming my body, sliding over the curve of my hips and cupping my backside. I dropped the tickets and programme and let my hands slide up the hard muscle of his chest, over his shoulders and into his hair. I pulled on the wavy strands the way I knew he liked, the way I knew really turned him on.

He hissed through his teeth and suddenly he stooped and hoisted me up off the ground. Almost without thinking I wrapped my legs tight around his hips and let him hold me there, back pressed up against the coarse wood of the door, my hands still in his hair as his lips left mine to trail kisses down my neck.

I could feel the heat of his body through our clothes. The feel of him was incredibly arousing, and I felt passion building between my legs where they pressed against Luke's abs.

I was panting now, head back, eyes tight shut. The touch of his lips on my skin was like electricity and I gasped as his teeth found my ear, nipping at the sensitive flesh there and sending a tremor down my spine.

Suddenly he took my full weight, lifting me away from the door and across the room.

When he put me down again I opened my eyes and finally realised where we were. The wall behind Luke was lined with costume racks crammed with suit bags and hangers. Turning my head to the right I saw I was sitting on the end of a long dressing table, a set of lighted mirrors at my back, the yellow neon glowing dimly.

"This is your dressing room?" I breathed.

"Yeah," Luke said, pausing in his ministrations on me to whisper in my ear. "I've been fantasizing about bringing you here ever since I got given it."

"Why?" I asked, but the word became a moan as Luke's hand travelled up my waist to cup one of my breasts, squeezing and toying with it through the fabric of my blouse.

"Because the bench is the perfect height."

This was true. Sitting on the long table I was perfectly level with Luke's hips, and he illustrated the point by pressing his weight into me so I could feel the swell of him inside his jeans.

"Luke… what if someone comes in?"

"The door's locked," he said, trailing a hand up my thigh, dragging up the hem of my skirt. "No one's going to find us in here. Everyone's already gone home for the night. Besides," and he shot me a wicked grin, "You've gotta admit it would be really sexy sitting here on opening night, knowing that we've made love on my dressing table."

I bit my lip, feeling my heart fluttering in my chest. There was a moment's hesitation before I smiled and kissed him again.

My consent duly received, his hands went to the buttons of my blouse, unfastening them with quick and practiced efficiency.

Slowly we undressed each other. Layers of fabric that seemed so necessary in the world outside were tossed carelessly away in favour of what waited beneath.

There was something so simple and freeing in this, I thought as I pulled Luke's shirt off over his head. Something that was lost when the needs and cares of everyday life took control. Outside of this room everything was so complicated – College, New York, our families and commitments – but right now none of it mattered. All that existed was this, the two of us together. Just the simple pleasure of knowing another person's body. Of feeling their heat, the whisper of their breath against your skin. Of touching someone, exploring them, and letting them do the same to you in return.

When all but skin was left between us Luke began trailing kisses down my stomach. I purred with satisfaction at the feeling. Then slowly he knelt on the floor between my legs, his kisses hot on my thighs as he hooked my knees over his shoulders and his mouth found the part of my body that ached for him most.

The sensation when it came was almost unbearable, and when his tongue found that sensitive point, that coil of pleasure, I leaned my head back and moaned with it.

"Oh god…" I breathed, burying a hand in his soft brown hair, urging him deeper as the heat began to build.

Luke looked up, capturing my eyes, but his tongue didn't relinquish its unyielding attack on me. On the contrary, he quickened and added his fingers, rubbing, stroking, entering.

It was maddening, my head spinning with pleasure.

I clapped a hand over my mouth as I was finally thrown over the edge, hips bucking wildly.

"You're getting very good at that," I panted when the waves of ecstasy receded, leaving me shaking and sated yet still yearning for more.

"I aim to please," Luke smiled, standing up to kiss me on the mouth again.

He tasted of sex and sweat and coffee.

I'd never been one to take without giving in kind, so slowly I worked my hands down until I took hold of him in my hands, stroking, playing, teasing.

Luke leaned his head forward deepening the kiss, his tongue flitting across mine.

