Amelia was adding the final touches to her makeup when her phone chimed again—it was Jonathan, her date for the night. He’d sent a charming selfie with the caption, “Can’t wait to see you tonight!”
Amelia replied with a quick “Me too!” as a blush crept up her cheeks. She hadn’t been on a date in ages, and just the act of getting ready filled her with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.
With a spritz of perfume, she took one last look in the mirror, feeling genuinely happy at the thought of meeting this adorable guy in person. But what Amelia didn’t realize was that the date she was eagerly anticipating would soon unravel into one of the worst nightmares of her life.
Amelia sat on her bed, staring at her phone with a mixture of reluctance and determination. Just a few months ago, she had ended a six-year relationship with her high school boyfriend—the person she once thought she would marry.
At 24, she found herself alone, grappling with the reality of starting over. The breakup had been messy, a painful unraveling of what she believed was her forever. They had grown apart and eventually, it became clear that love alone wasn’t enough to keep them together.
The weight of those six years still clung to her, making the prospect of dating again feel daunting. But after months of wallowing, Amelia decided it was time to move on. Her friends had been urging her to try online dating, assuring her it would be fun and a good distraction.
So, with a deep breath, she downloaded the app, hoping for a fresh start. The app was overwhelming at first. Swiping through profile after profile, she was met with a parade of uninspiring faces and lackluster introductions.
She winced at the poorly lit selfies, the predictable shirtless photos, and the cliché bios filled with fishing and gym obsessions. Each swipe left her with a dull ache in her heart as to what her love life had become.
Amelia’s initial excitement faded as she scrolled through the endless sea of forgettable profiles. She found herself frustrated, questioning if she was even ready for this. It felt like a chore, and she almost considered deleting the app altogether when Jonathan’s profile appeared.
Jonathan’s profile stood out among the rest. He had a disarming smile, a confident yet approachable style, and his responses to the app’s prompts were clever and thoughtful. He wasn’t trying too hard; he didn’t need to. Amelia couldn’t help but feel intrigued.
It was a refreshing change, especially after her last date disaster. A couple of weeks earlier, Amelia had reluctantly met someone whose profile seemed decent enough. But in person, the date quickly turned awkward and uncomfortable, leaving her disappointed and frustrated.
The guy was self-absorbed, talking endlessly about himself without any interest in her. His jokes fell flat, and his condescending remarks made her cringe. When he insisted on ordering for her, choosing a salad, she felt insulted and boxed in.
Throughout the night, he peppered their conversation with outdated, sexist comments. He interrupted her repeatedly, dismissing her opinions with a casual wave. Amelia felt invisible, her excitement dwindling with each passing minute. The evening dragged, and she couldn’t wait to escape.
As she walked home that night, Amelia questioned her decision to try dating apps. The experience had left a bad taste in her mouth, making her wonder if she was ready to put herself out there again. She felt deflated, vowing to be more careful.
But then she found Jonathan’s profile. His interests felt genuine, and his responses revealed a thoughtful, engaging personality. He talked about traveling, cooking, and even mentioned his favorite books. For the first time in weeks, Amelia felt a flicker of excitement. She swiped right.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly from the get-go. Jonathan was attentive, asking questions that made her feel seen, like he genuinely wanted to know her. When she shared about her breakup, he offered sweet reassurances and comforting words, which she appreciated deeply.
A couple of weeks passed, and their connection only deepened. Jonathan suggested meeting in person, and since they had already talked over FaceTime, Amelia agreed without hesitation. They chose a cozy bar, conveniently close to her place, which made her feel safer.
Amelia spritzed on her favorite perfume, hoping the night would go well. She felt a flutter of hope, wondering if this date might be different from the last. She stepped out, her heart light, eager yet cautious about what the night would bring.
The bar was lively, buzzing with a warm atmosphere. As Amelia walked in, she spotted Jonathan at a corner table, looking relaxed and confident. He was dressed sharply, his smile widening as he saw her approach, making her feel instantly at ease.
Jonathan greeted her warmly, complimenting her outfit and pulling out her chair with a gentlemanly flair. His manners were impeccable, and Amelia felt her nerves settle as they began talking. His charm was effortless, like someone used to making others feel comfortable.
Their conversation flowed easily. Jonathan was a natural conversationalist, mixing clever jokes with genuine interest in her thoughts. Amelia found herself laughing more than she had in months. He listened intently, as if she were the only person in the room.
