He takes a step into my space, “No.”
My muscles begin to tremble, but it’s not cold. The adrenaline starts pumping.
“Besides, you never got me that drink,” I nod to the door with a smile and I try to brush past him, but he backs me into the wall before I can take another step.
Bracing myself against his shoulders, I try to hold him at arm’s length, but everything is happening too fast. I rock back on my heel as his chest closes the space between us, pressing my back into the cold drywall.
I shake my head as I feel the panic rising, “No,” it comes out like a croak from my dry throat, “come on, I still want my drink.”
Wells slides his hand along my neck and up the side of my face, pushing my chin up with his thumb. Even in the shadows, there’s a glimmer in his deep brown eyes.
“I know you never wanted a drink.” His lips brush over mine as he tries to kiss me, then he moves to my neck as I recoil, “It’s better if you’re not drunk, anyway.”
All the air leaves the room when he says the last part. I don’t want to know what he means.
“You need to let me go,” I say through clenched teeth, pushing against him.
“Because of your boyfriend?” he grins, looking me up and down, “He doesn’t have to know. If I’m the fake boyfriend, everything we do is fake, right?”
“Nope,” I dig my nails into his shoulders, pushing harder, “it’s not.”
Wells snatches my right hand off his shoulder so fast it startles me. He twists it behind me and holds it against the small of my back, “Come again?” he asks.
An image flashes through my mind.
I gasp for air and my arms fly to his shoulders, but he crosses his forearm over my chest and pins them back down.
My muscles tremble and it’s like I’m back in that dark room, three years ago, and it’s happening all over again. I try to lean forward and push against Wells with my whole body, but he releases my face and snatches my left hand, too, and slams my back against the wall with his entire body. I let out a gasp, feeling my heartrate skyrocket.
I need to get out of here. Now.
“Does this usually work for you?” I mutter through panicked breaths, trying in vain to maintain composure while also wriggling my hands from his grip.
“You’re the one with the fantasies, hon, I’m just going with it,” he murmurs while crushing my wrists between my back and the wall.
“Just forget it, I want to leave!” I shout angrily.
Wells leans closer until his nose almost touches mine, “Do you want your back or your face against the wall?” Then he nods behind him, “Or would you prefer the floor? Because I can tell you which one you’ll enjoy more.”
I’m staring back at him, frozen with fear, when I feel a swish of warm air as the door flies open. I give a shriek and pitch to the side as a dark figure knocks Wells off of me. Stumbling halfway to the floor, I wrench my hands away as he’s torn off of me. I only see Wells’s head and his hands as he’s grabbed by the shoulders and thrown into the closet with a crash.
The door slams behind them, leaving me plastered against the wall, shaking, and my mouth hanging open in horror. As soon as I hear muffled yells and bangs, I lunge for the door and throw it open, propelling myself back into the main room. Moments later, I’m furiously weaving through the crowd like a salmon trying to swim for its life. I catch sight of Barrett heading toward the restrooms and half run to catch up with her, bumping into more than a couple of people as I go.
I call out to her and she finally stops to wait for me before passing the bar and descending down another matte black hallway lit by vintage sconces. While she furiously types out a text, muttering something about leaving work at work, I duck into a stall and throw the lock shut, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Once inside, I sit down on the edge of the toilet and grab my face. I rock back and forth, raking my hands up my cheeks and over my scalp, trying not to hyperventilate.
I can’t believe that asshole tried to assault me. Who the hell was that who came flying out of nowhere? And what happened after they both disappeared into that closet?
I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. I just want all of this to be over. I don’t want to see him again.
I take a few more moments to collect myself and steady my trembling hands before unlocking the door.
And when I step in front of the mirror, the reflection gives me a start.
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
Hannah Bailey is standing at the sink directly to my right, leaning into the mirror plucking something from her eyelashes. She’s wearing tight black pants paired with black leather ankle boots and a backless, cream halter top. Her blonde hair is tousled in beachy waves. When she realizes it’s me at the next sink, staring at her, she straightens up and looks over her shoulder.
“Hi,” I finally break the awkward silence, “I didn’t know you were here.” Trying to sound cordial and upbeat around Hannah is proving to be more challenging by the day.
“It’s my coworker’s birthday,” she says half-heartedly and turns back to the mirror to reapply her mascara. As she screws the top back on the tube, she suddenly straightens up and looks over her shoulder again, “Is Bo here, too?”
She’s terrible at masking her hopefulness and the uptick in her tone immediately turns my anxiety to irritation.
“No,” I start washing my hands for no reason, “it’s girls’ night.”
“Oh.” Hannah pauses for a moment with a hint of skepticism.
She stares at me blankly and then looks me up and down.
“What?” I shake my hands into the sink and reach for a paper towel.
“Nothing,” Hannah’s eyes drop as she turns back to the mirror, shaking her head dismissively, “I saw you with some guys. I just figured Bo would be here, too. Is the one with the dark hair a friend of yours?”
My chest tightens and I clench my jaw. An intense anger builds, fueled by the last shreds of panic from miraculously escaping whatever the hell happened—or was going to happen—back in that hallway. I stare into the mirror at my reflection and take a deep breath, knowing exactly what Hannah’s implying.
I’ve never hit anyone before,but tonight might be the night.
I crumple up the wet paper towel and toss it in the trash can under the dispenser, “If you want to say something, just say it.”