"God, you're getting good at that too," he moaned, bracing his hands on the mirror behind me as his breath became ragged and short.

When he was twitching in anticipation I bent down to my discarded handbag, my hand still stroking back and forth, and pulled out a condom from the inside pocket. Ripping it open I slid it over his length, then, pulling me close, Luke guided himself inside me.

My mind blurred as we moved together, the only thing I could hear was our shared breathing and the beating of our hearts. The slow, erotic rhythm of our bodies as he thrust, and soft moans escaped my lips without me trying to stop them.

Right now, right here, we knew each other in a way no one else did. Looking into his eyes and seeing the same love mirrored in them as my own.

I whispered half-nonsense words to him there in the semidarkness, muttering his name again and again as we moved as one.

Then he'd pulled out and I felt his hands trying to turn me.

I obliged, setting my feet on the floor and bending over the table.

I felt the heat of his body behind me a moment before he buried himself inside me again, grabbing my hips and taking a more ferocious pace. Turning my head I let him bury his face against my neck.

Opening my eyes I could see our reflection in the tall mirror.

The sight of my face, flushed with exertion and passion. Luke bent over me, his broad, tanned shoulders rippling with muscle as he kissed my neck, gripping my waist as he buried himself in me over and over again. It was all so overwhelmingly sexy. I let my hand fall between my legs, to the place where our bodies met, rubbing the sensitivity there which ached to be satisfied.

Behind me Luke's pace quickened, become rougher, more needful. I welcomed it. I wanted from him everything he could give as the undeniable pleasure built in me again.

His back arched over me just as I called out his name again. Blood pounding through my ears, pleasure crashed through me. The momentary tension, followed by those precious seconds where we simply held each other and nothing else in the world mattered but each other.

Luke let his head droop, pressing it into my shoulder, panting like a well-run horse.

My heart was hammering, an intoxicating mixture of exhaustion and pure bliss surrounding and engulfing me.

I turned around, straightening up, letting my hands trace their way up his torso. We were both slick with sweat, our bodies shining in the dim light. The damp curls of sandy hair on Luke's chest bristling under my fingers.

I leaned up and kissed him.

Then I heard it.

Feet on floorboards.

There was someone in the corridor.

We both froze and listened as the sound of footsteps drew closer then paused outside the door.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, neither Luke nor I daring to breathe.

Then there came a knock, hesitant and unsure. "Um… Luke? Are you in there?"

Luke closed his eyes and mouthed a silent curse.

"Yeah. I'm here, Yvonne," he called over his shoulder.

"Oh…" The voice sounded almost surprised. "Good. I thought I saw your car outside. I was just wondering if I could grab you quickly. I wanted to do a final fitting of your costumes. We're running behind and I'd like to get all your stuff done before Saturday if possible. Do you have a minute?"

Luke looked at the door, then at me, and then down at himself, dripping with sweat and completely naked. "Um… Yeah, sure. I'll be out in a sec. Hang on."

I had to clap my hand over my mouth to stop myself laughing as Luke scrabbled around, pulling on his clothes.

"No one will find us, huh?" I whispered.

"Shut up," he hissed back, thrusting my bra and blouse at me. "And get dressed."

Smiling at him I dressed silently, searching out my discarded underwear and shoes from under the dressing table.

"I'm going to go see what she wants," Luke whispered, pulling his shirt back on where it clung tight to his sweat drenched back. "When we're gone, head outside. I'll meet you with the car on the corner by the town hall."

I nodded and leaned in to give him one final kiss. "Don't be too long, we've got to get back to mine for dinner remember."

He muttered another curse. "I know. I won't be long."

There came another knock at the door.

"Luke," Yvonne's muffled voice said from the other side of the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just coming," he called to her, then to me he whispered, "I'll be ten minutes, tops."

Then he left, closing the door behind him.

I heard him apologising to Yvonne as they walked away back towards the theatre.

"Um… why are you so sweaty?" I heard Yvonne ask.

