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."

Stefan held out his hand in attempt to help Aimee up.

"Are you human?" Aimee joked.

Stefan chuckled. "Can't a guy be nice?" he asked.

Not that nice, she thought to herself.

Aimee quickly grabbed his hand and stepped out of the car. Stefan pulled her close and smirked. She was still blushing, she could not help it. She stood upright on her feet and the two of them watched as Buckley drove the limousine off to underground parking. Stefan then escorted Aimee to the front door of the tall building that stood in front of them. They waited for Buckley at the top of the stairs.

"You know, I'd drive," said Stefan, "but the limousine is my dad's and he's a bit of a control freak."

"Yeah?" Aimee giggled.

Stefan raised his eyebrows and nodded wittily.

Buckley finally caught up with the two, he shouted from the bottom of the flight, instructing them to go inside. Stefan opened the front door and gestured Aimee in. She was very hesitant, but eventually walked through. He followed, leaving Buckley to trail. The three of them moseyed through the abandoned-looking entrance. There were tall plants and weeds growing on the walls. This was one of those buildings that just looked better from the outside. There was a single desk in the middle of the room, supporting a computer in a state beyond repair.

"This is the GINM," announced Buckley, "Global Institute of New Method."

"Smells like a compost garden," Aimee established while plugging her nose with her thumb and index finger.

Buckley headed towards an elevator to the left of the room. The elevator was labelled 'Out of Order,' but to Aimee's surprise, its doors gave way. Stefan held her hand as they shadowed Buckley, and the three strode in. Stefan's grasp was quite tight, but strangely, she did not mind.

The elevator halted and the doors gave way. Everything through those doors was so modern that Aimee could not believe she was in the same building. They were greeted by a lady in a tight bun and a fitted white suit. As the woman smiled at them, Stefan let go of Aimee's hand. He rushed over and gave the woman a tight hug. Aimee felt awkward and puzzled, but did not ask.

"This is Janet," presented Buckley. "She works here."

He pulled Stefan by the arm before he could let go of Janet. As Aimee, Buckley and Stefan walked away, she had a woeful look on her face. Aimee was more than confused, and once she turned her attention to Stefan, she noticed he was upset.

"Who is she really?" Aimee enquired.

Nobody replied. Not the first time and not the second.

"It's like I'm talking to a brick wall here," she sighed. "Now I know how I make Molly feel."

They halted at a room with a wide desk, a computer and many filing cabinets along the walls. Buckley left Stefan and Aimee alone inside and shut the door.

"I know you just got here, but I have to ask you a few personal questions," he arose.

"Like what?" Aimee shuddered.

"Where you were born, who're your parents, things like that," said Stefan.

Aimee faltered at first, but she nodded anyway. Stefan took out a clipboard from the filing cabinet drawer and sat at the desk. The moment Aimee sat down opposite him, he grabbed a pen and they began.

"First question, how old are you?"

"Turning eighteen in September," answered Aimee.

Stefan wrote down every word she said with his black pen.

"What are the names of your birth parents?" he queried.

"Benjamin and Abba."

"And your foster parents?"

"Clifford and Molly Griffiths... how did you know I have foster parents?" pondered Aimee.

"I guessed," perjured Stefan.

He continued. The questions poured out of his mouth, but when Aimee asked him something, she always felt as though his remarks were dishonest.

"That's all I need you to answer," uttered Stefan.

He dropped file #21, Aimee Isobel Whitaker, in the desk drawer and stood up. Stefan exited the room and warned Aimee to stay put. Slowly, she peeked over the desk before ignoring the command and pursuing him. He seemed unhappy about something and, even though it was none of her business, she cared to know what. She ran into the elevator he was waiting in. He said nothing about her disobedience; a part of him figured she would follow anyway. The doors closed and they were slowly lowered.

Stefan stared into the distance until the elevator doors unbolted. They were in the underground parking. Aimee had not breathed a word, and then they trod onward.

"What's on your mind?" she questioned. Stefan looked away without answering. As cute as he was, he was starting to get on Aimee's nerves.

"Why don't you answer any of my questions?!" she exclaimed.

"Someone's coming," he said.

"Oh, how convenient for you."

Stefan quickly put his hand over Aimee's mouth. She became both frightened and befuddled. If this was Buckley's building then why were they hiding? They stood behind a pillar and out of sight as a man in a black coat walked by. Stefan did not recognise him.

Moments later, the enigmatic man left. Stefan had not taken his hand back, so Aimee decided to lick it.

"Did you just do what I think you just did?" he lifted his hand away.

"Yes, I licked you," she answered. "Now who was that guy?" she asked.

"I don't know, but I need to take you home now," he elucidated. "I'll explain everything to you at school."

"Is this because I lick- whoa!"

Stefan picked her up, laid her over his shoulder and carried her across the parking lot. She pounded on his back, but he refused to let go. They approached his 2013 Volkswagen New Beetle, coated in candy yellow paint. He let her down on her feet and unlocked the car with one press of a button.

"Is this car yours?" questioned Aimee.

"One of mine," he said. "Hop in."

Stefan opened the passenger door and gave way for Aimee to enter, before shutting it again. He walked over to the driver's door and climbed in. He locked their doors, they buckled in, and at the turn of the key, they were off.