For the first time in a while, Amelia felt her walls starting to crumble. Jonathan’s attentiveness and charm made her feel valued and understood. It was a refreshing change from her last date, where she had felt belittled and unseen.
Jonathan listened closely, asking thoughtful questions that went beyond small talk. Amelia appreciated how he seemed to care about her answers, not just waiting for his turn to speak. She felt a growing sense of ease, letting her guard down bit by bit.
Amelia was glad the date was going well, and her initial jitters began to fade. In an attempt to calm her nerves, she had gulped down her drinks a little too quickly, feeling the warmth spread through her as she relaxed into the evening.
However, as the evening progressed, subtle cracks began to appear in Jonathan’s perfect veneer. The first came when the waiter approached to take their orders. Jonathan’s easy-going smile remained, but his tone shifted to something sharp and impatient.
At first, he corrected the young server’s on the pronunciation of a wine. And then later, he called him useless when the server couldn’t understand the demands and failed to recommend a good wine within his budget range.
Amelia noticed the flicker of discomfort in the waiter’s eyes, and it made her stomach tighten. It was a small moment, but it lingered with her. Trying to brush off the unease, Amelia continued the conversation, though a shadow of doubt lingered in the back of her mind.
Jonathan’s stories, while entertaining, occasionally lacked coherence. He spoke of his job in finance with such passion, but when pressed on details, his answers grew vague, and he quickly shifted topics with a charming smile that was hard to resist questioning further.
As the evening progressed, Jonathan’s demeanor shifted in subtle, unsettling ways. He leaned in a bit too close, and his compliments began to feel overly scripted. Amelia brushed it off, attributing it to nerves—perhaps Jonathan was just as anxious about the date as she was.
Amelia felt a bit uneasy about the whole situation, but considering this was just her second date since ending her six-year relationship, she dismissed her discomfort. She reassured herself that she was probably overthinking things, chalking it up to first-date jitters.
However, as the night progressed, another major red flag emerged when Jonathan began steering the conversation towards deeply personal topics. While some questions felt natural, others were probing, cutting too close to wounds she wasn’t ready to share.
As the conversation flowed, Jonathan leaned in and remarked, “You’re such a great artist, Amelia. I can see the passion in your eyes.” Amelia froze. She hadn’t mentioned her art to him, nor had she shown him any of her sketches.
A chill ran down Amelia’s spine. Seeing the flicker of confusion in her eyes, Jonathan quickly backtracked. “Oh, you mentioned buying paint the other day, remember? I just assumed you were into art,” he added with a smooth laugh, his tone easy and reassuring.
Amelia forced a smile, nodding slowly, but her mind buzzed with uncertainty. The explanation didn’t sit right; it felt like a convenient cover for something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Trying to mask her unease, Amelia excused herself to the bathroom.
As soon as she shut the door behind her, she leaned heavily against the sink, her breaths coming in shallow, uneven bursts. Staring at her reflection, she tried to steady her racing thoughts, her heart pounding in her chest.
In the quiet of the restroom, Amelia whispered to herself, “It’s just jitters. He’s nice, maybe a bit intense, but that’s not a crime.” She splashed water on her face, hoping to clear her head. But the nagging feeling persisted, and her reflection seemed to challenge her reassurances.
Amelia took several deep breaths, trying to push the unease away. Jonathan’s behavior, though odd, hadn’t crossed any major lines. She reminded herself that not everything was perfect on a first date; people had flaws, and she didn’t want to jump to conclusions based on her own anxieties.
She adjusted her dress, smoothed her hair, and told herself to give Jonathan a fair chance. It wouldn’t be right to judge him based solely on her own fears. After gathering her resolve, Amelia stepped out of the bathroom, her smile carefully put back in place.
As Amelia made her way back to the table, her nerves were still raw from her moment in the restroom. Just as she neared, she heard Jonathan’s voice, tense and hushed. She paused, hiding behind a pillar, straining to hear him clearly.
“Yes, she’s here,” Jonathan said, his voice tight with urgency. Amelia’s breath caught. She leaned in closer, her heart pounding in her ears. “I got to go, I think she’s coming back” The words made her blood run cold.
Panic flared in her chest, her thoughts racing with questions and fear. What was he talking about? And who was on the other end of the line? She felt the ground shift beneath her, everything she thought she knew now tinged with a sinister edge.