"I was working out," Luke explained, cool as a cucumber. "I don't have time to go to the gym so I exercise in the dressing room sometimes. It's-"

The conversation was sharply cut off by the sound of another closing door and I was left in silence again.

Well it wasn't exactly a lie, I thought, though I doubted it was what most people would call a conventional work out.

The thought made me giggle.

Straightening my clothes and fixing my makeup in the mirror I counted a couple of minutes in my head. Then opening the dressing room door I checked the corridor was empty and headed for the stage door at the back of the theatre, slipping out silently into the balmy twilight.

Turning left I walked away down the quiet and deserted streets towards the town hall.

I smiled to myself as I walked and thought about me and Luke. Slowly I raised my hand to my slightly swollen lips. They still tingled, a lingering reminder of his lips on mine. My heart sighed at the memory of him. Even after all the years we'd been together he could still make me feel like a love-struck kid again.

I only half-noticed the police car that past me, heading in the other direction, but I was too caught up in memories of what had just happened in the dressing room to pay it much mind.

It wasn't until the car turned around in the road and pulled up to the curb next to me that I really became aware of it.

I paused, unsure, looking around for the reason they had stopped. At this time on a Sunday night all the shops around were closed, and I was alone on the street. As the car came to a halt the passenger door opened and a cop with a thick brown moustache stepped out, one hand on his hat, the other on his belt where I was unnerved to see a gun holstered.

"Excuse me, Ma'am," he said with a strong southern drawl, tipping his hat to me. "But can I ask your name?"

However nicely he spoke I knew it wasn't a question. It was a command.

"Um… Victoria Allison Beaumont?" I said, uncertainly. I was so nervous I momentarily wondered if even my own name was right.

The cop nodded and took a couple of steps towards me.

I took a step back, suddenly confused. I didn't know what was going on.

"W-what's this about?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and my heart beating at a normal speed. "I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"

"No you haven't done anything wrong, Miss Beaumont," said the driver, who had also gotten out now and was walking around the bonnet to join his fellow.

He was dressed the same as the first, the black uniform with the Pennsylvania state crest on the sleeves, shiny black shoes and his police badge glistening on his chest.

"We just need you to come with us and answer a few questions," the driver continued, smiling. "We're performing an investigation which we believe you'll be able to assist us with."

The cop with the moustache nodded again and opened the back door of the police car, holding it open for me. "If you'd get in please, Ma'am."

I opened my mouth and tried to speak, closed it again, then managed to mutter. "My boyfriend. He… he's catching me up. He won't know where I've gone." I took another step backwards, further up the road, reaching into my pocket for my phone. "I should really call him and…"

"Sorry Miss," interrupted the driver in a sharp voice, making me freeze. "But this is a very important matter, and we can't wait for your boyfriend. We need you to come with us now, if you please."

"We'll also need you to give us your cell phone," the man with the southern drawl added, holding out his hand palm up.

I tried to say something, tried to think of some other excuse, but I couldn't. They were the police, I didn't dare disobey them. I felt myself nodding as I gave him the phone and felt my feet moving me towards the open door of the police car.

I slid into the back seat silently and had the door slammed closed in my face, making me jump. As I buckled my seatbelt I also saw the back of the car had no handles on the inside, not even buttons to open the windows.

I swallowed hard and sat back in my seat, trying my best not to think about it.

Up front the two cops got back into their seats, buckled up and pulled away from the curb heading west. There were no sirens or lights. They weren't even speeding. It was just as if there was nothing strange going on at all.

I sat there feeling slightly sick, my heart pounding somewhere in my gut with nerves.

"Um… please," I muttered leaning forward to talk to the cops through the metal mesh that separated us. "I really don't know what's going on. I haven't done anything. Where are we going?"

From the front seat the cop with the moustache turned and smiled back at me. I noticed as he did so he seemed to be wearing brown-coloured contact lenses. That too-regular pattern of the irises looked dull and flat under the florescent lights of the police car, lacking warmth and emotion, like the eyes of a taxidermy animal.

