He nodded intently. “Of course. Yeah, no problem.” He kissed me more slowly, and I relaxed slightly, threading my arms around his neck. “We’ll go as slow as you want.”
Not ten seconds later, his hands slid up underneath my shirt and I pushed them back down mid kiss, but a moment later he tried yet again, and with his body pressed against mine, pinningme against the couch, tongue sliding aggressively down my throat. All take and no give—panic seized me.
“This is too much.” I gasped into his mouth, pushing against him. “I need to sit up.”
“I know, right.” He murmured, hands everywhere, ignoring my request.
I pushed him back, but he was much bigger than me, and he didn’t budge. Not even a little. In that moment, everything flipped in an instant. “Isaac, stop.” My voice came out so incredibly paper-thin.
“What’s the matter? You shy?” He was on the second button of my sweater already.
“Stop!” I shoved against him as hard as I could. “Stop it. I can’t do this.” I quickly shimmied out from under himwhile I still could.
He sat back on the couch, irritated. “What’s the matter? I thought we were having a good time.”
“Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” I held back the tears as my body quivered with adrenaline.
He shrugged. “I’d settle for a blowjob at least.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I cried.
“Geez.” He stood up, walking towards me as I backed away. “Sara, at least finish the movie.” He motioned to the couch. “Come on, you’re acting like I’m not a nice guy.”
“You aren’t a nice guy!” I screeched incredulously. “Niceguys don’t pullthatkind of shit.” God, I could have slapped him for that statement alone, but I buttoned my sweater back up, tears finally falling, and as I sprinted for the door, that’s when I noticeda camerain the corner of the room.
I looked back at Isaac in horror as he pulled something out of his pocket and took another step in my direction with a look in his eyes that made my blood run cold. I sprinted out the door, making a panicked mad dash for my car.
Peeling out of the parking lot with a screech, I watched Isaac’ssilhouette disappear in my rearview mirror as my stomach churned.
I drove several blocks away and finally parked somewhere random before completely breaking down. I’d been so fucking stupid to trust him—I had spent the last few weeks letting this asshole in, letting him work my emotional walls down, when he only had one fucking goal in mind. Fuck the sad girl and make a quick buck.
I’d spent what little energy I had left on him, and it was such a waste. I felt used, defeated, tricked, stupid, and most of all, I felt so fucking sad.
In that moment, I knew it was time to return the calls and texts I’d been ignoring. Paying attention to what had been right in front of me had been the weaker, easier move.
There was one person I was desperate to hear from, but he clearly didn’t feel the same, so I would let that one go.
Picking up the phone, I did what I should have done weeks ago. I turned to someone I knew I could always count on.
I called Sloane. “I need you.”
“I’m there.” She said without raising a single question. “Packing a bag right now.”
CHAPTER 22
That’s Where I Draw the Line
SARAFINA
Sloane grunted, attempting to pry the lid off my stubborn bucket of paint, muttering to herself when she broke a nail. As she cracked the paint bucket open, I realized this was the farthest I’d ever gotten. In all these weeks, I’d never even opened the damn lid.
She grunted victoriously and then we both stood over the bucket, peering into its inky darkness, as if it held some kind of magical dark power. An ominous black hole ready to consume the entirety of my art studio. I wanted to climb right in and sink to the bottom.
“You could just dump it onto the canvas.” Sloane offered indifferently, still staring into the depths of my uncompromising assignment.
“That feels like cheating.” I countered. I had to do something of meaning with it. Otherwise, what was the point?
She sighed. “You’re making things harder on yourself than you need to.”