She wanted to turn and run, to flee the bar without looking back. But her purse was still on the table. She couldn’t leave without her wallet; it wasn’t just the inconvenience—it was her lifeline, her connection to safety.
Amelia took a shaky breath, forcing herself to walk back to the table, her movements deliberate and steady. She tried to mask the panic thrumming in her veins, pasting a smile on her face as she approached Jonathan.
Sitting down, Amelia felt like she was moving through a fog, her mind whirling with possibilities and plans. She needed to play it cool, to not give away her suspicions. “Everything okay?” she asked, keeping her voice light, hoping it sounded normal despite the frantic beating of her heart.
Jonathan nodded, his smile never wavering. “Oh, just a work thing,” he said dismissively, waving a hand as if to brush the conversation away. “Nothing important.” But Amelia noticed the tension in his jaw, the slight twitch in his fingers as he set his phone down.
Amelia’s eyes flickered to her purse on the table. She needed it, but how could she grab them without arousing his suspicion? Her mind raced with escape plans, but each one felt risky. She couldn’t afford to panic; she needed to act like everything was fine.
“Sorry I took so long,” Amelia said, forcing a casual laugh as she reached for her glass, her fingers trembling slightly. She hoped Jonathan wouldn’t notice the crack in her composure. She needed to stall, to buy herself time to figure out her next move.
Jonathan continued talking, his voice smooth and unbothered, but Amelia’s mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of fear and doubt. He leaned in slightly, his eyes intent as he asked, “Would you like to come over to my place after dinner?”
The question hung heavy in the air, her unease sharpening. Amelia forced a smile, her mind racing for a polite refusal. “I appreciate the offer, but I really can’t sleep anywhere but my own bed,” she said lightly, hoping it sounded convincing.
For a brief moment, something dark flashed in Jonathan’s eyes—frustration, maybe even anger—but he quickly masked it with a charming smile, ordering another round of drinks with a casual wave. As Jonathan started speaking again, Amelia’s thoughts spiraled.
She considered calling a friend, asking for a ride, but then fear took over. She didn’t know who Jonathan had been talking to on the phone. Why had he been talking about her on the call? And to who? Had she may be misunderstood or something dangerous was afoot.
Her mind kept returning to the unsettling fact that Jonathan knew about her painting—a detail she was certain she hadn’t shared. The thought that he might have been stalking her, watching her without her knowledge, sent a shiver down her spine.
She couldn’t even trust the safety of her own home now; going back there felt like a potential trap. With each passing moment, Amelia cycled through escape plans, but they all seemed flawed. Running would leave her vulnerable, and confronting Jonathan felt like playing with fire.
After what felt like an eternity of frantic thoughts, an idea struck Amelia. She recalled reading about Angel shots—a discreet way to alert bartenders that someone felt unsafe. If ordered, the bartender would know to intervene or call for help without drawing attention.
Amelia considered asking for an Angel shot, but she hesitated. If she knew about it, Jonathan might, too. She couldn’t risk him catching on; she had to be subtle. Her heart raced as she mulled over how to execute the plan without arousing suspicion.
When the drinks arrived, Amelia forced herself to laugh and engage in the conversation, her mind focused on her plan. She lifted her glass, then pretended to stumble, tipping the drink all over herself. “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed, looking embarrassed and flustered.
Jonathan leaned back, a hint of annoyance flickering across his face. Amelia dabbed at her clothes, acting as if the spill was an accident. The waiter rushed over with tissues, concerned as he offered to help. Amelia saw her chance and seized it.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the waiter, her voice trembling slightly. As she took the tissues, she leaned closer and murmured, “I need an Angel shot.” The waiter’s eyes widened briefly in surprise, but he quickly composed himself, nodding subtly before walking away.
Amelia’s heart pounded as she watched the waiter disappear towards the bar. She prayed that her message had been received, that the waiter understood her silent plea for help. She couldn’t afford to look back at Jonathan, not wanting to tip him off to her growing fear.
“I’m just going to clean up,” Amelia said, forcing a casual tone as she excused herself. She headed toward the restroom, her steps quick but measured, every nerve in her body on high alert. She knew she had to make it look like everything was normal.
Inside the restroom, Amelia took a deep breath, splashing cold water on her face as she tried to calm her racing heart. She dabbed at her clothes, pretending to focus on the stain, but her mind was locked on whether her cry for help had been understood.