"We just need to talk in a safe, secure location Ma'am," he said. "If you'll cooperate with us and remain calm we can get this over and done with as quickly as possible. Then we can bring you back to meet your boyfriend. Okay?"

Then with that he turned around and the car went silent again.

As we drove I kept my eyes lowered, looking intently at my hands which wrung each other in nervous anticipation. My mind was racing. In my heart I felt guilty, though I knew I'd done nothing to make me feel that way. Like a criminal accused of a crime they hadn't committed.

What the hell did these cops want from me? They hadn't given me any details, any explanations.

Perhaps they thought I'd witnessed something, and wanted me to give a statement. I racked my brain, but I couldn't think of anything I'd seen which could be considered a crime.

Maybe it had something to do with Luke…

Could they have known about what we did in the dressing room? Public indecency was a crime, but surely there was no way they could know about that. No, I thought, shaking my head. This was stupid. We hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Unable to reason any of it my thoughts wandered back to Luke.

Surely he'd be at the Town Hall by now, waiting for me, wondering why it was taking me so long to walk three blocks across town. God, how was I going to explain this to him? Plus, we had to get back for dinner. Mom would be getting annoyed that we were already running late, thinking I was doing it on purpose to avoid talking about New York again.

I wondered if the cops would let me text Luke and tell him I'd be late, and was just about to ask when the car suddenly stopped.

I looked up and stared at the view out of my window.

We were in what looked like an abandoned field. All around the circumference tall trees and bushes pressed black against the navy sky, obscuring anything there might have been to see beyond the wire mesh fences. Long grasses bent and swayed their cattails in the wind, and stretching into the distance large concrete and tarmacked areas fanned out, like old landing strips.

"Where are we?" I asked, leaning forward to talk to the police again. I'd never seen a place like this before, and had no idea where we were. Had we crossed the county line? "I thought you were going to take me to a police station or something?"

I didn't get an answer. Instead the driver cut the engine and the two of them got out, slamming the doors shut.

The silence returned inside the car and real fear was setting in now, along with the brazen reality of my current situation.

I was miles from home with no idea how I'd gotten here, in the company of two policemen who had picked me off the streets with little to no explanation. The whole premise of it was mad.

All I wanted right then was to be at home with my family, watching a film on the sofa with Dad's arm around me, just so I felt safe.

Biting my lip anxiously I watched as the two cops exchanged words outside. I couldn't hear them but after a moment the driver laughed and nodded, walking off out of sight.

The cop with the southern drawl returned to the car and opened my door.

"Please get out of the car, Miss Beaumont," he said, offering me a hand and a smile. For some reason I didn't like the way he smiled, but not knowing what else to do I took the hand and got out.

"Alright then," he said. "Now will you please follow me?"

I didn't really follow so much as was led away from the car, the cop keeping a hand on my shoulder as he steered me along.

Ahead of us a low black shape sat hunched against the ground, the curve of its back arching towards the rapidly darkening sky.

It wasn't until we got closer that I realised it was an aeroplane hangar.

It was old, probably built sometime around the Second World War from the looks of it. The huge sheet metal walls shed white paint in flakes as large as dinner plates, revealing the dark red streaks of rust beneath and which ran like blood from the gashes and gaping holes in its pale body.

Maybe it had been an outpost of the Letterkenny Army Depot over in Franklin County, I thought. The tarmacked aeroplane runways stretching into the distant darkness would make this a great place to transport supplies from.

But I still couldn't understand why I was here.

This place must have been abandoned for years, I thought, staring up at the giant faded number '7' on the doors of the hangar. Weeds grew up between cracks in the concrete, and more than once I stumbled in the gloom on a hidden ridge or pothole.

What possible reason could these men have for bringing me here?

At that moment, we reached the hangar and entered through the huge metal doors which stood ajar. I was stunned when I saw a sleek, white jet waiting there in the semidarkness, the police driver standing at the bottom of a flight of stairs leading up to the open door. He'd discarded his hat now and was smiling encouragingly at me.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath sharp and sporadic. A trickle of cold sweat ran down my spine and my knuckles were white on the straps of my handbag.

A thousand crazy thoughts had been flying through my head in the back of that cop car, but suddenly everything was clear and a lead weight fell through my stomach as realisation hit me.

These men weren't cops.

"Is everything alright, Ma'am?" The man beside me asked, and I realised only then that I'd stopped dead, frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

Fear swelled inside me. What the hell had I gotten myself into? What the hell had I been thinking coming along with these men? Oh god, what did I do?

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Miss Beaumont," the moustachioed cop said, placing a hand on the small of my back and trying to urge me forwards. "We're only here to help you."

But I wouldn't move. When the cop tried to push me again I suddenly came back to myself, and did the only thing that made sense to me.

Spinning on a heel I lifted my handback and swung it with all my strength into the muchachioed cops' face. There was a wet cracking sound. The man let out an oaf of pain, his hands flying to his nose which was streaming blood. Then, without a seconds' hesitation I dropped my bag, turned and ran for my life.

"She's sussed us, William!" yelled the driver behind me. "Grab her!"

I felt a hand claw at my shoulder, but slick with warm blood, it couldn't get a grip. I slipped free, pelting out the hangar door and across the tarmac outside, panic and fear flooding my body with adrenaline.

I heard cursing and the sound of hurried footsteps chasing me but I didn't dare look back.

I ran for all I was worth, faster than I'd ever run before in my life. All I could think about was getting away.

Far off to my right I saw a high mesh gate with barbed wire circling the top. I changed direction and headed for it. If I could just reach it maybe I could get to a road with other cars, find someone who could save me.

Two hundred feet away.

I couldn't breathe. I staggered over the uneven ground, just running blind. Behind me I could hear my pursuers gaining on me.

One hundred feet.

I kept running, thinking of home. I thought of Janie, of Luke, of college and the life I had to get back to, the people I loved who needed me.

Just fifty more feet.

But I wasn't a runner, and in the end I just wasn't fast enough.

A large hand was suddenly vice-like around my wrist and I screamed. The cop with the moustache had me and nearly wrenched my shoulder from its socket as he yanked me back, wrapping his other arm painfully tight around my waist and lifting me bodily off my feet.

I screamed, I clawed, I kicked and I bit at the hand on my wrist. I fought like a fury, like a demon possessed. The heel of my foot connected with something hard and fleshy, and my captor swore loudly, but nothing would make the arms relinquish his hold on me.

I didn't notice the driver catch up until a third hand came out of nowhere, grabbing a firm hold of my jaw and forcing my head to the side.

I felt something sharp and cold pierce the skin of my neck.

Then I felt the cold seeping into my skin from the point of the hypodermic needle. My heartbeat instantly begin to slow and my breathing eased up as the world around me became a blur of shadow and indigo sky.

I still struggled, but my attempts were becoming weak and pathetically futile.

I began to cry, feeling hot tears streaming down my face against my will.

No. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be.

"Come on you little bitch, pass out already," one of the fake police officers said, though I couldn't tell which.

My head span, and suddenly my eyes were finding it hard to focus. Everything started to feel heavy and thick, as though I was viewing the world from underwater.

When my body went limp, and I no longer had the strength to fight them, I felt myself being hoisted into a fireman's lift over a shoulder and carried back towards the hangar.

"Jesus Christ. I don't get paid enough for this," panted the driver.

"Shut up, Devan. At least the cunt didn't break your nose," drawled my other kidnapper, spitting a gobbet of something onto the ground. "And where the fuck were you when she was clawing the shit out of me, huh?"

"Hey, ain't my fault she's got some fight in her."

The two men continued to argue, but my mind could no longer make sense of their words.

My last thoughts before the blackness took me was of Luke. He would be waiting for me, probably driving around town trying to find me right now.

My parents would be waiting at home.

Mom would be sitting in the kitchen, annoyed that the dinner was getting cold.

But I knew it was a dinner I would never get to eat.