Amelia dried her hands and straightened her dress, taking a final deep breath before stepping out. As she made her way back to the table, she scanned the bar, looking for any sign that the waiter had acted on her request.
Her nerves were taut, and she clung to the hope that she wouldn’t have to face Jonathan alone for much longer. Returning to the table, she forced a smile, sitting down as if nothing had happened. Jonathan watched her closely, his expression inscrutable.
Amelia’s heart pounded as she returned to the table, desperately hoping her plea for help was heard. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened, and the waiter was nowhere in sight. Fear gripped her—had her cry for help been ignored?
As Amelia settled back into her seat, Jonathan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He noticed her gaze darting around the bar, and his demeanor shifted, suspicion creeping in. Sensing her unease, he leaned forward. “Let me take you home,” he insisted, his voice firm, almost demanding.
Amelia’s heart raced, her mind scrambling for a response. She knew she couldn’t leave with him but outrightly refusing him would raise alarms. She needed more time. Forcing a smile, she said, “Actually, I’d like to have one last drink.” The bar was almost empty at this point.
Jonathan’s jaw tightened but he nodded reluctantly. “Sure, we can do that,” he said, his tone strained as if he were trying to mask his frustration. Amelia could feel the tension between them growing, each moment amplifying her fear and uncertainty.
As the waiter brought the drinks menu, she glanced up, hoping to see a sign that help was coming, but there was nothing. The minutes dragged on, and with each passing second, her anxiety deepened. Had the waiter not understood her? Was she truly on her own? The bar was almost empty at this point.
Jonathan kept glancing at his watch, his patience visibly wearing thin. Amelia pretended to browse the menu, her mind too frazzled to focus on the words. The drinks arrived, and Jonathan’s impatience was palpable.
He barely touched his food, his eyes constantly flicking between Amelia and the entrance. Amelia forced herself to take small sips, even though she was quite drunk already. She was stalling, desperately clinging to the hope that someone would intervene.
Just as she felt her last shred of hope fading, the bill arrived. Jonathan handed over his card, and Amelia’s heart sank. She was running out of time, and there was still no sign of help. Panic clawed at her, her thoughts a tangled mess of dread and helplessness.
But then, as Jonathan waited for his card to be returned, the bar manager approached with a calm yet firm expression. “Sir, there seems to be an issue with your card,” he said, holding it up. “Would you mind coming to the back office to sort it out?”
Jonathan frowned, clearly irritated, but he stood up, casting a brief, lingering glance at Amelia. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice edged with annoyance. Amelia nodded, keeping her expression neutral as she watched him follow the manager towards the back of the bar.
The moment Jonathan was out of sight, the waiter from earlier appeared by her side. His demeanor was brisk but reassuring. “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice low and urgent. “We have a police car waiting at the back exit. It’s safe now.”
Relief flooded through Amelia as she stood up, her legs shaky but determined. She followed the waiter quickly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Jonathan was nowhere in sight. The adrenaline coursed through her veins as they weaved through the bar and out the back door.
Amelia sat in the back of the police car, her heart finally beginning to slow as the weight of her escape sank in. Relief flooded her senses; she was safe. The nightmare was over, and she couldn’t believe how close she’d come to danger.
At the station, Amelia gave her statement, recounting every unsettling detail, including Jonathan’s suspicious phone call. The officers listened intently, as she described his behavior and her instinctive fears. They assured her that she had done the right thing by asking for help.
When the police questioned Jonathan after taking him into custody, they uncovered a shocking truth—Jonathan was Amelia’s ex-boyfriend’s roommate. Her ex had asked Jonathan to take her out, seduce her, and capture compromising photos to post online, seeking revenge for the breakup.
Amelia was horrified, unable to comprehend how her simple quest for love had led her into such a twisted plot. She was shaken by the realization of how easily she had been manipulated, targeted by Jonathan’s charming facade, and nearly humiliated in such a cruel, calculated way.
The officers offered to take Amelia home, but she opted for a nearby hotel, still shaken but deeply grateful. Settling into the safety of her room, she took a deep breath, relieved that despite the terrifying ordeal, she had found the strength and courage to save herself.
Despite the terrifying ordeal, Amelia realized that she had reclaimed her power. For the first time in months, she felt a renewed sense of self-worth and resilience. As she settled into bed, Amelia knew that she had taken a crucial step toward healing, proving to herself that she could face whatever came next with courage.